I HATE shopping. Food shopping that is. I shop at a supermarket called ASDA (I don’t even like the word ASDA it annoys me) because it is cheap and having once watched a documentary on supermarkets theirs proved to have the highest quality food regulations. However, that aside I still hate the place for the following reasons:
It doesn’t matter what time I go and trust me I have tried every time of day, there is always something or somebody that winds me up. If I go early morning it is filled with Mothers, babies (screaming because they hate ASDA too) and toddlers that go butt sliding along the aisles in front of my already difficult to wheel trolley. The trolley that I have to pay £1.00 to unlock and which I always forget about and have to queue at the customer services desk to get change for. The poor Mothers, weary and drained from lack of sleep spend most of their time trying to placate baby in soothing tones and then screaming like a banshee at toddler for careering into the baked bean display. Whilst I feel your pain this just causes me hassle in my attempt to be in and out of the shop as quickly as possible.
If I go in the afternoon I hit the geriatric brigade whose sole purpose is to try and inconvenience as many other shoppers as possible by congregating in the aisles discussing how ill they are. Probably from malnutrition since they don’t appear to be shopping. Still they stand griping in their groups blissfully unaware that you are trying to get past. How people have got to this ripe old age without the common sense or courtesy to give thought to others is beyond me. Also it doesn’t matter how many times you say ‘excuse me’ because they cannot hear you, so on my 4th attempt I try shouting it out loud and they look at me like the spawn of the Devil.
If I go at tea time the lobby is awash with prepubescent teenagers with the manners of sewer rats. They are unable to sense (or care one iota for) your frustration as they are engrossed in their BBM bleeping blackberrys, carving ‘Kanye West’ into their arms or trying to find a likely candidate to buy them 20 marlborough lights.
Now late evening isn’t so bad except that you are left with limited choice when it comes to freshness. I stand in the salad aisle looking at a cucumber I wouldn’t even give to a rabbit and fresh rocket that looks like its already been plated and re-packed. Then you have the manic ‘cost-cutting bargain hunters’ who will happily wrestle you to the ground for todays reduced price bread and chicken fillets. Plus the shreddies that were on offer for a £1.00 earlier have now sold out to this mornings Mothers.
The other thing that annoys me about Asda is that it’s freezing. Even in the height of summer I have to don a thick cardigan to make it through the whole ordeal without frostbite. I hate that despite having gone in for a few items I get distracted by the ‘buy one get one free’ offers that make me feel like I need them when I’ve lived quite happily without them before I got here. I really didn’t think I was that susceptible to advertising…. I loathe the endless queues at the checkout where everybody is dashing fervently up and down to find the shortest line and looking like they will slit your throat if you get behind the guy with just a basket before they do. Once at the checkout I am always greeted nicely by the checkout assistant who I am always friendly and kind to because it must be a nightmare job to serve all the aforementioned customers. But, Asda has currently adopted a ration on carrier bags and will only give you one at a time. Clearly you can see by my over full trolley of goods, that you have seduced me to buy, I’m going to need more than one bag. If I have to say “Please can I have another carrier bag” more than 17 times again I am going to use the 18th one to suffocate someone.
I have tried internet shopping but that infuriates me as things are not clearly labelled as I recall them and the web page often freezes and loses everything I’ve just done. If I manage to make it to the end I find that the only delivery slot is a week on Thursday. Then I have to remain at home listening out for the ASDA van in my alloted time slot, who arrives with 12 of my items either missing or within minutes of their sell by date.
So, this gives me 2 choices: I either move back in with My Mother ( I can hear her screaming frantically from here and packing her suitcase for another continent) or I need to win the lottery and hire a housekeeper. Fingers crossed.
NB: No offense to Mothers, babies, toddlers, Grannies, teenagers, hustlers, bargain hunters and the carrier bag management team.