Off my Trolley

My car is currently being worked on for its MOT test. The yearly doom, that is more 'how much it will fail on' rather than, 'will it pass'. I have therefore been without transport for over a week. The irony is, that this time last year, I had three cars. This was more through circumstance than being ostentatious. As time has gone on and finances have determined, I've sold off the other two. If I lived in the city, it may not be such an issue, where I am, is about a three mile walk to a bus stop. Inevitably, I got to the point of running out of milk and other provisions. Kindly my neighbour lent me her car today, to go to the supermarket to stock up.

Being self employed, and probably more importantly, single with no kids, I'm used to going shopping when I want. That is often following my DJ work in the early hours of a Sunday morning. More often than not, it will be an evening or a weekday. Certainly never a Saturday afternoon. Today might have been particularly bad being Halloween weekend, I do not know but it was sheer hell.

I normally quite like grocery shopping. Perhaps that's strange for a guy. I do like comparing prices and get an enormous sense of satisfaction if I have got bargains. True bargains, not the ones where shops now trick you with a big display of something pretending to be on offer, when it was actually cheaper last week. I certainly will not grab the first thing off the shelf, preferring to compare the price of another brand, or delving to the back of the shelf for a longer 'use by' date. I have no hesitation in buying a reduced item if I can incorporate it into that night's meal or freeze it. I regard my approach as more common sense than anal retentive. I do impulse buy too, justifying the fresh cookies snatched from the shelf, against the half priced fish grabbed earlier. Today, I did not enjoy my experience one bit.

First, I needed a trolley. Usually during busy times, I can skip (not literally) through the store with only a basket. Unfortunately, I needed all the big heavy stuff: Potatoes, Coke, Milk, Tinned goods. I could take a large unwieldy trolley, or a small one. Dipping into my wallet for a pound coin, the small ones are apparently more sought after than the big ones, I discovered two Two pound coins, some notes and small change to the value of just over one pound! Entering the store muttering to myself, I nearly tripped over the impromptu fireworks display stand and was confronted with a massive queue for the kiosk. Of course, how could I forget, Saturday night is Lottery night. Obviously the rest of the week, or for that matter, the ability to play easily online, escapes most. Spotting a woman at the customer services desk, then throwing a guilty glance towards the queue for all her colleagues, I approached clutching a Two pound. Armed with two One pound coins, I ventured back outside to gather a trolley. Negotiating a mother trying to locate an unwilling, and vocally so, small child into the seat of another trolley, I pushed in my coin and headed back inside.
After, this time, succeeding in colliding with the oversized cardboard display by the fireworks, I was able to start negotiating my way through the shop.

The lottery queue was now clashing with the 'pumpkin browsing' section and forming an effective barrier. Politely, although nearly knee-capping an errant child, who had obviously had far too much sugar to be going out tonight collecting even more sweets, may lie on the boundaries of politeness. Had I meant to, I would have made galvanised steel connect with hyperactive brat. That was not today's mission. I tried several approaches through the aisles: Steering straight at people was certainly the most effective but I'm far too courteous for my own good, preferring to hang back to allow oncoming traffic. Quite a few did thank me. If there is something that really gets me, it is allowing someone through and them pointing nose to sky as if it were their right. In those cases, a publicly audible "Thank you would have been nice" or "You're very WELCOME!" does the trick nicely. I tried abandoning the trolley to delve down particularly congested aisles. Feeling like a ninja, bending my hips around trolleys either side of me, stooping low to duck under a browser concentrating their arms on upper shelves.
Imagine you are driving down a road, two truck drivers have recognised one another from way back. In order to talk, they draw up alongside each other on a main arterial road to have a fifteen minute conversation. While I’ve seen bus drivers try this stunt, and then only until traffic builds up behind one before they move off. Why not, we allow everyone to do this on our roads? If I see someone in a supermarket and begin chatting, we will move off to one side, call it ‘pulling into the verge’ if you will. Why is it acceptable to have two people, full sized trolleys, spouse and children magnetically hovering right beside each one, making passing impossible? An “Excuse me please” is often met with the same derisory stare one might otherwise expect if you had just tried to push in front of them in a queue. Surely I cannot be the only one, who secretly wishes I had paramilitary weaponry while shopping. Some well aimed rocket propelled grenades would make the experience so much more enjoyable. I’m wondering if the fireworks stand can help me out on that one.

If the fellow shoppers were not bad enough, the tannoy announcements put the icing on the Halloween cake. Someone in marketing must have thought it a great idea, for the announcements to all be done in a cackling witchy voice. I’ve heard plenty staff in that store who could easlily have auditioned for the job with their normal voice. Previously wincing at the skirl of “Queueeee Busterzz ti checkouts please, Queue BusTEERS tae checkOOTS!” These announcements opened a whole new realm of ear bleeding utterances. Over acted cackling laughter following every mention of a product, repeated on every five minutes.
Finally, with a trolley full of the essentials, I made my way to the packed checkout lanes. The self service was not an option, as I had far too many booby-trapped items that would likely trigger the over sensitive mechanisms to tell me I had not bagged an item, when in fact, I had merely moved the box of eggs in the bag to save their impending doom from another item. I began loading my goods onto the conveyor, quickly realising the assistant wanted to ‘help’ by bagging my items. Help is always appreciated. Putting raw packs of chicken in with an open packed half baguette is not. As soon as all my stuff was on the belt, I hurried to re bag the mismatched provisions. “Be careful with those eggs” she politely said, whilst shoving a bag of potatoes on a collision course from scanner to bagging area. I paid with my card, as she helpfully forced stray (fragile) items into existing bags. Everything now back in the trolley, I exited the store, giving the fireworks a wide berth, while this time on a collision course with a family of five.

Out in the car park, I gave myself a shake to remember it was not my car I was looking for. Locating my neighbour’s car, I brought the trolley through a vacant car space close up and loaded up. Ready to return the trolley and get my pound back, I now noticed a car had boxed in the escape route for my trolley. With other cars badly parked over white lines, I contemplated lifting the entire trolley to get it out. I then noticed the newly parked had had seen my predicament and was reversing back out to give me space. He was a driving instructor, going by the big plastic pyramid on the car’s roof. I thanked him with a wave, put away the trolley and walked back to the car as he was exiting his. I made a point of thanking him verbally this time. I assume he was going in to do shopping too, rather than offering remedial training in trolley use, aisle positioning and general courtesy.