Bruce came into the kitchen, shook off his wellies and pulled his warm jumper off over his head. It had been a productive day so far; he had managed to get the grass cut this morning before the rain, and had spent the afternoon digging the foundations for the new rock garden. It was time to put his feet up with a nice cup of tea, and the daily sport. He could hear his wife upstairs with the hoover, and knew he would have a few minutes to relax before she finished.
He made his way to the lounge, switched on the telly and, placing his feet on the coffee table, breathed a deep sigh and began to unwind. It was then that the sound of the hoover stopped, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Hurriedly he took his feet off the table, hide the paper under the cushion, and picked up his copy of gardeners world.
“OK, dear?” he asked as his wife entered the room. “Just checking up on the article about rock gardens”
“Very nice dear” she replied. “Could you just pop down the shop for me while I finish the hovering? Then I will cook us a nice steak, run you a bath, and we can have a nice evening together, just the two of us” she winked.
Bruce’s heart sank; even with the “promise” that was in his wife’s voice, the thought of going shopping filled him with dread.
“There’s a list on the microwave, just a few bits” she smiled sweetly.
Fifteen minutes later, Bruce parked his car in tescburys car park, selected a trolley and headed for the entrance. There was a large sign saying “Please report to security” Bruce headed for the security window. A voice came from inside.
“Name? “ It said.
“Smith” replied Bruce.
“How do you spell that?” asked the voice.
“The usual way” said Bruce.
“and what is the usual way?” said the voice.
“S-M-I-T-H, how else would you spell smith?” Bruce replied sarcastically.
“For all I know, you might spell it X-Y-E-M-F” retorted the voice.
“Surely then it would be syemph?” replied bruce.
The voice became grumpy. “What’s yer booking time?” it asked gruffly.
“Booking time?” asked Bruce. “I don’t have one, the wife just asked me to pop down here for a few bits”
“Oh dear” said the voice. Bruce heard the sound of a telephone being picked up, and a number dialled. “hello? Booking office? …….yeah we got another one ere” said the voice. After a long pause, the phone was replaced, and the voice addressed Bruce again. “yer in luck, they gonna serve you, but next time get a booking time. Now whats yer trolley number?”
“Er… I don’t know” said Bruce sheepishly.
“It’s that large number in black on the front init, 172”said the voice.
“Oh I see” said Bruce. There was a long pause.
“well?” asked the voice. “whats yer trolley number?”
“you just told me” replied Bruce.
“yes, I know that, but I need you to tell me, whats yer trolley number?”
“172” said Bruce.
“Thank you, now have you been here before?” asked the voice.
“No” replied Bruce.
“OK, read this, and then sign the last page in triplicate” said the voice producing a thick book form under the counter. “Health & Safety procedures. Then you need to get into this bubble wrap suit, can’t have you injuring yourself then suing us can we?”
Bruce scanned the document quickly, then signed it in triplicate and returned it to the voice.
“OK” said the voice, “you need to follow the one way system down past the vegetable aisle, when you come to the bread counter, turn right, go straight along to the end, then park your trolley in bay 172, lock it, and take the key with your shopping list to the sales office. Then you need to wait in the waiting room over there” he said, pointing.
“That shed?” asked Bruce.
“You mean the rustically visual enhanced portable waiting area” said the voice.
“No, I mean the shed!” replied Bruce.
Bruce made his way to the trolley park, where he locked his trolley and made his way to the sales office. There was a queue. After ten minutes, Bruce finally made it to the front of the queue.
“vot you trolley numer?” Said a young, not unattractive blonde.
“172” replied Bruce.
“von seben tooo, ok, gife me yewer leest and go vait in vaiting room, I call yew wens ready” Bruce made his way to the shed. Inside the shed was full of people, mostly women, waiting for their shopping to be ready, all the seats were taken, plastic, uncomfortable, cold seats. The coffee machine in the corner was out of cups, the food vending machine had a couple of packets of out of date crisps, and the cold drinks machine was empty. The TV was on, Bruce hoped that the football results would be showing, but it was on sky news. He found the remote control, but it didn’t work, it was going to be a long wait.
Two hours later the tannoy sprung into life and Bruce heard his number called. He made his way to the sales office, where the blonde returned his trolley keys and shopping list.
“ve are out of fresh zhrimps, so ve substituted vis washing up liquid, is zame prize”
Bruce was too stunned to reply, he made his way to the trolley park, then on to the checkouts. Seeing one almost free, he made a beeline for it, just as he was level with the desk, a large woman pushed in front of him and pulled the gate across.
“this ones closing, what’s yer trolley number?” she asked.
“172”
“right you need to go to any odd numbered checkout with a wide aisle, or an even numbered one with cash only sign”
Bruce found a checkout; there was a lady in front who was slowly packing her bag as the operator scanned her goods through. Now here is a question for you. Why is it that women, who go shopping once, twice and sometimes daily, always seem surprised when they are asked to pay? They can never remember where they put their purse. They empty their handbags out on the counter, and still can’t find it. Then they check their pockets, twice, put their car keys down on the counter, replace the contents of their handbag, realise they still didn’t find their purse, so empty it again. When they finally do find it, they can never decide which card to pay with, handing a credit card over first, then snatching it back and handing over a debit card. Oh, and why does the operator ask them for a loyalty card? That starts the search all over again, first they hand over the one for a rival shop, then remember they have a tag on their key ring, which starts another search because they can’t remember where they put the car keys! Out comes the contents of the handbag, each pocket is searched twice, the handbag refilled, then they find them on the counter where they put them when they were looking for their purse!
Sometime later Bruce returned home, he carried the shopping into the kitchen then made his way to the lounge. The room was in darkness, all except for two candles. In the gloom he could see his wife, she was laying on the sofa, a thin, transparent nightdress was all she was wearing.
“Hello darling, I’ve been waiting for you” she said softly.
Bruce gave a huge sigh. “not tonight dear, I think I’ll just go to bed, I have a headache!”
He made his way to the lounge, switched on the telly and, placing his feet on the coffee table, breathed a deep sigh and began to unwind. It was then that the sound of the hoover stopped, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Hurriedly he took his feet off the table, hide the paper under the cushion, and picked up his copy of gardeners world.
“OK, dear?” he asked as his wife entered the room. “Just checking up on the article about rock gardens”
“Very nice dear” she replied. “Could you just pop down the shop for me while I finish the hovering? Then I will cook us a nice steak, run you a bath, and we can have a nice evening together, just the two of us” she winked.
Bruce’s heart sank; even with the “promise” that was in his wife’s voice, the thought of going shopping filled him with dread.
“There’s a list on the microwave, just a few bits” she smiled sweetly.
Fifteen minutes later, Bruce parked his car in tescburys car park, selected a trolley and headed for the entrance. There was a large sign saying “Please report to security” Bruce headed for the security window. A voice came from inside.
“Name? “ It said.
“Smith” replied Bruce.
“How do you spell that?” asked the voice.
“The usual way” said Bruce.
“and what is the usual way?” said the voice.
“S-M-I-T-H, how else would you spell smith?” Bruce replied sarcastically.
“For all I know, you might spell it X-Y-E-M-F” retorted the voice.
“Surely then it would be syemph?” replied bruce.
The voice became grumpy. “What’s yer booking time?” it asked gruffly.
“Booking time?” asked Bruce. “I don’t have one, the wife just asked me to pop down here for a few bits”
“Oh dear” said the voice. Bruce heard the sound of a telephone being picked up, and a number dialled. “hello? Booking office? …….yeah we got another one ere” said the voice. After a long pause, the phone was replaced, and the voice addressed Bruce again. “yer in luck, they gonna serve you, but next time get a booking time. Now whats yer trolley number?”
“Er… I don’t know” said Bruce sheepishly.
“It’s that large number in black on the front init, 172”said the voice.
“Oh I see” said Bruce. There was a long pause.
“well?” asked the voice. “whats yer trolley number?”
“you just told me” replied Bruce.
“yes, I know that, but I need you to tell me, whats yer trolley number?”
“172” said Bruce.
“Thank you, now have you been here before?” asked the voice.
“No” replied Bruce.
“OK, read this, and then sign the last page in triplicate” said the voice producing a thick book form under the counter. “Health & Safety procedures. Then you need to get into this bubble wrap suit, can’t have you injuring yourself then suing us can we?”
Bruce scanned the document quickly, then signed it in triplicate and returned it to the voice.
“OK” said the voice, “you need to follow the one way system down past the vegetable aisle, when you come to the bread counter, turn right, go straight along to the end, then park your trolley in bay 172, lock it, and take the key with your shopping list to the sales office. Then you need to wait in the waiting room over there” he said, pointing.
“That shed?” asked Bruce.
“You mean the rustically visual enhanced portable waiting area” said the voice.
“No, I mean the shed!” replied Bruce.
Bruce made his way to the trolley park, where he locked his trolley and made his way to the sales office. There was a queue. After ten minutes, Bruce finally made it to the front of the queue.
“vot you trolley numer?” Said a young, not unattractive blonde.
“172” replied Bruce.
“von seben tooo, ok, gife me yewer leest and go vait in vaiting room, I call yew wens ready” Bruce made his way to the shed. Inside the shed was full of people, mostly women, waiting for their shopping to be ready, all the seats were taken, plastic, uncomfortable, cold seats. The coffee machine in the corner was out of cups, the food vending machine had a couple of packets of out of date crisps, and the cold drinks machine was empty. The TV was on, Bruce hoped that the football results would be showing, but it was on sky news. He found the remote control, but it didn’t work, it was going to be a long wait.
Two hours later the tannoy sprung into life and Bruce heard his number called. He made his way to the sales office, where the blonde returned his trolley keys and shopping list.
“ve are out of fresh zhrimps, so ve substituted vis washing up liquid, is zame prize”
Bruce was too stunned to reply, he made his way to the trolley park, then on to the checkouts. Seeing one almost free, he made a beeline for it, just as he was level with the desk, a large woman pushed in front of him and pulled the gate across.
“this ones closing, what’s yer trolley number?” she asked.
“172”
“right you need to go to any odd numbered checkout with a wide aisle, or an even numbered one with cash only sign”
Bruce found a checkout; there was a lady in front who was slowly packing her bag as the operator scanned her goods through. Now here is a question for you. Why is it that women, who go shopping once, twice and sometimes daily, always seem surprised when they are asked to pay? They can never remember where they put their purse. They empty their handbags out on the counter, and still can’t find it. Then they check their pockets, twice, put their car keys down on the counter, replace the contents of their handbag, realise they still didn’t find their purse, so empty it again. When they finally do find it, they can never decide which card to pay with, handing a credit card over first, then snatching it back and handing over a debit card. Oh, and why does the operator ask them for a loyalty card? That starts the search all over again, first they hand over the one for a rival shop, then remember they have a tag on their key ring, which starts another search because they can’t remember where they put the car keys! Out comes the contents of the handbag, each pocket is searched twice, the handbag refilled, then they find them on the counter where they put them when they were looking for their purse!
Sometime later Bruce returned home, he carried the shopping into the kitchen then made his way to the lounge. The room was in darkness, all except for two candles. In the gloom he could see his wife, she was laying on the sofa, a thin, transparent nightdress was all she was wearing.
“Hello darling, I’ve been waiting for you” she said softly.
Bruce gave a huge sigh. “not tonight dear, I think I’ll just go to bed, I have a headache!”
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