Trolley Rage

Debbie called me at work yesterday to say that she'd be late home so I didn't bother making any tea, thinking we could just pop out for a takeaway when she got home. However, we ended up going to the supermarket instead for a few supplies and some booze for the weekend. I think the idea was that we could get all the shopping out of the way and we wouldn't need to go on Friday or have to do any shopping over the weekend. Unfortunately everyone else seemed to have had the same idea.

Having fought our way round, we pulled the trolley up to one of the checkouts and started unloading, then realised the woman in front was doing shopping for 10 different people and was taking forever. We loaded the stuff back in the trolley and moved to the next checkout and started again.

It was time for the woman in front to pay and out came a wad of vouchers, there must have been one for everything she'd bought, we knew we were in for a long wait and were thinking we should have brought the deck chairs and a flask. With the vouchers out of the way, the cashier then starts off again with birthday cards and wrapping paper that were hidden from view and were obviously being paid for separately. They just kept coming, she must have had the entire stock of birthday cards on there.

Finally, the transaction was complete and we thought a round of applause was in order but we resisted in case it slowed things down again.

Back home, we had our chicken pieces and other savoury bits and pieces, washed down with a vodka and coke. I know we weren't supposed to be drinking last night, just blame the two muppets in the supermarket for that one. The chicken, by the way, was bloody awful, swimming in fat with no hint of crispiness.

This morning I'm not feeling too clever at all, I don't think we'll be going back there again in a hurry. Debbie didn't have too much chicken and feels OK, she pointed out that I also had a beer before the vodka and then had two more vodka's than she did. I still think it was the chicken!

Paul