Tuesday, 18 February 2014
On trolley rage.... and more....
My 'Morrissons Rage' takes several forms, and is experienced on a weekly basis, so I thought I'd get it all out of my system here, now, and be done with it.
(For readers outside the UK, Morrissons is a supermarket)
Firstly, why do they keep hiding stuff??? Not being able to find the vegetarian gravy granules doesn't mean that I will go "Ooh look, they've put butterscotch sauce where the vegetarian gravy granules used to be, and it looks yummy! I'll buy some of that, too, before I spend ten minutes trying to find an assistant to tell me where they've hidden the gravy granules!" No, it means that if it happens ONCE MORE, I shall do my impression of Michael Douglas in McDonalds in 'Falling Down', when they refuse to sell him a McBreakfast Whatever, two minutes after they officially stop serving breakfast.
I can't, however, repeat my much repeated moan about 'up-selling' ("and would you like any stamps or top ups? A family sized tub of lard? A DVD that you'd pay a tenner NOT to watch, for just a fiver?"), because Mozzers doesn't seem to be too bad with this at the moment (unlike Greggs, who offered me a vast amount of doughnuts for a quid when I went in to buy 2 stotties this morning). So I shall concentrate my grumpiness on the OUTSIDE, instead.
People outside supermarkets: Generally speaking, if you see someone walking towards you, pushing something large, cumbersome and heavy, it kinda makes sense to move out of their way, instead of standing there with a gormless expression on your face and waiting for THEM to move out of YOUR way, doesn't it?
......I'm guessing they're relatives of the people who allow their kids to run amok inside the shop..... and the ones who stop for a chat mid-aisle, their trolleys forming a barrier....
Oh yes, inside the shop again - and it's about SELF-SERVICE CHECKOUTS. I don't know supermarket management hasn't cottoned on: queue of 15 people at the one till that's in operation. 5 self-service checkouts, only 3 of which are occupied. Du-uh. I know some people like them, but more don't. Unless the people around where I live are particularly lazy, of course.
And don't get me started on the taxi drivers on the way home, who don't grasp from your polite yet two syllable only answers that you don't feel like chatting. As Humphrey Bogart said to the taxi driver in 'Dark Passage': "I'm paying you for the ride. If you want a friend, get a dog" (or similar!).
Every time I come back from the weekly shop I vow to shop online from now on. Every week when my husband sees me writing my shopping list and getting my 'bags for life' out, he says "I thought you were going to do it online from now on?".
I suppose I've only myself to blame, really....