Okay here is where I admit it - I hate going to the supermarket on Saturday. In fact I can think of so many other places where I would rather be on a Saturday than a supermarket, like the Gaza Strip, the middle of the Sahara, Afghanistan, the dentist or even a Celine Dion concert.
No on second thoughts, maybe I'm exaggerating a little here with the Celine Dion concert (but still, I can't help wondering what we, the rest of the world, could have possibly done to Canadians).
Thing is like anyone else I like food, but I don't have any left in my home, and I'm down to one teabag. True I have almost a full jar of supermarket brand instant coffee granules, but it's almost a full jar of coffee because it tastes so bad. Even when I'm actually burning it or destroying it, I much rather prefer cooking food than buying it, because I don't enjoy supermarkets. But mornings are much better with caffeine than decaf. Decaffeinated mornings can be rather difficult to get through, I tend to become forgetful, and one of the last times I tried to get through without caffeine I forgot my wig at home and didn't realize until I'd reached the bus stop.
However I tend to cycle to the supermaket as it's not that far away and I prefer the exercise. My biggest objection to being in a supermarket on Saturdays are the sort of people you come across who seem to prefer shopping in a supermarket on Saturdays.
But then again you can meet them on other days too and you don't even have to reach the supermarket to encounter them. take for example one Thursday evening when I made a quick trip to the supermarket before it closed on my bike. I was only there ten minutes and wanted to head back quickly home to watch a movie.
I got back to the bike park, slung the carrier bag onto the handlebars, reattached my lights, turned them on, unlocked my lock, placed it in my handbag and proceeded to pull the bike away from the post you lock it to. I managed to move the bike no more than an inch when it stopped and refused to budge.
This threw me for about a minute and I'm standing there like a lemon trying to work it out. The lights are on the bike, the bike lock is in my handbag, but my bike is stuck. Why? Then I saw it. On the other side was another mountain bike with a D-lock through the frame, back wheel, the post and also my back wheel and frame.
I was just about to go get the security guard when a bloke in a suit appeared wearing a cycle helmet walking over to the bike. I didn't say anything but let me tell you that he got Stella's Evil Eye.
Also in the car park not far from the bike park are three ATM cash machines. Usually there's never a queue except on Saturdays. On Saturdays I invariably end up behind the person who is using the cash machine whilst engaged in conversation on a mobile phone. Once on a Saturday I've been behind a couple where the husband was on a mobile phone to the bank trying to arrange an overdraft and his wife didn't agree with the amount he was asking for. It was like watching Congress agreeing on the national debt.
One of my biggest objections to going to the supermarket on Saturdays are the couples you encounter only in supermarkets and usually on Saturdays. Here I'm not talking about married couples or even necessarily adult couples.
For example I'm thinking about the Screaming Kid and Adamant Parent. Screaming Kid wants something, and the thing that Screaming Kid wants always seems to be the one thing that the Adamant Parent stubbornly refuses to buy. Sometimes the Screaming Kid isn't a Screaming Kid but a somewhat older, bigger Whining Kid with the penetrative voice on the same pitch and scale as an Electrolux vacuum cleaner.
Then you have the Hyperactive Kid who always seems to be orbiting the Preoccupied Parent. Sometimes there's more than one Hyperactive Kid tearing up and down the aisles whilst Preoccupied Parent is busy studying labels and comparing ingredients, prices and probably additives.
I've once seen a pint-sized Hyperactive Kid collide at full speed with a Spare Husband, causing him to stagger over to the freezer counter and clutch the rim of the glass edge for support.
Spare Husbands are part of another couple and the ones who I have the most empathy for in a supermarket on a Saturday. These are men who've been dragged or coerced against their will to the supermarket because it's his car that's needed to take the shopping home (usually a trolley load or sometimes two) or his credit card is paying for the shopping. He could be bored witless or appear severely depressed but he usually looks inconsolable (or as inconsolable as I get after three consecutive Celine Dion songs).
Then you have the Tweedledee Tweedledum Couple, usually a man and a woman arguing bitterly over a petty reason - the streaky bacon he picked up is too fatty, she wants the washing powder that costs 4p more than he thinks is reasonable, they can't agree on what instant coffee to buy or how many potatoes are needed for Sunday dinner.
But it's not just couples. On Saturdays you have more chance of meeting the Supermarket Herd. This usually happens when you are second in line at the checkout and the assistant reminds you (the queue) that the checkout is closing immediately after the person in front of you. Another checkout is about to open, but you have no way of knowing which checkout it is, usually because you have a supervisor stood talking with another member of staff usually slagging off another member of staff.
But as soon as the new checkout opens like a herd of buffalo everyone behind you in the queue makes a beeline for it and you invariably end up behind not just them but those from other queues who've decided to take their chances, and even a few more arrivals if you've got a full trolley with a wonky wheel.
Is there anything worse? Yes sometimes there is, because you can often find yourself behind the man with the overloaded basket who's pushing it along the floor with his foot like an Italian soccer player in slow motion (or extremely slow motion if he's using a mobile phone).
Even when you've got to the front of that queue your chances of getting out of the supermarket quickly don't necessarily increase. The person in front of you could be paying cash and insist on paying the exact amount, which they never seem to have. They often have a gormless companion who watches them as they search through their pockets or handbag for that missing 20p coin who normally doesn't envisage being asked and the entire search process starts all over again when they're asked.
Or.. you find yourself immediately behind someone with a full trolley who has somehow managed to successfully buy all the items in the entire supermarket which don't have the right barcode or price. The items that need checking are usually from the far side of the supermarket and quite often two minutes after a member of staff has been summoned to track down the missing item and check the price the checkout assistant finds another which needs checking.
I think supermarkets should be made to employ athletes specifically for this situation and equip checkout supervisors with starting pistols. I think if we did this we would clean up all the medals from the track events at the next Olympics.
But it isn't just other customers who make supermarkets stressful on Saturdays. Supermarkets do their bit as well. Take shelf stackers for example. What is it with shelf stackers? What's the big idea of bringing those enormous cages full of stock into the aisles and then walking off? Is it part of some retail interpretation of an ancient druid ritual?
Also, why is it that when I take one item from those being put on the shelf the shelf stacker gives me a look which makes me feel as if I've just kicked a tortoise across a polished wooden floor?
Why does it always seem that it's harder to open a supermarket carrier bag on a Saturday? How many polished fingernails become destroyed in the attempts at opening them? To me the ultimate experience in feeling like an idiot is when you've got all your shopping piled up at the end of the checkout, the assistant is waiting patiently for your payment, the entire queue is staring at you and you still haven't managed to open your first carrier bag.
But there's no escape even if you avoid the checkout experience and opt for the self-service checkouts. People can get annoyed with you if you fail to spot that one has become free for you ('Alright alright, I've seen it') or someone else appears just as you get there ('Hey, there's a queue you know.')
I honestly don't know what it is about me, but why is it on a Saturday, specifically on a Saturday, that I often find the only self-service checkout with PMS?
'Please place the item in the bagging area.' ('I've done it.')
'Please place the item in the bagging area.' ('Are you blind? Why am I arguing with this machine?')
I take out the item and put it back again.
'One moment while we verify your bags.'
Then, as you're trying desperately to find a member of staff (let alone attract their attention).
'Do you wish to continue?'
Member of staff appears, logs in, takes the item out, puts it back, taps the screen and disappears. All should be well, right?
I take the next item, scan it and put it in one of the bags.
'Are you using your own bags?' ('Oh no, what now?') I wait.
Nothing. I take the item out again.
'Please place the item in the bagging area.' I put the item back.
'One moment while we verify your bags.'
I tell you, some days I just can't win.
Oh well. I've put it off for as long as I can. There's no way round it. I'm just going to have to stop here and make my way to the supermarket.
Do you feel the same? Can you relate? Do you enjoy shopping on a Saturday or do you try to avoid it too?
