Somerfield woes

My first blog rant is only a small one, but I guess the whole point of rants is that are all small really, they just don’t seem it at the time!

Don’t get me wrong, I like my local Somerfield store. They generally have lots of stock, by and large the staff are very friendly, and the highlight of it all is that they are usually very quiet, so no traffic jams in the aisles, and no horrendous queues at the checkouts.

As ever though, there’s just one member of staff who spoils it all. Last night I got to the checkout with just a small basket of bits and pieces. No friendly smile, just a vague grunt. Then she began (she being the 50-something, dyed-red haired ‘lady’ behind the checkout) what can only be described as a grab-beep-throw manoevre, so quick I was left hoping that some of the stuff, particularly the bottle of port, had actually not been entered into the till at all. No hope, as said bottle came flying down the slippery polished steel slope and crashing into the wall at the end, knocking everything in my already half-filled bag flying.

With a disgruntled ‘keep up’ sort of look (she certainly put the ‘grunt’ into ‘disgruntled’!) I was asked commanded to hand over my Savacard and Switch card, and then in a flash the next person’s shopping is flying through, the results being like a multi-vehicle pile-up on the motorway. And in amongst all this my switch card and receipt had been dumped down on the aforementioned polished metal slope making it near impossible to pick up. Part of me almost wished it was on a rubber conveyor belt running at breakneck speed, and there was a bonus prize if you managed to grab it without losing your fingers before it vanished under the serrated, razor-sharp metal edge at the end.

Now then, where was I? Don’t know. But I feel better.

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