Sunday 21 October 2018

21.10.18 New Asda Dire Approach


Can anything be simpler than paying for a basket of groceries and leaving a small store?  Well, based on the Asda approach in North Shields, just about anything can be simpler - and less frustrating.




My basket was not overflowing; in fact, 10 of the 15 items were small jars of spices, so this was hardly 'shop of the century'.  I weighed up the options; six self-serve terminals, a conveyor belt option (again self-serve) and the kiosk.  In view of my dislike of scanning things myself and dealing with argumentative technology, I thought my small basket could be handled by the chap at the cigarette kiosk.

My thinking was influenced not by any wish for special treatment, but by the shopper being attended to not actually purchasing any cigarettes.  The small woman was buying dog food; the male assistant had scanned some tins, and was just scanning her sack of dry dog food.  I considered that as no one else was waiting, certainly no desperate smokers, and as I had just a few easily handled items, I could benefit from old fashioned input from a till operator.

Just as I thought I might get some attention, the obliging chaps volunteered to carry the sack of dog food to the lady's car.  I was not put out unduly because at the same time, he asked his colleague to take over and attend to my needs.  This was the only other shop worker around, and she was standing two feet away.  I fully expected her to take position behind the till and help, as the bloke disappeared on haulage duties.

"Is it just this?" asked the woman?  She looked at the basket while uttering these pointless words of enquiry.  I avoided the urge to be sarcastic, and said "yes", in the hope that efficiency could be prevalent.  Alas, I was to be disappointed.  I later wondered whether my asking for some cigarettes might have given her an incentive to scan the fucking food.  I wondered whether her own approach to customer service differed from her colleague's views, and while he worked the till for anyone, she would only do so if cigarettes were involved.




"You'll have to scan the items yourself, over there," she said, pointing to the mosh pit.  With the man gone, the woman with her dog food gone, no other customers waiting at the till, and cunting fucking tumbleweed blowing through the depressing checkout area by the kiosk, I considered whether to abandon the basket in protest.  I highlighted that i dislike scanning things myself and I always run into problems, but she was deaf to this input.  Begrudgingly, I moved over to a large conveyor belt, and plonked my basket at the head, in preparation for scanning.  Over the course of the next two minutes, two things happened.

1 - a surge of customers suddenly swamped the checkout area, such that the six small self-scan tills were all in use, with other shoppers now queuing.
2 - my machine, es expected, decided to be a complete cunt and not scan properly.

The red light shone dimly and the assistance of equal dimness shuffled the five paces to me.  She'd already vacated the kiosk, and as the single representative of Asda's customer service force, she was available to help people.  Someone was waiting behind me for the conveyor, but nothing was moving.  The Asda woman corrected the machine, but two items later, the red light came on again.
The woman then scanned all my items for me while I watched and waited.  I suspect the irony was lost on her.  If she'd served me in a similar fashion at the kiosk, earlier, then the conveyor would have been free for other shoppers.

A laughable episode that swallowed a few minutes at lunch time.  The 'circus feel' to the transaction and the environment all around was weird.  As I left, I saw no sign of the bloke who'd left with the old lady and enough food for two weeks (for a dog).  I wondered if she'd kidnapped him and he was on his way to a kennel.

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21.10.18 Bacon Leaf @McDonald's


With some mild regret and a sense of disappointment, I was drawn to the 'golden arches' yesterday, for a necessary intake of food.  McDonald's is never really a sensible option, but occasionally there is little choice.  I succumbed to the touch screen trauma and opted for a meal based on what was described as McExtreme Bacon.  The picture seemed reasonably inviting, and I'd not had one of these burgers before. 




I think there needs to be an urgent rethink regarding what constitutes 'Extreme', because what was presented turned out to be rather less impressive than anyone could have imagined.  I recall commenting to Junior that the bacon served was so fucking thin that it was in fact "bacon leaf".  Yes, the stuff was that pathetically unsubstantial.  I am submitting the above picture as evidence - what a pathetic excuse for an Extreme Bacon burger. 

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Saturday 6 October 2018

6.10.18 Depression In Redcar


Today I spent just over two hours in Redcar.  I can best sum up the verdict as follows:

Redcar if fucking depressing, and it's on its arse.

I thought no more shops could possibly close down, but I was wrong - and the decline continues.  Even BrightHouse has downsized; it has relinquished its corner plot, and taken up residence in a tiny ex-Oxfam shop and dispensed with all the floor space such that it can now display little more than a fucking sofa.  When the shop specifically targeting poor people is forced to almost disappear, it tells you something about the economy and the area.




Perhaps rather more surprising than Redcar's general air of complete gloom and shabbiness was the utter fucking disgrace regarding the supermarket in the most prominent location.  I refer to Morrisons, and the disgrace was the scale of unavailability on the shelves.  I wondered whether a nuclear warning had been issued, or if Brexit plans had kicked in early.  Unbelievably, I had to queue for a fucking trolley before I could even enter the shop.  I was one of the lucky few who secured a small trolley from the supply of six that was pushed in by a worker after I'd hung around for a couple of minutes. 

Getting into the place was a cross between competing on Total Wipeout and Takeshi's Castle.  The gaps between the obstacles placed by management in the entrance area were like clogged arteries, as shoppers loitered like fat deposits. 

Empty containers in the fruit and veg area were matched by equally empty shelves in the surrounding area.  As I moved around the store, I became increasingly frustrated by the items I was unable to buy.  The apathy surrounding everything in Redcar was certainly depressing.

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