12.
Wanker
The co-op workforce appear a lot happier
and friendlier since the grand re-opening.
The cheery woman scanning my items asked after my health and I said it
must be nice to be back. “It’s nice to
be back inside.” she informed me, “Rather than having to stand around in the
cold staffing the ‘pop up shop’”.
As I worked through my shopping
list, I searched in vain for an everyday item that alluded me since it had been
relocated after refurbishment. I asked a
young woman on the shop floor for help. As
I spoke to her, I noticed she wore a headset and I wondered if she was
listening to music. But then I realised it
was a hi-tech communications device.
The cashier at the nearby kiosk
said “hello” to me and I mentioned the new fangled devices and posited that
they were probably an improvement on shouting at one another across the
store.
”That’s true”, she agreed, “But
you need to be careful.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, the other day, a young male colleague
didn’t realise his was still turned on and called the boss a wanker. That’s why I don’t like wearing mine.”
11. Cakes and Porkers
Since the Boxing Day flood,
during which the co-op was totally submerged, purchases had to be made from a
van parked outside the ruined store. The
grand reopening was announced via leaflet drops, strewn with coupons. As a member, I got a voucher for a free cake
and was keen to visit on the first day to claim this boon. As I left my house, I saw a neighbour and had
a bit of a chat. I mentioned free cake
and she was most put out that her husband had been out earlier and not brought
one back.
Arriving at the reborn store, I
had a bit of an irate moment as I realised the spanking new trolleys were
coin-operated and I had no change on me.
I went inside and picked up a basket even though it was not big enough
for my intended purchases. I hovered at
the entrance slightly over-awed by the buzziness and busyness of the
place. I fended off offers of free
sausage samples from the ‘Porcus’ purveyors.
An employee handing out leaflets approached
me. I asked her if I could get change
for the trolley and she kindly obliged. I
then proceeded round the aisles, sparkling with newness.
Cabinets with sliding doors now
housed most of the stock, making it difficult to spot things. And of course there had been the inevitable
change round of entire sections to confuse us more. Keeping my nerve, I managed
to get most items on my list.
At the checkout I started to
unload my shopping onto the belt, despite a dearth of ‘next customer’ bars. The young man on the till waved one of the
rare bars at me and asked: “are there any of them down there?” I made a show of looking underneath and then
informed him: “No. If there was, I’d be
using it”, much to the amusement of the old lady in front of me in the queue.
As I was being served, the
cashier chatted to his mate. Out of interest,
I asked where the home delivery machine had gone.
“It’s over there, behind the
porkers”, he informed me. Then he realised
what he had said and coloured with embarrassment.
All three of us laughed and I said “I’ll
pretend you didn’t say that. It’s the
excitement of being inside again, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said.
On the way out, a young woman
accosted me and got me to enter a prize draw for £100 and spin a wheel whereupon
I scored another free cake! I saw my
neighbour again on the way back and informed her I had got two free cakes
and told her to send her husband back
out.
A few weeks ago, I was doing my normal weekly shop in the co-op. I had my phone in one hand so I could consult my list, whilst steering the trolley carefully with my other hand. I moved slowly to avoid any mishaps.
As I was about to turn up the last aisle, a woman came rushing towards me in the opposite direction. She had no basket; instead, both her hands were full of groceries. As she rounded the corner, she came to a dead stop in front of my trolley. I smiled at her in a friendly fashion.
“Ooh! Dangerous trolley driving!” she exclaimed in a patronising tone.
I was gob-smacked that she should speak to another adult in this fashion. I told her to eff off but she didn’t hear me (probably a good thing as it might have got nasty).
When I related the incident to a friend, she said “I bet she was a school teacher.” I agreed that thought had also occurred to me. Still no excuse though.
9. The Bacup Cult
At a recent visit to the co-op,
the young cashier was serving a young woman at the till. Apparently, a mutual school friend had converted
to Islam.
“She sent my mum a photo of
herself in all her Eid gear.” The cashier
reported. “She’s living with a ‘converted family’ in
Bacup”.
The woman being served said “Oh no!
I hope she’s alright. It’s hard to get
out of that. It’s like a cult”.
Unable to keep quiet any longer,
I interjected: “Islam is a religion not a cult”.
They both looked at me doubtfully
and one of them said: “It depends. You don’t know who’s got them into it.”
“Yes, that’s right”, I said “She’ll be off to Syria
next...”
