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‘Tis the season to shout at shop assistants

The supermarkets are full from 8am, pensioners are stealing turkeys from each other’s trolleys, and people are reacting entirely rationally to the two-day closure of the shops by buying a year’s supply of absolutely everything. What joy!

There was a particularly nice example of Xmas spirit in the supermarket earlier. A woman was packing her groceries, and as she did so, the man on the checkout was asking her the usual stuff – whether she was having a big Christmas or a quiet one, that sort of thing. Which prompted the next woman in the queue (best described using the scots phrase “torn-faced boot”) to yell at the checkout man. She didn’t have time for this, apparently, and shot dirty looks at both customer and checkout man until the transaction was completed. What a lovely way to start the day.

If I were the checkout man I’d have deliberately mucked up torn-face’s payment and shouted “DECLINED!” at the top of my voice, or rubbed her card on the magnetic security thing that eats credit cards, or smacked her in the chops with a frozen turkey, or bounced a few tins of beans off her head. So it’s probably for the best that I don’t work in retail.

Anyway, I hope you’re all organised for Christmas, that you have a wonderful time, that Santa’s good to you and that you don’t have to be within 100 miles of dour-faced buggers like auld torn-face. And if you do have to spend Christmas with dour-faced buggers like auld torn-face, why not kill them?

Merry Christmas, everyone.

8 replies on “‘Tis the season to shout at shop assistants”

I have found a closing of the eyes and and ipod works wonders at this time of year, if anything I slow down. The torn faced boot as you call her will be forever unhappy, and she will never know why.

A thing to watch for which always amuses me, whatever time of the year, is the piling of everything in the shopping trolly onto the checkout into a smallest space possible. I do want to say to those ppl, ‘piling all that stuff like that will make you get out of the shop quicker’, I take the time to spread everything out only 1 item deep.

happy kwanzaa, hanukkah, yule, festival of the nu light, xmas & a merri next year

>> the piling of everything in the shopping trolly onto the checkout into a smallest space possible.

I do this, but only because it means the checkout person is slower at pricing each item, giving me time to bag everything.

I do it if I’m by meself, as I have to finish loading the conveyor belt before I can go down the other end and start packing. But it makes no sense when there are two of you.

If I were the checkout man I’d’ve asked her to repeat herself, then asked her to apologise, and then I’d’ve refused to serve her if she didn’t.

Went to Santa’s Cottage on Sunday. Fantastic. It just doesn’t get much Christmasier than that.

My local Tesco had a brilliant strategy in place the other day for defusing shoppers’ tempers: Abba. Loud. Resistance is futile, you will dance in the aisles.

Merry Christmas – can’t wait to see the wee one’s face tomorrow morning when she meets her dancing Igglepiggle.

Daisy’s getting pop-up musical Pontipines. About this time of year, I suspect the Night Garden might be the BBC’s biggest single income stream.

Huh. The only thing that might work as baby Prozac on our baby is Prozac. I know it’s a bit of a cliche for parents to say “Where do they get their energy?” but, seriously, where in the sam hell is she getting her energy?

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