14 Sep 2014

And Then A Till Tale….

Yesterday I had occasion to make a small purchase from a supermarket. As a by-the-by, what’s the ‘super’ part of supermarket all about? I’m guessing it relates to the size of the places as I’ve never encountered anyone leaving one of those places smiling broadly to one an’ all while loudly and joyously exclaiming what a super shopping experience it’d been.

Anyhoo, talking of size, and after the usual debate relating to basket or trolley for the expedition, searching through the bewildering amount of stuff on the shelves, including the twenty plus available choices of tinned pineapple chunks, I found what I was looking for and proceeded to the checkout.

I had one item valued at two pounds ninety-nine pence so should really use the do it yourself tills, right? However, these always seem to be backed-up with shoppers who can’t figure them out, have hit a wrong button, can’t work out how to get a non barcoded stick of celery to register, all waiting for the one poor store sod who’s been tasked with ‘taking care.’ So I queue at a manned till.

I shuffled along until I could place my item on the conveyor belt, ensured the ‘Next Customer’ boards were in the correct place and waited.

It’s my turn. It took a nano-second to scan and I proffered a twenty to cover payment.

The young till operative took the twenty, opened his till and gazed down in dismay. He looked up at me, looked down, which, for all the world looked to others like he was looking into his lap, looked up and with a pleading tone, asked, “You got something smaller?”
I leaned over to look into his till which, for all the world looked to others like I was looking into his lap, and said, in a conspiratorial whisper soft enough to be heard out to about twenty meters in all directions, “I’m happy to say I haven’t.  But feel obliged to add that I really believe three in the afternoon at a supermarket checkout  is  neither the  time nor the  place to be discussing
matters of such a personal and intimate nature.”

His rejoinder of, “Whu….” and a totally lost puppy look indicated that my attempt at a little light relief had just passed thirty thousand feet over his head at close to the speed of light. However, the plethora of barely muffled mirth emanating from my fellow queuers {queuees?}  indicated I had, at least momentarily, lightened up their super shopping queuing experience.

In other news today I do believe Dave needs yet another new speech writer after this that can be found here;
Mr Cameron said. “There is no question of keeping our heads down that would make us safe.”
It’s that ol’ reading and thinking thingy again innit Dave?

Quote;  Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

“Supermarket tabloids and celebrity gossip shows are not just innocently shallow entertainment, but a fundamental part of a much larger movement that involves apathy, greed and hierarchy.”


A K Haart said...

"It’s that ol’ reading and thinking thingy again innit Dave?"

It's a bit like your supermarket victim who couldn't do the listening and thinking thingy.

I've wondered about the "super" bit of supermarkets too.

Mac said...

I believe the next logical step, although not a giant leap from where we are now, is for 'our' politicians to master the art of talking without actually making a sound.