Today I
found it necessary to visit my local supermarket once more. I won’t mention
their name, but it was the same one that got my goat on Saturday. It rhymes
with What-a-mess-co anyway.
It was quiet
when I popped in this morning. It’s always best to go there first thing, I
find. The staff weren’t wearing amusing
jumpers and there was no forced yuletide enthusiasm. There wasn’t even any
Christmas music. There were very few customers and I raced around the shop with
relative ease. Bliss.
My problem began
at the till.
There was no
queue, so I opted for the self-service checkout method.
As I touched
the screen to start my transaction, I could have sworn I heard the sound of sleigh bells.
Surely not? I assumed I was just a little tired and continued.
After I’d
paid, I was putting my purchases into my own bag (there’s no way I’m paying 5p
when we’ve got at least a million carrier bags at home) when something made me
quite angry.
What was it?
It was the
voice from the self-service till.
“Ho, ho, ho!
Merry Christmas!” it screamed at me.
Some people will
think that this is a nice touch, but I am most definitely not one of these
people.
My first
thought was that the supermarket is very lucky not to have a hardware
department. If it did I would have gone back in and bought an axe so I could
smash up all of their stupid tills.
Now that would be an unexpected item right in the bagging area.
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