Sunday, July 24, 2011

St Tesco - Patron Saint of Shoppers...

Many years ago, 'Sunday worship' meant getting all dressed up at the crack of dawn just so you could sit in a draughty old building that smelt faintly musty, listening to some old f*rt prattle on about sins and the like. Then, the new trading laws finally gave us non-believers a reason to actually look forward to Sunday! Nowadays, I can spend my 'day of rest' relaxing in a bright and airy hall filled to the brim with decidedly non-judgemental offerings. I can temporarily escape the hoovering, laundry, washing up and other hellish tasks and actually browse for once, checking out the latest clothing range and contemplating over potential holiday reading material or the recent blockbusters released on DVD; unlike the mid-week sessions when I am duty bound to a least try to focus on buying groceries as a part of my seemingly endless list of womanly chores. While those who enjoy the feeling of their backsides gradually becoming numb on a wooden bench observe religious rituals in their own way, I slowly wander past the bakery, with it's delicious fresh-bread smell wafting over me like some airborne elixir. As I worship at the shrine of The Great BOGOF, I can't help but feel fulfilled by the experience of spotting an unbelievable bargain.
It's surprising how many similarities there are between traditional churches and supermarkets... both usually have flowers in the entrance, both often involve handing over money, both welcome adults and children, and both provide a service for those in need, however, who needs a bone dry wafer and a sip of vastly diluted cheap wine when you can enjoy a cappuccino and a slice of cake at the in-store cafe? Why get your best clothes out of mothballs when you can publicly slob out in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, without anyone else batting an eyelid? Those who believe in a religious icon can argue all they like against the Sunday trading laws, but from the hours of 10am until 4pm, every Sunday, I too now have a special place to go on the Sabbath, which fulfils my material and emotional needs...

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Checkout Hoggers.

I was standing at the till this morning, wondering why the frail elderly gentleman in front of me was continuing to chat to the cashier when I could see he had his carrier bags filled with shopping so he therefore should've been on his merry way. He was holding up the queue (me!) for what seemed like an eternity, when suddenly his equally doddery wife arrived carrying three more items. I heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of finally being able to move forwards, when incredibly she shuffled off again to locate the remainder of the shopping on their list! Had I known I was going to be hanging about all that time I'd have carried my already-unloaded items over to the next conveyer belt, but without my crystal ball I had no way of knowing that these irritating OAPs were going to hog the till without a single thought for those unfortunate enough to be behind them, many of whom probably have better things to do with their day. Some people really do need a lesson in supermarket ettiquette.