My local store has adopted strange tactics in the fight against something or other. Maybe it's shoplifting, maybe it's just for fun (?) but whatever the reasons, the change at the store entrance is pathetic and defies all logic. Akin to some sort of measure at 'border control', the two glass entrance doors (which were never marked as one for IN and one for OUT, but unofficially MAYHEM at both) were not in action on Saturday. After negotiating the slalom style outer entry (left or right through a glass conservatory getting tangled up with every other fucker coming, going or having a cigarette) I was confronted by a pallet of coal.
Now, I am no retail expert, but a shrink-wrapped pallet of coal blocking a door on a Saturday is unlikely to be of benefit to a retailer, first because it stops people coming and going, and second, the stuff wasn't even on sale. So, after my left-turn-then-full-turn-to-the-right-then-left-turn-then-sidestep-the-coal manoeuvre, I was able to try and get past those leaving the store, through the six-foot gap. The space available was obviously judged to be adequate by the CIC, each of whom has the IQ of a twig. The episode reminded me of an experience which was the subject of a previous post on this blog entitled 'Panic Room'.
[ CIC - Cunts In Charge ]
The other side of the main door was a security guard. He was loitering by the single functioning door. Actually, the door was not functioning at all. The automatic sliding mechanism was fixed at 'open' (thankfully) but the narrowness meant the entrance was a hindrance rather than a decent means of entry or escape. He must have been party to some strange decision that led to a pallet of coal blocking a door. His presence meant that he had the best view of the stupidity. Shoppers were being kettled.
To my left, further evidence of kettling was in the form of a snake style barrier, to help people queue for the cigarette kiosk. Kettling was clearly in mind in the first two aisles, where at the end of each, to one side, was a cage full of empty packaging. The seven-foot aisle was thus reduced at each end to a four-foot funnel. In the central aisle that ran through the whole store, the progress was akin to that of a ball bearing in a pinball machine - stupid baskets and point-of-sale shit was cluttering up the route. In summary, the whole fucking place was a cross between a layout for pinball and a crazy golf course. Then, to escape, you're hearded/kettled into a checkout lane, where Maud tests her skills by 'beeping' your stuff over a scanner and drip feeding shitty carrier bags. The most challenging aspect of her routine was to identify three beef tomatoes. [I don't mean by name or star sign, just that they were indeed the meaty variety].
I ran the gauntlet along the back of the checkouts. On this occasion I was not fucked from the right at any of the T-junctions by someone with an empty trolley eager to load it up with bagged goods. I was however stuffed by the progress being made by oncoming bods who wanted to get to the cafe/restaurant conveniently situated in the far corner making access tricky. I also nearly ran over a woman who stopped suddenly to check her receipt. The chicane at the end was a challenge, but I wriggled past the newspaper pod/island, and the edge of the massive display of lager and loo rolls on pallets (!) just to be stumped by a tsunami of humans coming at me through the single door. I resisted the urge to dump my trolley, kick the security guard in the nuts and climb over the coal, and instead adopted the approach of a salmon going upstream.
Leaving the car park, I followed the one-way system (unlike some cunts) and escaped. The level of kettling was phenomenal. If it doesn't improve, then next week I am going to fill a couple of trolleys and then abandon them, go out and then come back in to do the same. I reckon that might be enough to tip the balance and cause gridlock.
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