I had to go to the supermarket today to get all the stuff for Sunday dinner I hadn't got yesterday because I made the mistake of popping in for a livener en-route - there really is no such thing as a quick pint.
Not used to Sunday shopping, I checked on the net to see what time the supermarket opened, noted that it said 9am, and so popped down just afterwards. I went in, grabbed a couple of baskets, zoomed round the aisles collecting what I had to and then made for the checkouts. Nine minutes flat - not bad I thought (man shopping, see) - and what's more there was no-one at any checkout. Suspiciously, no-one was manning (or womanning or yoofing) any of the checkouts either. I waited, and I waited, and I waited until I eventually spotted an assistant who was hovering up one of the aisles and frowning at me. "'Scuse me love, is anyone serving?" "No sales 'til 10am," she replied. "Yeah, right. No, seriously, is anyone going to come and serve me?" I queried, trying to press home my point. "Browsing hour from 9am," she said. Browsing! FUCKING BROWSING!!!! Who, in their right mind, wants to "browse" round a supermarket. If you're going somewhere to buy a new car I can imagine you would want to have a bit of a look around first before you handed over your hard-earned. Buying a house involves a lot of "browsing" and no doubt Al Faed shopped around (literally) before buying Harrods - but food shopping! What do these tossers envisage us doing? "'Scuse me love. This leg of lamb here. Could I try it on?" "Certainly dear. Just follow me to the freezer." Or maybe "Oi, mate! These bananas. Do you do them in a blue?" Perhaps "Do you mind if I take these Saccharino Cornycrunchflakes out into the light to see if they match my curtains?" Give me a break. Three quarters of a sodding hour I had to wait until someone was prepared to take my money off me. I'm going to write a book - '101 Things To Do While Waiting to be Served at a Supermarket Checkout'. I'd better warn in advance, it will be a bloody short book.
Browsing hour! I say let all of Grantham's shopkeepers open up early and then refuse to sell anything.
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2 comments:
This is typical of the petty smallmindedness displayed by many of today's supermarket shoppers. Not content with removing any opportunity for our staff to have a decent work-life balance simply because your raging alcohol problem prevents you being organised enough to get your shopping done on a Saturday like any normal citizen, you then see fit to add insult to injury by publicly complaining, just because your selfish consumer greed couldn't be instantly sated at a time when most decent folk are going to Church. So you had to give up a few minutes of your precious time, did you? Boo bloody hoo. It's not as if the pubs were even open. Mrs Thatcher would be gratified by your blatant materialism and obvious disregard for the menial serfs who get paid a pittance to pander to the likes of you at the checkouts.
Sounds to me like you're a sexually repressed freelance journalist with an irrational dislike of Catholicism.
Publish this on your blog if you will, Sir.
Evelyn Carnate (Ms.)
"Costcut Xpress"
West Wittering
Surrey
Dear Anon-ce,
Thank you for taking a break from the 24/7 frenzy of masturbation in your dimly lit, bedsit grief hole which constitutes your life to comment.
Your views concerned me for 2.46 pecoseconds until I decided that as you were the kind of twat who is too scared to identify themselves I should spurn you as I would spurn a rabid dog!
Good luck in prison,
Love, Reg.
P.S. See you in the Comby.
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