If anyone came across a furious, mad-eyed woman screaming ‘You cannot be real’ at a security guard in the car park of a West London Sainsbury’s last week, I’m sorry.
That was me. And I apologise: to him and any poor person who might have witnessed my John McEnroe impression.
It never feels good to lose it in public, and I hate to shout at people who think they are doing their job.
But I had good reason to be stressed and furious. Because, after losing my handbag in the store, I’d just discovered staff had allowed a complete stranger to walk off with it — complete with my wallet, bank cards and address — and, worse, without taking her details.
The reason they’d given for this common-sense bypass? ‘Data protection’. None of it made sense.
I had good reason to be stressed and furious. Because, after losing my handbag in the store, I’d just discovered staff had allowed a complete stranger to walk off with it — complete with my wallet, bank cards and address — and, worse, without taking her details writes ALEXANDRA SHULMAN
But let’s spool back a little.
I confess I hadn’t been a regular visitor to my local Sainsbury’s, in Ladbroke Grove, for some time.
When I had children living at home, we shopped at the superstore weekly, but these days we need much less, so most of our groceries are purchased via local stores, the farmers’ market and the occasional delivery.
However, I remembered that the store had one of those machines that take your loose coins to exchange for crisp paper notes. And since I was fed up with every small dish in the house being filled with piles of 20p and 50p pieces, I headed off with several Ziploc bags full.
To begin with all augured well. I parked the car, grabbed my white recycled nylon tote bag stuffed with the Ziplocs and, as it turned out, thankfully, put my phone and car keys in my pocket.
The store was surprisingly empty for a weekday morning. So instead of getting my cash — the princely sum of £43 — and heading elsewhere with my shopping list, I grabbed a basket and decided to do my food shop.
I also thought I would treat myself with my ‘free money’ to some nice wine for the Coronation.
Up and down the aisles I went: for fruit, veg, cheese, cream, porridge oats and wine — inevitably buying more than I’d intended.
Once at the self-service till, I reached for my bag to find a card to pay. Not so fast.
Once at the self-service till, I reached for my bag to find a card to pay. Not so fast.
My bag. Where was it? Because it was no longer with me.
When had I last had it? The coin exchange machine gives you a voucher to exchange for cash, so it must have been with me when I went to customer services to redeem it, as I recalled putting the notes in my wallet.
Had I put it down in the wine section when I looked at that bottle of Gavi di Gavi? I considered dashing around the store, but it’s enormous and, frankly, I thought it was unlikely my bag would still be lying there.
Becoming slightly hysterical, I abandoned my bags of food at the checkout and ran back to the customer services desk.
Ahead of me was a queue of people buying Lottery tickets and only one member of staff processing matters.
As far as I was concerned every second counted, so I’m afraid I barged in from the side with a panicked ‘Excuse me — has anyone handed in a handbag?’
‘What’s your name?’ asked the assistant. I told her and she stepped to the side, where I imagined she would produce the bag.
Clearly, if Rose had wanted to hightail it with my cards she could have just walked out and not bothered to bring the bag to the store’s attention, which makes it extraordinary the Sainsbury’s team made no effort to alert me writes ALEXANDRA SHULMAN
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A woman found it, but she wouldn’t hand it over. She said she would drop it round at your house after she’d had her swim.’ I gasped — surely they hadn’t let a complete stranger walk off with so many personal possessions? ‘And you just let her keep it, with my driving licence, cash and credit cards?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Well, we couldn’t grab it from her, could we?’ she replied.
Surely you got her details, I asked. But no, they hadn’t. No phone number, name or address. Just a promise that some unknown woman would drop off my bag at the address on my driving licence. It was unfathomable.
By this time, another colleague was on the scene, assuring me it wasn’t in their power to insist the bag be handed over nor, he said, that she give her phone number. He mumbled something about security and data protection. What about my data protection I started to yell. Even now hundreds of pounds could be being spent on my bank cards.
He was a kind, apologetic young man, and walked me towards my car after calling on a security officer, who confirmed that they couldn’t actually take my bag from this woman.
It was then that I began screaming at both men
The male member of staff said he thought she was called Rosemary. She’d said she worked at a mini-cab firm. Which one? In answer to that question there was only a vague wave in the direction of the main road. Primarily, I was furious at myself for being stupid enough to put the wretched bag down and forget to pick it up.
But I was also incensed by Sainsbury’s policy, which apparently deemed it more acceptable to let a stranger walk off with a customer’s handbag than to demand a contact for them, in the name of data protection.
It was Alice-Through-The-Looking-Glass land — totally warped and irrational.
Consoled by the fact I still had my car keys and phone, I sat in the car and started Googling local mini-cab firms.
The nearest was within yards of the store so I phoned them. Did they have a Rosemary? No, but there was a Rose. And Rose, bless her, did have my bag.
Within minutes we were reunited. Never had I been so pleased to see a piece of white nylon.
Rose emerged as a delightful Irish woman telling me she always swam after work and was going to drop the bag by my house, which was, in fact, some distance away.
Sainsbury’s said they were very sorry about Alexandra’s experience, adding: ‘Our lost property policy does not include collecting the personal details of individuals who have found items, because we don’t have a need for them.
She seemed entirely genuine and honest. But I was perplexed. Why, I asked, didn’t she leave the bag with the store? It would have been much simpler — for both of us.
Her answer was fascinating.
Having found the bag near the butter and cheese — ah, not by Gavi di Gavi after all — she had gone straight to customer services to ask them to relay a request for me over the store Tannoy.
But they refused to do this. Why they wouldn’t do something which so obviously would have been the first step remains shrouded in mystery, though she recalls them saying something about security.
After this, and their general attitude of deep disinterest, she didn’t feel confident in handing over my bag. Fair enough. Sort of. But why not give them her phone number so I could get in touch?
She had offered it, she said, but they wouldn’t take it, invoking our old friend . . . data protection.
Clearly, if Rose had wanted to hightail it with my cards she could have just walked out and not bothered to bring the bag to the store’s attention, which makes it extraordinary the Sainsbury’s team made no effort to alert me.
Of course I might have left the store already, but it was worth a try. And far more baffling and extraordinary was the staff’s view that it was more beneficial to let a stranger walk away with a bag full of my personal details than to insist on getting some contact information for them.
Data protection. Actually, I think not. If Rose was happy to give her phone number, then what was the problem?
I suspect it was simply easier for them to avoid getting involved.
This kind of experience is a sad reflection on how customer service has become hemmed in by mindless protocols.
It says a lot about our contemporary world where such skewed priorities trump thoughtful, helpful, sensible and important human interaction.
I never did return to the store for my shopping.
Sainsbury’s said they were very sorry about Alexandra’s experience, adding: ‘Our lost property policy does not include collecting the personal details of individuals who have found items, because we don’t have a need for them.
‘According to GDPR legislation, any collection of personal data needs to be proportionate and not excessive.’
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