I nipped in to Sainsbury in Witney this afternoon, to do a little food shopping:
- Pringles (prawn cocktail)
- Baking potatoes
- Tinned potatoes
- Baked beans
That was one basket – which was just as well, because that’s what I was carrying the shopping in!
Almost all of the checkout queues were long, but the line at the ‘Baskets Only’ register was only three people deep.
I took my place in the line.
The old lady who came in to the line behind me hit me with her shopping trolley.
I glared at her, checked the sign hanging above the cash register that said ‘Baskets Only’, glared at her again and took a half-pace forward.
She moved forward a half pace and hit me with her trolley again.
I said ‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re playing at, you stupid old cow? And can’t you read?’
I couldn’t move any further forward, I moved slightly sideways instead.
She pushed the trolley forward and would have hit me with it again but I put my hand on it and pushed it back at her.
She backed off.
While she was giving me the cold and frosty eyes, I pointedly looked at the ‘Baskets Only’ sign, then looked down at her chosen weapon.
It was lost on her.
After a few minutes I moved forward, put my basket on the ledge and began unpacking what was in it, moving the shopping on to the conveyor belt.
And she hit me with her trolley again.
I picked up the tin of potatoes, half-turned and hurled them straight at her head. She fell to the floor with a dull ‘thud’, sounding just like a large melon hitting the tiles.
Fortunately I was able to move forwards again, and wait for my shopping as it was scanned.
I packed the shopping and paid for it.
R – e – a – l – l – y – r – e – a – l – l – y – s – l – o – w – l – y.
She was giving me the frosty glare.
I actually laughed at her.
But that’s relatively harmless, right?