I'm always very unlucky when choosing which queue to join at Morrisons - yesterday was no exception.
I went for the 'Express - six items or less' till. I actually had 7 things but I like to live dangerously occasionally.
There was only a little old lady in front of me. She got into a conversation with the young man on the till. It turned out that her husband had died last week due to a bizarre combination of events.
Fast Cat Food
It concerned an open tin of cat food, a lion that had escaped from the zoo, the electric kettle and a freak of nature.
Her husband was in the process of feeding Smoky, when the lion, who happened to be passing, popped his head round the back door and stole the tin. Apparently, this wouldn't have been a problem except that it had left foot prints all over the freshly washed floor. [At this point the lady got rather upset and whilst she was rummaging in her bag for some tissues I rushed over to aisle 10 where I had spotted some deck chairs. Luckily I hadn't missed anything by the time I got back, so I settled myself down].
In his rush to clear up the mess before his wife got home, hubby slipped and knocked the electric kettle up into the air. It turned over several times and eventually came down spout first. The poor man had a rare condition, fontanellitis, which meant that the 'soft' spot on the top of his head that we are all born with to aid our safe delivery into this world, had never closed up. The spout of the kettle pierced this area, killing him instantly. When the wife came home, calling from the door 'Put the kettle on, darling' it was all over.
When she had finished her story and dried her tears she started to pay for her shopping. Unfortunately she couldn't remember her pin number. She did know that it was the same as the year of her birth. We asked how old she was, did some calculations, swore ourselves to secrecy and eventually it was my turn at the check out.
Only two items had bar codes that declared themselves dyslexic. The young man behind the conveyor was a trainee, of course, so had to call his supervisor over to help. There followed a lengthy explanation as to how it was possible to use the numbers under the bar code and if that didn't work the next thing to do was to tell an assistant to run over to the correct section to get an identical item and that could be used to fuel the computerised till. [While this was going on I popped over to the sandwich counter and got myself a snack as it was past my lunchtime]
I settled back in my chair as questions were asked and then very thoroughly answered .
Eventually everything was sorted out; I decided to pay with cash in case there was a problem with verification due to my impending court case.
The till should have opened and the transaction been completed, but nothing happened. It was assumed a wrong button had been pressed.
I sat down again and opened my newspaper, wishing I'd brought a thermos of Earl Grey.
The supervisor was recalled . Nothing. The manager was eventually found [ in one of the store rooms giving some top tips to a young girl on work experience ] but he had no luck either [apart from.........].
Telephone calls were made to the service engineer and an electronics company [and a locksmith, just in case].
At some point I said I had the right money and could I just pay and leave without a receipt, I really didn't mind, but the manager took a very dim view of this and said 'it wasn't professional' and 'customer satisfaction was really quite high up their agenda'.
Eventually, a spotty teenager who works in the storeroom wandered by, saw what was happening, tutted quietly and removed the bit of chewing gum jammed in the drawer.
And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
(Totally convincing..... and the sunburn? Lo TG Ed.) Explode the bomb please - thank you
