On Saturday evening, various circumstances collided that meant that I had to go to tesco, on my own. They were as follows:
- My wife had gone out to meet a friend for the evening
- We were basically completely out of food
In fact, for around the past 2 weeks, we had been collectively putting this trip off, scrounging in the freezer for possible meals because going to any supermarket is not fun. However, the time had come…
I don’t especially mind doing a supermarket trip on my own. Some might say that many hands make light work, and that we should work together as a team. I say that too many cooks spoil that particular broth and that it’s far easier to get through without having to discuss every decision you make, such as which brand of pasta (hint: they’re all pasta) to buy. Some idiot misogynists might say that shopping is women’s work, but as I said, that person is an idiot. Finally, some might say that I’d be better off shopping online and having tesco deliver to me. That person is notionally correct (it is a much better system). However, in order to tempt me back to their store, tesco sent me about £15 worth of money off vouchers, which for reasons undefined can only be used in store. Hilariously, when I arrived at the shop, I discovered that the vouchers were 24 hours out of date, and therefore worthless. This was the first indication that I was about to have a BAD TIME.
The car park, normally full of idiots trying to park their unnecessarily large car in a small space, was oddly quiet. I had my pick of spaces, so I selected one and proceeded to struggle to park my unnecessarily large car in it, all under the watchful gaze of an arsehole sitting in his car in the adjacent one. Leave me alone, guy! I have to admit, I had a total mare trying to organise all 4 wheels inside the lines. It is totally my fault, and yes, I suppose I do park like a woman, if that means I take my time and (eventually) get it right. I do not need some knobhead judging me while doing so. And what sort of guy drives to tesco to sit in the carpark? It was much too early for dogging (so I’ve heard), so I guess his (presumably longsuffering) wife was inside buying groceries and pushing a heavy trolley around, while this lazy bastard relaxes listening to talksport radio (100% guarantee he was listening to some phone in sport chat show) and critiquing my driving ability. Fuck that guy.
A few months ago, tesco implemented an anti-trolley theft policy, making you put a £1 coin in before the trolley is released. This was very annoying the first time I discovered it, but after doing so, I now keep a suitable coin in the ashtray for just such an eventuality. Only guess what? The coin had gone. I must confess, I was prepared to blame my wife for this (she has priors for exchanging the emergency pound for skittles), but it turns out that she was innocent this time. Instead, the thieving fucking mechanics at London & Surrey cars (based in Kingston, don’t use them ever!) had chiefed it while changing a tyre earlier in the week. If they’d wanted an extra pound, I’d have paid it without thinking, but their larcenous ways had affected me much more seriously than the financial impact. I do not carry coins where at all possible. To paraphrase the queen “they’re a total faff”, and now I am stuck at tesco with a huge list and no trolley. I had to go inside and get change from a £20 (which was all I had on me, for the record).
I was actually close to going home at this point, but instead I managed to battle through my first world problems and buy some (a lot) of food. My policy of not going to tesco until the house is completely empty meant that the trolley was completely full by the end of the circuit (going round tesco is a bit like being a contestant on funhouse, except without the fun). Amazingly, I spotted a till that didn’t have a queue, and lined up. The guy in front of me was buying a bottle of coke and something else, maybe a pie? Anyway, he was also blocking the empty conveyor belt. “Excuse me please”, I asked, only to be completely ignored. I tried again, a little louder, but this guy was either completely deaf (nope, he could hear the cashier ok) or making an effort not to acknowledge my presence. I had to wait until he was paying before I could unload my mega-trolley. Before we got that far though, every time the conveyor belt jerked forwards, his bottle of coke rolled back. He would grab it and carefully put it back in place, only for it to be jerked backwards immediately, and the whole process repeated itself. He could have used the pie as a blocker, or just turned the bottle around, but instead he kept at it. Watching this idiocy take place was a challenge given my already short fuse, but once again, I battled through.
The card machine wasn’t working (obviously) and by the time I had paid, I was actually desperate to leave and never return. First I had to negotiate a wave of slow-moving people, laboriously blocking the exit. Once I got to the car park, I broke into a little celebratory jog to the car. However, my choice of running attire (hooded top) came back to bite me. I was pushing a really heavy trolley, and not exactly sprinting, but I still got halfway across the tarmac before the security guard caught up with me, sweating profusely, and telling me I was subject to a “random” trolley check. Apparently, hoodies have been stealing trolleyloads of toilet paper and cat food (it’s a hell of a diet I’m on, hiyo!), though not before bagging the lot up first. I should have got angry, but I just wanted to go home. Just, so much.
Finally, just to add injury to insult, I threw a bag of cat food across the kitchen floor (not in disgust, it is a tried and tested time-saving technique. Mmm, alliteration). Somehow (and I still don’t really understand how at all), I ended up slapping myself in the balls. I sat down for a moment, and vowed never to go back to tesco for a really long time (cos I have at least 2 month’s worth of food now).
In the meantime, if Sainsbury or Asda wish to sponsor my blog, I’m open to suggestions.