I hate supermarkets!
Discussion
Such a stupid name, there is nothing 'Super' about a supermarket!
I try, as much as possible to leave any shopping to late at night. I rarely buy fresh stuff from supermarkets or anything I like to actually taste. So late at night suits me. But today, as I drove out of the yard, a thought crossed my mind. Yesterday I forgot to go and get dog food. Now, most shops sell tinned doggy dinner, but my upper class mutt enjoys the high life, and likes his reconstituted lamb, beef and turkey served with beans, carrots and gravy! Sadly for me, the only shop locally to sell such meal, is a well known, recently closed a railway line supermarket! So knowing that he would not be impressed with an 11'oclock dinner, and the thought of his 7 inch jaws knawing at my leg for half the evening, I reluctantly turned the car south, and headed for Tesco!
When I arrived at the gates to Hell, it struck me that there was infact space in the car park, and best of all, space within a 3 hour hike to the door. Result
As I walked through the door and up the 'Welcome' aisle, the row that gives you bargains but sells you s
t, I observed the shop to be busy, but not unbareable, up to the 'Access all areas' aisle, the one that doesn't sell anything and isn't affected by the queues at the checkout, and make a left turn through the heart of the shop.
Before I go on, I should point out that I am a Man-shopper. When I enter a shop, I walk to what I want, I pick it up and walk away. On my way to the shop, I plan my assault, the best way in, the best way through, and the best way out. You could have Kylie lying naked, spread eagle, on a TVR Griffith (
)and I wouldn't even notice.
So, I continue my quest to reach the cheese, nearly sideswiped by another male shopper, who hasn't flicked the 'dont browse' switch. Endless trollies being pushed by middle aged fat women looking the other way, and mums who are in an never ending toil to push a trolly in something that resembles the direction they want to go in, stop a child from filling the trolly with every sweet looking thing they walk past and hold a telephone conversation, probably with another mother in exactly the same situation 3 aisles up.
Arriving at the cheese unscathed, I brush myself off, and scan for my brand, slightly annoyed a having to buy a block of cheese a similar size to a small car, and pay £3 for it, I pick up the cheese and make my next suicide dash to the bread, this time though I have to go through hell itself, the back aisles past the deli counter
This is probably the most dangerous part of my mission, a near jog to exit the aisle, followed by a quick left-right-left to try and avoid but hit a display stand (why the fk do they have to put these bloody things right in the middle of the walkway, and why are the corners always at the same height as your groin, and why can I NEVER see the fg things!) the previously mentioned mother, and a MAM (Middle Aisle Moron), and then a dash through some clear space, round another MAM and into the bread aisle.
This is where is gets really frustrating, on the left you have the Middle aged fat woman, peering into the cake fridge, but for some reason, she has the trolley pulled up to her arse, so she is now 6 feet wide, then you have the old, considerate people, who leave the trolley in the middle of the aisle, blocking it completely, but they do their best, bless em. Then there is the usual rabble of people deciding which loaf to buy this week, then buying the one they got last week anyway.
With a duck, a dive, a sidestep and a well executed lunge, I have my farmhouse loaf in hand and I'm on my way to the dog food.
Strangely, this part of the mission is calm, and I'm able to grab my 3 pack of tins, with beef lamb and turkey served with carrots beans and gravy, and the box of bakers complete, before heading along the assualt course to the Express Checkouts at the end.
Emerging through the doors, with only a slight limp after the display stand incident, and the necessaries in bags, I can now leave knowing that I have conquered Tesco during the day!
But I think I will continue to buy things late at night
Or Online
>> Edited by tvradict on Thursday 22 September 20:31
I try, as much as possible to leave any shopping to late at night. I rarely buy fresh stuff from supermarkets or anything I like to actually taste. So late at night suits me. But today, as I drove out of the yard, a thought crossed my mind. Yesterday I forgot to go and get dog food. Now, most shops sell tinned doggy dinner, but my upper class mutt enjoys the high life, and likes his reconstituted lamb, beef and turkey served with beans, carrots and gravy! Sadly for me, the only shop locally to sell such meal, is a well known, recently closed a railway line supermarket! So knowing that he would not be impressed with an 11'oclock dinner, and the thought of his 7 inch jaws knawing at my leg for half the evening, I reluctantly turned the car south, and headed for Tesco!
When I arrived at the gates to Hell, it struck me that there was infact space in the car park, and best of all, space within a 3 hour hike to the door. Result
As I walked through the door and up the 'Welcome' aisle, the row that gives you bargains but sells you s
t, I observed the shop to be busy, but not unbareable, up to the 'Access all areas' aisle, the one that doesn't sell anything and isn't affected by the queues at the checkout, and make a left turn through the heart of the shop. Before I go on, I should point out that I am a Man-shopper. When I enter a shop, I walk to what I want, I pick it up and walk away. On my way to the shop, I plan my assault, the best way in, the best way through, and the best way out. You could have Kylie lying naked, spread eagle, on a TVR Griffith (
)and I wouldn't even notice. So, I continue my quest to reach the cheese, nearly sideswiped by another male shopper, who hasn't flicked the 'dont browse' switch. Endless trollies being pushed by middle aged fat women looking the other way, and mums who are in an never ending toil to push a trolly in something that resembles the direction they want to go in, stop a child from filling the trolly with every sweet looking thing they walk past and hold a telephone conversation, probably with another mother in exactly the same situation 3 aisles up.
Arriving at the cheese unscathed, I brush myself off, and scan for my brand, slightly annoyed a having to buy a block of cheese a similar size to a small car, and pay £3 for it, I pick up the cheese and make my next suicide dash to the bread, this time though I have to go through hell itself, the back aisles past the deli counter
This is probably the most dangerous part of my mission, a near jog to exit the aisle, followed by a quick left-right-left to try and avoid but hit a display stand (why the f
k do they have to put these bloody things right in the middle of the walkway, and why are the corners always at the same height as your groin, and why can I NEVER see the fg things!) the previously mentioned mother, and a MAM (Middle Aisle Moron), and then a dash through some clear space, round another MAM and into the bread aisle. This is where is gets really frustrating, on the left you have the Middle aged fat woman, peering into the cake fridge, but for some reason, she has the trolley pulled up to her arse, so she is now 6 feet wide, then you have the old, considerate people, who leave the trolley in the middle of the aisle, blocking it completely, but they do their best, bless em. Then there is the usual rabble of people deciding which loaf to buy this week, then buying the one they got last week anyway.
With a duck, a dive, a sidestep and a well executed lunge, I have my farmhouse loaf in hand and I'm on my way to the dog food.
Strangely, this part of the mission is calm, and I'm able to grab my 3 pack of tins, with beef lamb and turkey served with carrots beans and gravy, and the box of bakers complete, before heading along the assualt course to the Express Checkouts at the end.
Emerging through the doors, with only a slight limp after the display stand incident, and the necessaries in bags, I can now leave knowing that I have conquered Tesco during the day!
But I think I will continue to buy things late at night
Or Online
>> Edited by tvradict on Thursday 22 September 20:31
No prisoners, no pack drill.
When I am confronted by lane blockers who are stopped to have a natter with their trolleys inconsiderately positioned, I just shout clearly and concisely "Coming through, ready or not...THANK YOU!!!"
If I get the silly sods peering into a cabinet or something and their trolley is in the way, I just move it quickly and decisively out of the way, they dont even know it has been moved a few feet until they look up again.
If I cant find something, I ask staff immediately, and when given directions reply with "Show me, take me to it" always good for a laugh when its not there!.
It is all a battle and a challenge with the enemy numpty completely entrenched and on home ground.
I liken supermarket shopping to motorway driving, MLM's everywhere.
When I am confronted by lane blockers who are stopped to have a natter with their trolleys inconsiderately positioned, I just shout clearly and concisely "Coming through, ready or not...THANK YOU!!!"
If I get the silly sods peering into a cabinet or something and their trolley is in the way, I just move it quickly and decisively out of the way, they dont even know it has been moved a few feet until they look up again.
If I cant find something, I ask staff immediately, and when given directions reply with "Show me, take me to it" always good for a laugh when its not there!.
It is all a battle and a challenge with the enemy numpty completely entrenched and on home ground.
I liken supermarket shopping to motorway driving, MLM's everywhere.
.....well, just mine. Bodicea type scythes and and lances. wow you have a car to take you shopping home, that must be nice 
You forgot possibly the worst part of shopping though, the checkout! They are always full and you have to try and decide whether to go for a quick moving ailse with a 6km queue or the queue with only one person who is buying two of everything in the store. Then you have to patiently stand staring at the visual refuse known as gossip magazines and wonder what lifeless toad actually buys them to find out such utterly pointless and inance drivel that is made up anyway. Then your long suffering eyes roam to loads of pamphlets advising you on insurance, banking and gullability 101.
All this whilst trying to ignore the out of control 3 year old who has now wandered over and attached itself to your leg whilst you desperately try to find a way of removing said leech before the mother accuses you of being a pedophile in a loud voice so the whole store can hear. So you have to discreetly throw, sorry accidently knock over, a chocolate bar on to the ground to distract said vermin. Eventually Noah and his wife in front of you have finally finished packing their items into a million bags, two by two of course, and go to pay the bill only to be suprised that the million things they bought actually costs over 100 quid.
Noah being a relic from times past has no card and nowhere near enough cash so you must wait a further decade whilst they sort out this mess. When they finally trundle off back to the ark you finally think the ordeal is over, but no, now the cashier decides its time for a break and chats for half an hour to the cashier next door.
When the replacement serf arrives and finally acknowlegdes your prescence with a glare and scowl before firing down items faster than Minigun only to then to sit and look bored as you desperately try to pack everything into the bags. Thanks for the help.
Then you go to pay in cash, a stone age relic, which they appear never to have seen before, and then they ask if you have a nectar card! No, I am not an insect, why would I have a nectar card? Do I have any antennae? Is my butt black, yellow and stripy? I didn't think so. Oh and thanks for the change in 1p and 2p pieces, really useful that is.
God I hate shopping, guess where I have just been!
You forgot possibly the worst part of shopping though, the checkout! They are always full and you have to try and decide whether to go for a quick moving ailse with a 6km queue or the queue with only one person who is buying two of everything in the store. Then you have to patiently stand staring at the visual refuse known as gossip magazines and wonder what lifeless toad actually buys them to find out such utterly pointless and inance drivel that is made up anyway. Then your long suffering eyes roam to loads of pamphlets advising you on insurance, banking and gullability 101.
All this whilst trying to ignore the out of control 3 year old who has now wandered over and attached itself to your leg whilst you desperately try to find a way of removing said leech before the mother accuses you of being a pedophile in a loud voice so the whole store can hear. So you have to discreetly throw, sorry accidently knock over, a chocolate bar on to the ground to distract said vermin. Eventually Noah and his wife in front of you have finally finished packing their items into a million bags, two by two of course, and go to pay the bill only to be suprised that the million things they bought actually costs over 100 quid.
Noah being a relic from times past has no card and nowhere near enough cash so you must wait a further decade whilst they sort out this mess. When they finally trundle off back to the ark you finally think the ordeal is over, but no, now the cashier decides its time for a break and chats for half an hour to the cashier next door.
When the replacement serf arrives and finally acknowlegdes your prescence with a glare and scowl before firing down items faster than Minigun only to then to sit and look bored as you desperately try to pack everything into the bags. Thanks for the help.
Then you go to pay in cash, a stone age relic, which they appear never to have seen before, and then they ask if you have a nectar card! No, I am not an insect, why would I have a nectar card? Do I have any antennae? Is my butt black, yellow and stripy? I didn't think so. Oh and thanks for the change in 1p and 2p pieces, really useful that is.
God I hate shopping, guess where I have just been!
mutt k said:
Our local supermarket opens at 10.30 on Sunday for "browsing" ffs i.e you can look but you can't buy anything until 11 o'clock.
What sort of person "browses" in a supermarket
Isn't the idea that you can actually put stuff in your trolley, it's just that the tills don't open until 11am
The simple solution is to only use Supermarkets for the crap that grocers and butchers don't sell.
Seriously, the 2 butchers near my house sell meat that would grace the table of royalty, and the one down the road also sells cheese that is so delicious and succulent I'm think"£$%,,,
*runs to fridge*
Seriously, the 2 butchers near my house sell meat that would grace the table of royalty, and the one down the road also sells cheese that is so delicious and succulent I'm think"£$%,,,
*runs to fridge*
I despise supermarkets.
I hate the look of them, I hate the smell of them. I hate the constant bleeping of the check-outs, and I hate all the other c*nts and their trolleys that amble around, oblivious to the fact that there are other shoppers trying to get around them.
I hate them and I refuse to set foot in them.
If it comes down to it, I'll shop online. I'll happily put up with receiving a crate load of broccoli instead of the chicken fillets I ordered, just as long as I don't have to set foot in a real Tescos or Sainsburys or whatever.
It's all about the smaller, independant grocers.
I hate the look of them, I hate the smell of them. I hate the constant bleeping of the check-outs, and I hate all the other c*nts and their trolleys that amble around, oblivious to the fact that there are other shoppers trying to get around them.
I hate them and I refuse to set foot in them.
If it comes down to it, I'll shop online. I'll happily put up with receiving a crate load of broccoli instead of the chicken fillets I ordered, just as long as I don't have to set foot in a real Tescos or Sainsburys or whatever.
It's all about the smaller, independant grocers.
Had to visit Sainsbury’s myself today. I really needed a pee before commencing battle so popped into the bog. As I entered a gent was vacating the solitary cubical. My olfactory senses alerted me that he had successfully moved his bowl. Then to my horror he just left the toilet without washing his hands. The thought of him carrying on his merry way round the store, squeezing the crusty loafs and mauling around the organic fruit and veg was enough to turn my stomach.
>> Edited by c c on Friday 23 September 00:21
>> Edited by c c on Friday 23 September 00:21
Due to my job I am a bit of a house husband, so whilst the missus is at work I have the honour of doing the weekly pilgramise to Tesco's. Oh how I love this post - Gattling guns and the like would make the experience so much more enjoyable. Even at 0830 in the morning the place is heaving with scrotes, kids and oldies bumbling their way around the aisles. 
Must dash the shop needs doing
Must dash the shop needs doing
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