Reflections from the aisle
When I go to a supermarket, it is because I want to buy something ... usually quite a lot of things. I know I am not alone from the top-heavy trolleys behind and in front of me at the checkout, but I have become more and more convinced that we are in a minority. Just as most of those venturing into Harrods don't seem to have any intention of making a purchase, a large proportion of supermarket customers appear to be there for reasons other than shopping, and their main impact is to prevent anybody else doing it. They fall into several categories:
* Students of the fine arts. You can always spot one, standing two-thirds of the way back to the shelf opposite, head cocked upward, assessing the display for colour, perspective and composition and impervious of the melee trying to get past.
* The phoner-home. Stationary in the busiest and most congested part of the store, this person has come to Britain (and to the supermarket) in order to call their home country on their mobile, just like the legendary Irishman who came here to earn enough money for the fare home. It's worse in Hong Kong; there one shopping precinct is permanently jammed by several hundred Filipino women jabbering into their mobiles in unison.
* The person who has come to die. I'm not talking about the very aged and inform, who have as much right to shop as the rest of us and need every encouragement, particularly as most have so little to live on. I'm thinking more of the disconnected types who simply switch off and stand around, apparently oblivious to where, and maybe who, they are.
* The meeter of friends. It's marvellous to meet people you haven't spoken to for ages and understandable if you try to catch up on the spot. But in most supermarkets you can find people, or even families, who are clearly resuming a conversation they had over the garden fence earlier in the day, positioning themselves nicely to most effective blockage.
There must be other categories you can think off. And the one thing I can guarantee is that at times I have done all these things. it's just so maddening when other people do them!
A Happy Christmas to you all!
* Students of the fine arts. You can always spot one, standing two-thirds of the way back to the shelf opposite, head cocked upward, assessing the display for colour, perspective and composition and impervious of the melee trying to get past.
* The phoner-home. Stationary in the busiest and most congested part of the store, this person has come to Britain (and to the supermarket) in order to call their home country on their mobile, just like the legendary Irishman who came here to earn enough money for the fare home. It's worse in Hong Kong; there one shopping precinct is permanently jammed by several hundred Filipino women jabbering into their mobiles in unison.
* The person who has come to die. I'm not talking about the very aged and inform, who have as much right to shop as the rest of us and need every encouragement, particularly as most have so little to live on. I'm thinking more of the disconnected types who simply switch off and stand around, apparently oblivious to where, and maybe who, they are.
* The meeter of friends. It's marvellous to meet people you haven't spoken to for ages and understandable if you try to catch up on the spot. But in most supermarkets you can find people, or even families, who are clearly resuming a conversation they had over the garden fence earlier in the day, positioning themselves nicely to most effective blockage.
There must be other categories you can think off. And the one thing I can guarantee is that at times I have done all these things. it's just so maddening when other people do them!
A Happy Christmas to you all!