Supermarkets. Love them or loathe them, we can’t do without them. Sadly.
I happen to loathe and despite the places. Except for Waitrose, which I’m a bit in love with. If Waitrose was a woman she’d be one of those women who flicks their hair seductively, wears expensive clothes, smells great, is clever, well read, and fucks like a rocket.
But I digress. Today I was in a supermarket.
I walked there, to the big one at the far end of town. The one that, locals believe, has single-handedly killed off all the independent shops in this town to such an extent that we no longer have a fruit and veg shop.
How can you NOT have a fruit and veg shop in a town that has a population of 15,000?
But I digress. Again. I should stop that, it’s probably annoying for you, my reader.
I found myself in this supermarket, and stood there among the fresh pizzas thinking, what the fuck am I doing here?
What did I need? Nothing.
I walked all the way there and didn’t know why. What did I need? A mop? A broom? A packet of anti-bacterial wipes? Some decent coffee? An Ipad? I could get all these along with fifty copies of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’.
A voice came over the PA system, telling me I should change my phone tariff to a pay as you go SIM. It sounded like a market trader hawking his wares. I walked around and suddenly had a thought about something I wanted to buy.
I was going to buy cheese. Posh cheese. Posh blue cheese. I could buy some handmade cheese, which sounds a bit like knitted yoghurt but that’s a bit too posh for me. Plus my brain could not process the idea of handmade cheese. I know how cheese is made but really, handmade? Surely there’s a bacterial process and some cows are involved. And neither bacteria nor cows have hands, as far as I know.
I went to get some meat. I could buy 3 packs of the world’s smallest lamb chops for a tenner. Again, it’s a bit market trader isn’t it? “C’mon darling – get ya meat ‘ere! Three packs of lamb for a tenner!” I decided I’d go for one as I don’t intend to eat lamb chops for the rest of my life. But at £4.99? I’m being penalised for buying smaller amounts. I’m being penalised, again, for being a single bloke. Pah!
Buy two, get one free. Buy one, get another half price. The supermarkets are forcing us to buy stuff in bulk so we spend more. It’s not about saving people money, it’s about increasing profits and reducing the amount of time stuff sits on a shelf not selling. In a supermarket recently I saw an offer for instant noodles. Buy 3, get 4 free! Why would I want to buy 7 packets of fucking noodles?
Supermarkets drive me insane. I go similarly mad in Ikea but at least I don’t have to go to them very often. A voice came over the PA system telling me that I should change my pounds into Euros here. Why? I’m not going on holiday.
I picked up a pizza, some chorizo, some brie, some gorgonzola. I went over to the world’s longest deli counter. Every time I go to it I’m kept waiting for a couple of minutes while the women at the other end talk, notice me, end their conversation and wander over to me in slow motion. Now, I just loiter at the other end, wait, wait until they see me and they saunter over slowly, and THEN I walk away. Ha. I’m a winner. You’ve just stopped your conversation and walked over to me and I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO BUY SOMETHING!
It’s the small victories in life which keep you going.
I went over to the checkouts. Busy. So I went to self serve. These small things came to £17.61, which was enough to put me straight into cardiac arrest. Really? For fucks sake, I even scanned them and put them in my own bag! Surely that deserves a discount?
It appears that I’m helping increase the profits of the world’s largest supermarket chain and not supporting independent shops because the presence of the world’s largest supermarket, and it’s duplicitous way of promoting it’s bargains, are killing the smaller shops off. I’m increasing their profits, along with the people who’ve bought 12 lamb chops for a tenner, the old lady who bought 36 beef burgers (a buy two get one free offer), the old man in the mobility scooter whose basket had the most random selection of items which all had a little yellow stickers and ought to be eaten by tomorrow, and the mum with two kids who’s trolley was full of boxes of baby wipes because they were on a ‘buy one box get another box half price’ offer.
But then, every little helps.
How do you find supermarket shopping? Do you enjoy it, or does it also make you ever so slightly murderous. Do you go in wanting some washing powder but come out with a copy of ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and a massive bottle of gin JUST to numb the pain of the process. Please let me know via my comments hole.
And thanks for reading.