All I wanted was my newspapers and a lottery ticket, but unfortunately the purchase of these is not straightforward, especially when having to deal with the Co-op and its customers. Obviously the store was understaffed, as anyone would expect on a Saturday morning - clearly an off-peak time! Just two tills were operational; one checkout for the normal purchases, via the miniature conveyor belt, and the other at the kiosk next to the lottery machine.
The Policy of the Co-op has been flawed for as long as I can remember. Shoppers who want cigarettes are not obliged to queue at the kiosk (that is home to the cigarettes) and can instead use the general checkout. This means that when they have their turn, they can request cigarettes and the till operator has to leave the till and go to the kiosk, obtain the relevant brand/quantity and return. This whole process applies equally for spirits, which are also kept away from the thieving hands of shoppers, and stored securely on shelves behind the kiosk counter. When this little pantomime arises, it of course delays progress for all, as the Co-op worker waddles around and squeezes through the side entrance to the kiosk, and shimmies his or her way to the required products. Getting to the kiosk necessitates negotiation of the long queue of people waiting to get served by the one employee pissing about at the kiosk, using the Paypoint terminal for bill payments, mobile top-ups, issuing scratchcards, printing lottery tickets, and of course scanning a stupid number of groceries that are plonked on the counter by shoppers who have no choice if they need any of the services or products I just mentioned. So one need not queue at the cigarette kiosk if one needs cigarettes, but if you want a lottery ticket, then you need to slow everyone at the kiosk with your £45 of groceries to get one lucky dip!
In theory, then, a shopper wanting cigarettes could, upon seeing a long queue at the kiosk, buy a pack of chewing gum, take it to the checkout lane and ask for cigarettes. The checkout operator would then depart, walk, shimmy, return with fags, scan and be paid - all before the cunt at the front of the kiosk queue has even requested a lucky dip to go with the weekly food shopping. It would take no longer for the checkout operator to print a lucky dip than it would to get fags and booze, but no - that's not the policy!
It gets worse. Rather than expect the checkout operator on the single checkout lane to do anything strenuous, there's a different expectation in play now from the Co-op and its staff; I witnessed the more common approach adopted by the workers, while waiting in the queue at the kiosk (because I wanted a lottery ticket). On a Saturday, it is even more common for people's purchases to include a lottery ticket, so the queue at the kiosk is always longer. However, the Cunt-op fails every week to recognise this fact and insists on allocating a single operator to the kiosk and firing up just one of the two tills. The other worker is positioned at the end of the small conveyor belt, ready to use a terminal that is far less popular. The convention now is that the kiosk worker is diverted from her own job by the cunt in the middle of the shop when cigarettes are required. Midway through serving, the kiosk operator will stop and attend to her colleague's needs, checking what exactly is needed, getting it for her friend and then handing it over when she arrives to reach over the waiting shoppers and collect the wares. So, the fucking queue at the cigarette kiosk is held up while the person stops serving and gets stuff from the shelves for a cunt in the middle of the shop who is serving another cunt who can't be bothered to queue at the kiosk! Fucking nuts! They there was an issue with the computerised till being used by the cigarette gatherer, which meant extra diversion and delay for the kiosk worker - and customers.
As I watched this process unfold before my eyes this morning, I decided that the Co-op hasn't got a clue and never would have. All of this would not have been a problem if the ratio of staff to customers were greater, and if extra input was via the second of the two tills in the kiosk. Two staff in the kiosk serving and attending to the shoppers' needs in respect of Paypoint transactions, lottery, scratchcards and general purchases would have meant a 'fighting chance' of blood pressure in the bodies of people in the store staying somewhere below the level of "Cunting Catastrophic".
In front of me was a man who wanted a newspaper and a lottery ticket - the same as me. In front of him, the bloke was in need of tobacco and a couple of other items, which in due course he paid for (£13) with a card. In front of him a young lad who wanted a £1 ticket. However, we were all rather held up by an old dear who was a fucking nightmare. She was at the head of the queue when I joined it, and stayed there for ages, chatting while a ludicrous amount of shit was scanned and plonked on the counter by "Olive" from "On The Buses". Each item was then transferred to a clutch of carrier bags, while the loud conversation was shared by us all. You'll not be interested in her early rise (as she had to be somewhere for 6am) nor will the roadworks and issues with road closures be of the slightest interest. The rest of the bollocks she imparted will not be mentioned in this account, as I have lost the will. As she finalised her transaction and turned to leave, I was pleased to be fourth in the queue, and to see that the two chaps in front of me had almost nothing to be scanned in comparison to Ms Chatterbox. The young chap acquired his ticket very quickly, but it was perhaps this purchase that led to further input from the talker. She spoke once more, while stopping and turning around. "Oh dear, I've forgotten my lottery!" The stupid cow had joined the queue with loads of shopping and had managed to forget the one thing that had necessitated her joining the kiosk queue in the first place. However, this was not what then caused concern for me. I will explain.
As Ms Chatterbox stood near the head of the queue and peered towards me, she said: "Now, where will I be in the queue?" This was clearly confirmation to us all that she'd not be rejoining the queue, but would be loitering and then stepping forward when her turn came around. I did not take this as a hint in the slightest. However, the bloke two in front of me decided to respond, and he asked her if she wanted to go next. NO!
Alas, she then got a second chance and started talking to Olive, explaining fuck-knows-what and thanking the bloke who let her back in. BUT - it was NOT his place to let her go ahead of him, because he was also speaking for ME and the chap in front of me! It was not his right to demote both of us as well as himself in a revised pecking order, to facilitate the stupidity of a pain-in-the-arse. The correct action would have been for him to ask the man behind him (and in front of me) as well as me, if either of us minded if Chatterbox was allowed to re-enter the fray and fuck about a bit more. My human rights were abused by this bloke, and I thus resented him paying £13 with a credit card. I may have to consider an approach to Strasbourg.
As I left the Cunt-op, I saw Ms Chatterbox holding audience in the bus shelter. Three people were on the receiving end of her further output, and with no bus in sight, they were fucked. Meanwhile, I moved on at a brisk 8mph.
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