I hate shopping at the best of times. I popped out at lunchtime and while I was at the basket only section paying for my goods an old lady, also at the basket only section but with a trolley with lots of things in it seemed to have a problem paying because her cards didn’t work. As I finished paying she pushed her trolley in front of the small queue behind me and waved a three metre long till receipt in front of the cashier who I was just about to say “Thank you” to and told her she was customer services. The cashier told her customer services was the other side of the customer services sign, which was behind the cashier. The old woman then demanded that the cashier ensure that the sign was moved as, obviously, it was easy to mistake the one basket only line for a customer services desk.
I then said, and I wish I hadn’t, “While we’re at it, we’ll get the basket only sign changed to baskets and trolleys as well.”
I should, of course, have helped her to the customer services desk and, if none of her cards worked, payed for her goods, which, incidentally, included a large number of tinned prunes and packets of a nice bit of ham.
While she was obviously an old bat trying it on and being a bit of a pain in the arse, I’ve just realised that the only person I’ve actually come close to having an argument with in a supermarket is an old lady. That, truly, makes me a sad old tosser.