Sunday, May 20, 2007

Asda Man And The Girl In Aisle 13

She follows the script.
“Any help with your packing sir?”
Its important at this point to think of some pithy rejoinder, something along the lines of….
“Yes, do you see that woman over there? Tell her to get her finger out and pass these things to me one by one.”
She has come to expect this over the years. Less experienced shoppers might mistake the glazed look for, ‘Oh god its him again’, but I know better.
For once though, I am distracted. My muse, She Of The Town House, is still away.
There are no boxes for me to recycle, I will miss out the green points. I have forgotten the sickly sweet confection that Axeman and The Boy refer to as yoghourt. The rest of this queue is going to get restless if I can’t think of something soon. I am lost in reverie.
The pregnant pause between question and answer has stretched into an embarrassed silence. I see her hand drift towards the red button.
“No, I’ll be fine thank you.”
The rest of the queue breathes a sigh of relief. The security guard relaxes and pretends he was just stretching to adjust his tie.
But I am clearly not fine. I fail to open the first bag as she flings items from the end of the belt in my direction. Witness to my pathetic struggle to separate the two layers of static plastic she takes pity on me. Pre-opened bags are passed, the ones reserved for ‘special customers.’
We grind along to the exchange of pin, plastic, and clubpoints. The earlier silence still awkward between us.
“Would you like a day out sir?”
The minx passes me some kind of note with what I can only assume is her mobile number on it. I am careful not to inspect it then and there, lest the others should report her for fraternisation.
My day brightens.
Though flattered, I decide not to call.


headless chicken said...

Hi Meredic
This blog did make me smile.
I avoid going to supermarkets at all costs.
Not only do I get very self-conscious and a bit panicky at the checkouts while the people in the queue try not to look too annoyed with my fumblings but I also get very bad trolley-rage.
It's best for all that I stay away!

PI said...

I can never quite muster the courage to use the handle of the trolley as a barre and do the odd arabesque but watch this space.

headless chicken said...

Hello PI
PLEASE do it!!!

DaveM said...

Supermakets "Want any help packing", is similar to the, "thank you enjoy your meal", comments you get in a MacDonalds. Its just not meant.

Interesting that you have moved to Blogger. You may find that your readership comments increase with Blogger as its far easy to post comments here.

Sally Lomax said...

I hate supermarkets too.

I think I want to go back fifty years - not that I was born then of course you all understand - and go into a shop and be handed things in brown paper bags..........

meredic said...

Headless Chicken
you need to channel that trolley rage. ... Feel the force...

Hello again.
Oh come on now you must. Lifes to short not to.

Indeed one of the reasons I decided to switch this was to make it easier for people to be less shy. It is possible to comment outside LJ but not simple. Nice to see you again!

She Of The Townhouse assures me that Anne Summers will supply goods in brown paper bags....

Sally Lomax said...

Does she sell eggs and flour too?

meredic said...

Sally I'm sure the must. I expect you can get a book of recipe suggestions as well... :-)