Well, I thought I might as well jump on the '50 Shades' bandwagon seeing as every other bugger has done it. And no, I haven't read the books because I have read all those blogs like 50 Shades of Suck and the excellently funny if extremely rude Bizzybiz blog whose authors go there so I don't have to.
Nope, my 50 Shades of Rage took place in Tesco (a large supermarket chain for the benefit of the non-Brit readers) yesterday. Unfortunately, that exercise in utter pointlessness known as the Olympic Cycle Race is coming round our way over the weekend so many roads will be shut. See what I said there? MANY roads will be shut. Not ALL of them, you morons.
But no - the great British public is behaving as though the Millennium Bug is about to strike once again and they are stripping all local food sources of their products as if their very existence depended on it. Consequently, what should have been a quick in-and-out to pick up a few ingredients for a BBQ turned into an hour and a half of moving round empty shelves at a snail's pace, dodging the various gits, chavs, dolts and goons who had the same idea.
So infuriated was I that I took to Twitter half way round to vent my spleen, suggesting that the job description for a post there should include the words "Needs to be an almighty prick to work here" as the staff variously got in the way, barged me out of their way and stood around discussing their holidays, viz:-
Chav1: Where you goin' fer yer 'olidays?
Chav2: Faliraki!
Chav1: Ace!
And that exchange tells you all you need to know about the staff. For the uninitiated, Faliraki is a shithole on the Greek island of Rhodes. Largely populated by the very worst kind of British Tourist, the streets run with blood and vomit once the bars and clubs reach chucking-out time and the customers reach chucking-up time.
And my tweets generated a rush of response from friends and colleagues, so obviously I am not alone!
How I experienced my 50 Shades of Rage -
Trolley Rage - if you leave yours blocking the aisle and wander off in search of more junk food, I WILL BASH IT OUT OF THE WAY AS HARD AS I CAN.
Pensioner Rage - if you have to meander round the store as if you have all the time in the universe (and I know you do, but I don't) then please tuck yourself to one side of the aisle, don't stop in the middle or I WILL BASH YOU OUT OF THE WAY AS HARD AS I CAN.
Toddler Rage - For the love of all that's holy, find someone to relieve you of your screaming brats before you come down to the supermarket. I was, well, entranced isn't quite the right word but horribly fascinated by the woman who had five children variously sitting in or hanging off the trolley, all of whom seem to have been named after footballers or footballers' offspring. Or Pop Stars or Pop Bands. Or something. So we had Rio, Destiny, Kai, Brooklyn (yes, really!) and Chelsea. And I'm not making this up, I had to follow the silly cow round for all of 5 minutes until she had screamed at all of them by name.
There were so many other instances - at one stage, I even got Baked Bean rage as Tesco is doing some stupid offer which means that if you buy your body weight in Baked Beans, you get a couple of pence off a litre of fuel, so the aisle was blocked by squawking, morbidly obese idiots grabbing multi packs of tins. The Unspeakable in pursuit of the Uneatable as Oscar Wilde once said.
Big Fat Hairy Deal. Frankly, I'd have paid extra to be allowed out via some express shopping lane - like the Olympic Lanes now populating London roads and holding up the traffic horribly.
Now there's a thought! Specially marked-out shopping lanes in supermarkets with no pensioners, toddlers or chavs allowed in them....must go and write a letter to the CEO of Tesco...
Nope, my 50 Shades of Rage took place in Tesco (a large supermarket chain for the benefit of the non-Brit readers) yesterday. Unfortunately, that exercise in utter pointlessness known as the Olympic Cycle Race is coming round our way over the weekend so many roads will be shut. See what I said there? MANY roads will be shut. Not ALL of them, you morons.
But no - the great British public is behaving as though the Millennium Bug is about to strike once again and they are stripping all local food sources of their products as if their very existence depended on it. Consequently, what should have been a quick in-and-out to pick up a few ingredients for a BBQ turned into an hour and a half of moving round empty shelves at a snail's pace, dodging the various gits, chavs, dolts and goons who had the same idea.
So infuriated was I that I took to Twitter half way round to vent my spleen, suggesting that the job description for a post there should include the words "Needs to be an almighty prick to work here" as the staff variously got in the way, barged me out of their way and stood around discussing their holidays, viz:-
Chav1: Where you goin' fer yer 'olidays?
Chav2: Faliraki!
Chav1: Ace!
And that exchange tells you all you need to know about the staff. For the uninitiated, Faliraki is a shithole on the Greek island of Rhodes. Largely populated by the very worst kind of British Tourist, the streets run with blood and vomit once the bars and clubs reach chucking-out time and the customers reach chucking-up time.
And my tweets generated a rush of response from friends and colleagues, so obviously I am not alone!
How I experienced my 50 Shades of Rage -
Trolley Rage - if you leave yours blocking the aisle and wander off in search of more junk food, I WILL BASH IT OUT OF THE WAY AS HARD AS I CAN.
Pensioner Rage - if you have to meander round the store as if you have all the time in the universe (and I know you do, but I don't) then please tuck yourself to one side of the aisle, don't stop in the middle or I WILL BASH YOU OUT OF THE WAY AS HARD AS I CAN.
Toddler Rage - For the love of all that's holy, find someone to relieve you of your screaming brats before you come down to the supermarket. I was, well, entranced isn't quite the right word but horribly fascinated by the woman who had five children variously sitting in or hanging off the trolley, all of whom seem to have been named after footballers or footballers' offspring. Or Pop Stars or Pop Bands. Or something. So we had Rio, Destiny, Kai, Brooklyn (yes, really!) and Chelsea. And I'm not making this up, I had to follow the silly cow round for all of 5 minutes until she had screamed at all of them by name.
There were so many other instances - at one stage, I even got Baked Bean rage as Tesco is doing some stupid offer which means that if you buy your body weight in Baked Beans, you get a couple of pence off a litre of fuel, so the aisle was blocked by squawking, morbidly obese idiots grabbing multi packs of tins. The Unspeakable in pursuit of the Uneatable as Oscar Wilde once said.
Big Fat Hairy Deal. Frankly, I'd have paid extra to be allowed out via some express shopping lane - like the Olympic Lanes now populating London roads and holding up the traffic horribly.
Here...sit down....have a glass of wine...let your shoulders down a little bit and breathe slowly....this too shall pass.
ReplyDeleteGood advice Libby - and the sun's over the yard arm somewhere in the world!
ReplyDeleteThis is pretty much me every morning (or let's face all day until I've had my frosty glass of Kim at 5pm) And we don't even have the Olympics here! Loving the "chav's" they must have invented that word since I left ten years ago...short for?
ReplyDeleteI gave up going to Tesco's on principle months ago. It had a lot to do with none of the special offers ever being that special... I found that if I ordered online from Sainsbury's I need never stand in a check out queue or subsiidise Tesco again.
ReplyDeleteThree months and no regrets...
What a bloody good idea Macy. Especially on high days and holidays when the great British public acts as though they are on the brink of starvation. Makes me want to run amok with a rolling pin.
DeleteHi Jody - a chav isn't short for anything that I know of. It is a totally pejorative term, used to describe a rough, common person, usually attired I a cheap track suit and covered in equally cheap bling. Wikipedia has a good explanation!
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of the new lane for shoppers in Tesco, I'll second that idea! I was once told what Chav stood for but it may be an urban myth and I'm not repeating it for fear of offending someone!
ReplyDeleteHi Jay and welcome - it's nice to know there are other cricket-mad families on the planet (with girls who couldn't be less interested!) Wikipedia tells me re Chav that "The term has its origins in the Romani word chavi, meaning "child". I've never heard of it standing for anything but do tell what you know - I'm not easily offended!
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DeleteSorry! Had to delete my spelling mistakes - it's getting late! What I mean to say was -
DeleteI think that's the correct meaning but the "stands for" was bandied about at my son's high school & does come up on google if you look hard enough - I don't think I dare write it down!!
Well, I've Googled for all I'm worth and all I can seem to find is references to council houses... I'm sure that's not it but I think it will now be lost in the mists of folklore!
DeleteThat's the one! I thought it was a bit offensive as lots of my friends live in them & are not at all violent! I'm sure the real meaning is the gypsy word and the "stands for" version is best lost in the mists of folklore!!
DeleteI should really go online for my food shopping but I fear I may miss out on the chit-chat I now like to have with the checkout assistants as I am now turning into my mother and she always made small talk too. However I do try to avoid Saturday mornings and pension day.
ReplyDeleteActually my daughter has just got herself a part time job in Waitrose and says how much she enjoys chatting to the customers because it breaks up the boredom of the day. So maybe turning into your mother isn't such a bad thing after all!
ReplyDelete