Grandma's Gin is neither a card game, nor a tourist attraction. It is not the name of a racehorse or a sailing boat. It is simply a reference to the gin that Grandma purchased at Morrisons on Monday. Grandma's gin was taken from the shelf and added to other items (including tonic) that formed the basis of a small shopping trip. Grandma is quite old, and was accompanied by granddaughter. At the checkout, Grandma stationed herself at the conveyor end, and did not pass the till as she was paying. Granddaughter went to the end of the checkout, and prepared a few carrier bags. I learned that she "doubled up" (no, not with laughter - the bags!) in anticipation of the known bottles, although anyone who's followed my blog will know that of all the supermarkets, Morrisons does have the best carrier bags, and the "double up" was probably unnecessary. Anyway, back to the checkout, where Granddaughter was waiting, bags at the ready, having declined the pathetically offered help, via the "do you need any help with the packing" bollocks.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you pack the gin," said the checkout operator to Granddaughter.
"Why not?" she replied.
"Because you don't look over 21" came the tiresome drone from the jobsworth.
"I'll be 23 in two months," said the incredulous Granddaughter.
"Well, you don't look 21"
"Er, . . . that's cos I'm not, I'm, 22 and in two months I'll be 23" said Granddaughter, confused as to how the dozy cunt got a job involving numbers and money, and people.
"Well, it's more than my job's worth to let you pack it; it's the law."
"I'm not paying for it, I'm just putting it in a bag" was the very reasonable comment back.
"You could be a secret shopper doing an inspection, and I could lose my job, so it's just not worth it."
"I'm just helping my Grandma."
"I'm sorry, but your Grandma will have to pack it."
At this point, TMWSC would have been tempted, in the Granddaughter's shoes, to suggest to the checkout operator that on second thoughts, the offer to help with the packaging would indeed be taken up, and that unless the operator packed all the shopping, Gin plus all the other non-offensive, non-tricky items, all would be dumped. Or, TMWSC might have been tempted to let the operator ring up all the items and then abandon the shopping, and a no doubt irate (but still dozy) checkout operator. Instead, there was no escalation of Gin-gate, and Grandma stepped in - possibly motivated by a G&T in the not too distant future.
"My Grandma could just give it to me once we're outside the shop if it really was me who wanted it."
The checkout operator had a clear conscience, and confirmed, "As long as I do my job properly, it's not down to me what happens after I've served you and you've finished shopping."
The security guard considered pepper spraying Grandma as she left through the main door, as she stepped on a line between the tiles, and that's obviously an offence. Meanwhile, the wheels of commerce continued to turn, as the checkout operator abused a young father who wanted some Oats but apparently was not dressed as a fuckin' Quaker.
In conversation on Tuesday evening, I learned of someone's experience of being declined service, when attempting to buy ice cream and spoons. Unfortunately, the till operator could see no truth in the link between two seventeen-year-olds each holding a tub of ice cream, and between them a shared pack of cheap spoons. Apparently, the belief on the other side of the counter was that rather than eat ice cream with the spoons, the two polite and sensible looking chaps were about to heat up heroin and inject. So, they could drive to the shop in a car, and if they chose to, get married and/or have sex legally, or join the British Armed Forces; but buying a spoon was half way to being a terrorist, it seemed. It was never established what the spoon-buying age requirement was. Maybe if they'd been 21 with passports, the assistant would have nodded at the purchase and pending drug session, perhaps with two syringes supplied as well if there was a BOGOF offer on.
One of the 'pound' shops in town is known to refuse to sell aerosols to those who aren't 16. No deodorant then for those who cannot prove they're 16+, and we all know that 15-year-olds can't/don't smell, ever. I recall also an incident when the local corner shop refused to sell to son of TMWSC a hand-rolling machine. Apparently he needed ID to prove he was 18 to buy the cunting plastic and metal gadget for 90p. Twats. That's like refusing to sell someone who can't prove he's 18 a bottle of tonic because it's bound to be used in association with gin!
So, all in all, it's hard work shopping these days. Still, Grandma got her gin, Morrisons proved itself over zealous through the conduct of its checkout operators, the security guard proved there's nothing much to do so he looks for trouble wherever he can find it, and teenagers in Redcar probably smell. Finally, buy cones and not tubs of ice cream, unless you're eating it at home and can get a spoon from the kitchen drawer.
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