Supermarket Trauma
Pic by Dominic.
What are the rules for hating old people? Is it allowed? I hope so.
Okay, so hate is strong word. But Sainsbury’s quite clearly mark the basket-only checkouts with big pictures of baskets. So when the old couple with the trolley sneaked in front of me and my four items, my gasket prepared itself for a big blow.
But what could I say to these rule breakers? He may have fought in the war; she may have Dug for Victory. I’d no chance of gracing the higher ground (and checkout position) I craved.
I was about to say something when I noticed their ally. Her Daily Mail gave her away. She glanced at me from the adjacent queue, ready to phone the Evening Star – and maybe even her rag of choice – should I even question the heroes that were slowly unloading their trolley, checking each item as if they didn’t remember putting it in there. They probably didn’t.
They weren’t cheery old folk. Not like my nan. She’s always a jolly old soul. They looked like miseries, but I’m prepared to accept that everyone in Sainsbury’s looks pretty much the same miserable way.
And since these geriatric nutters were happy to break the checkout rules, where would they stop? Rules meant nothing to them. They could be armed. I could be gunned down by these lawless fogeys. In self defence, whispered their ally, in my head.
I drifted off in a wave of absurd thought. Moments later, I was jolted back to reality by the familiar call of the Sainsbury’s droid.
“AffyougottaNectarCard?”