The new supermarket
It's a phenomenon that many people will be familiar with - the metamorphosis of their local Safeway into their local Morrisons. After four days I plucked up the courage to go inside. It wasn't a promising start, after spending thousands of pounds on a face lift they still hadn't thought to put in bike racks, so I joined all the other cyclists in chaining it to anything vaguely stationary.
I think they have squeezed in an extra aisle. There barely seems enough room for two trolleys to pass each other now. Along the top end, the main way across the aisles by the meat and cheese counters, they have stuck square bins of food (with little tent-like roofs, presumably to keep the rain off should the main ceiling be torn off) which forced everyone to crash into each other.
This twee shop keeper look also extends to the fruit and veg section and to the maroon aprons that staff are forced to wear. I hate maroon uniforms. I blame this on my old school.
I've forgotten what music was playing but I'm sure the new store plays it louder. I spend a lot of time in supermarkets being unable to decide what I want because of the sheer amount of products (I think there is a phrase for this - consumer mental saturation - or along those lines) but because of the new store staff are too quick to try and help. I was standing still, trying not to scream, and this guy whizzes around a corner saying, "You look lost mate? What are you looking for?"
"Oh, erm, I'm always lost in these place. I don't know, I'm fine, thanks."
Friendly enough, but from that point on I kept in a state of perpetual motion, just in case I might be forced to explain myself again. I walked continuously around the store grabbing stuff of the shelf when I thought I might prove useful.
At the counter something which sounded like a fire alarm had gone off. I say sounded like because no-one was making any effort to leave the building, despite the loud irritating noise. Another staff member carrying a small bag walked up to me and asked if I was the guy who wanted the Playstation II. I said I would if one was going and she walked to the next checkout.
I think they have squeezed in an extra aisle. There barely seems enough room for two trolleys to pass each other now. Along the top end, the main way across the aisles by the meat and cheese counters, they have stuck square bins of food (with little tent-like roofs, presumably to keep the rain off should the main ceiling be torn off) which forced everyone to crash into each other.
This twee shop keeper look also extends to the fruit and veg section and to the maroon aprons that staff are forced to wear. I hate maroon uniforms. I blame this on my old school.
I've forgotten what music was playing but I'm sure the new store plays it louder. I spend a lot of time in supermarkets being unable to decide what I want because of the sheer amount of products (I think there is a phrase for this - consumer mental saturation - or along those lines) but because of the new store staff are too quick to try and help. I was standing still, trying not to scream, and this guy whizzes around a corner saying, "You look lost mate? What are you looking for?"
"Oh, erm, I'm always lost in these place. I don't know, I'm fine, thanks."
Friendly enough, but from that point on I kept in a state of perpetual motion, just in case I might be forced to explain myself again. I walked continuously around the store grabbing stuff of the shelf when I thought I might prove useful.
At the counter something which sounded like a fire alarm had gone off. I say sounded like because no-one was making any effort to leave the building, despite the loud irritating noise. Another staff member carrying a small bag walked up to me and asked if I was the guy who wanted the Playstation II. I said I would if one was going and she walked to the next checkout.
posted by Dandy at 1:01 AM
2 Comments:
welcome to the club, dandy.
is it just maroon uniforms you hate, or maroon in general? feel free to adjust the colour on the template if it grates.
supermarkets are an enourmous source of entertainment and paranoia for me. there are so many items which simply must be jokes, but the fact they've hit the shelves means no-one along the production line thought it was that funny. and the music.. instore digital radio, playing a collection of wearily reassuring old time numbers, synchronised in every store up the country with the same voice informing one of new offers. the voice of fate.
i find it hard enough to decide between two options, but then you can just flip a coin. when there's five varieties i have to get my d10 out.. but that's the great thing about being vegetarian (and a labelaholic), i find; i can just ignore whole isles of the supermarket. which can of beans shall i buy? the one without modified maize starch! (oh, they've all got modified maize starch. so much for choice) which mayonaise? the organic one, made with free range organic eggs.
actually on the point of choice, i was speaking to a colleague about coca-cola, and said about all the bad things that they do. "i just like it," he said. then he said about how globalisation brings more choice, but he just preffered coke to pepsi. is he an idiot, or is it just the way his knuckles drag? that said, he's not that stupid. it's simply irksome when people come out of university, an adult in name, but still can't make the jump between realising that one is wrong and not bothering to do anything about it.
Any trip to Morrisons should be accompianied by the Largo from Dvorak's New World Symphany, at great volume.
Post a Comment
<< Home