We joined the queue in Sainsbury’s.
Moments later, the store manager put up the following sign:
Even though we had yet to put any items on the conveyor belt, the manager informed us that we were the last in the queue.
We of course smiled our gratitude and indeed felt rather priviledged to be in this now exclusive queue. Although our smug smiles were soon on the other side of our faces when we realised that the onus was now on us to inform fellow shoppers that the queue we were standing in was only for us.
It’s the fear of this kind of social interaction that keeps us English awake at night.
It was easy with the young lady, she registered the sign as we apologised that the checkout was now closing, and quickly moved on. Although it did cause quite a lot of confusion with the elderly gentleman, and he walked away looking beleaguered. And yet this was relatively easy in comparison with the rather stressed looking lady who was struggling with a shopping basket and a wheelchair bound granny.
It was only once we had all items on the conveyor belt that the sign was clear for all to see and we felt as though we could relax a bit and enjoy the queue.
While we waited there were a number of reading materials for our perusal.
Or Closer magazine.
To be honest, I didn’t think they should be worrying about her weight but instead why her breasts had drooped down to her hips. Shocking in one so young.
At this point Sarah was rather amused by the article on Jordan. My attention however had shifted to the lady in the blue coat, who had started to hum the theme tune to Superman as she bagged the last of her shopping.
October 25, 2006 at 4:59 pm
Mr Deeds,
I too was in a similar position in Edinburgh.
We sat in a pub waiting for a our food when a lady came to clear a table nearby. Suddenly, a glass smashed for no reason. The lady informed us that:
“oh, sorry, sometimes they just explode”
Explode??? What? I moved my glass to the centre of the table.
The lady asked us if we could tell people not to sit at the table until she cleared the glass bits up.
I was worried, I didn’t want to have to tell people not to sit down because glasses sometimes explode.
Luckily the lady returned quickly, the food then also came (which was wrong, how can they get it wrong – I told them to swap it, and they did)
I don’t think the customer can be expected to do the employee’s work, unless we receive a discount. Don’t do their bidding Will, just let people queue.
Gary Wood
October 25, 2006 at 5:33 pm
You are right Mr Woods.
I really did not enjoy turning people away, and indeed I felt bad each time I had to do it. But why should I feel the responsibility and the guilt for this tricky situation?
Some may blame my Catholic upbringing, but I also feel that it is part of our National character; we can’t help but think that everything is our fault, which is why we always say sorry when we bump into another person or ask them to move out of the way (Is it the same in Edinburger?).
Unfortunately, the only alternative to this is the confident American approach of smiling and saying Excuse-me.
Which in this country will never do.
Is this exploding glasses malarkey a Scottish thing? I truly hope so as we simply do not have the room in the Southeast for glasses that explode. I’ve noticed recently that there’s so many people down here that I’m scared to pick up my own soap from my own shower floor.
William Deed
October 25, 2006 at 6:08 pm
It is the second glass I have seen explode, both in edinburger. it has to a Scottish thing, perhap the altitude?
I noticed that the English say ’sorry’ when they mean ‘excuse me’ in Edinburgh. I am yet to hear the Scottish say either.
Edinburgh has too many English people.
Signing Off,
Gary Wood
October 26, 2006 at 4:03 pm
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