The Esso sign means happy motoring. Really?

Today I experienced good customer service. This in itself is something of a shock, but the fact that it came in a Post Office is almost beyond belief. Such was my surprise that I was encouraged to send a celebratory tweet. It read:

Shock horror: I received excellent service in a Post Office and didn't have to queue. Doffs hat to Tavistock Post Office.

We're all too quick to complain when things go wrong, that I felt it necessary to acknowledge something that went right. Over the years I've developed an understanding that if you want to waste an hour of your life queuing alongside the world's most miserable people, then the Post Office is the place to be. But it gets worse, once you've made it to the front of the queue you're greeted by a robotic voice instructing you to visit "checkout number five plea". I'm sure it is meant to say please, but it always seems to cut off at plea. Then, in the final chapter of terror, you're served by a monster masquerading as a human being who seemed to miss their day at charm school. The whole experience is so unpleasant that if someone gave you a choice of visting the Post Office or having your eyes gouged out with a rusty horseshoe, you'd be making a call to the farrier.

Fortunately it has been many years since I visited a Post Office, so things may have improved. But these days you can get your road tax online and your stamps from just about any shop, so the Post Office is a place I no longer need to frequent. But as I require a new passport, I decided to play it safe and use the Post Office's checking service. I was glad I did. The welcome was warm, the service was efficient and the manner was pleasant. Nothing over the top, you can always tell when someone is simply following a training video, but service you'd expect and yet is far too uncommon these days. So a big tick to the Post Office.

But the complete opposite is true of petrol stations. I've already made a point about the horrors associated with filling up with fuel, but this is nothing compared to quite horrific level of service you get when you reach the till. Over the past few weeks the service I've received has sunk to new depths. As if the small mortgage you need to fill your tank wasn't enough, the fact that your payment is handled by someone who makes drizzle seem cheery is simply the icing on the cake. The only thing they seem interested in is selling you two chocolate bars for a pound. Sorry, can't afford to eat, all my spare cash has been spent on petrol.

Recently I bought a car magazine from a petrol station. I took it to the cashier for scanning at which point he looks the cover up and down, opens the mag and starts flicking through the pages. It took all my willpower to stop me from asking him if, considering it was now secondhand, I could have it at half price. But I didn't.

At another retailer, this time on the M5, I managed to find myself standing at the wrong checkout. Based on the fact that there were three tills and the cashier was stood behind the one I was at, I thought it was a reasonable guess. But no, I was told quite sternly to "come over here". Nice. Made me chuckle when the lady behind me made the same mistake and was told to do exactly the same thing.

But perhaps the best experience was when I managed to get through the entire transaction without the cashier saying a single word. He was completely mute! There was no greeting, no order to put my card in the slot and no friendly thank you and goodbye. Instead, it was left to me to tell him the pump number and say goodbye. I didn't get a response. I blame 'Chip and Pin'. These days there's no signing receipts, so the entire procedure can be handled at a press of a button. There's not even a requirement for the cashier to stand up.

I'm not asking for cheesy, disingenuous service. This is almost as intolerable as poor service. But there is something in the middle. I was brought up to mind my Ps and Qs, but I guess this has been lost on many people today. Regardless of whether you want to be doing your job or not, you're there regardless, so make the best of it. As as student I did jobs I'd rather not be doing, but being miserable and unhelpful simply made each hour drag on that little bit longer. And nobody likes a misery. I appreciate there are exceptions, but recent evidence suggests that good service is rare.

We've come a long way since the days of 'Happy Motoring', but is a little courtesy too much to ask? OK, how about a smile then? No? Fine, I'll just 'pay at pump'.