At the checkouts, I had a dilemma. One of the two checkouts was manned on my left, and one of the two sideways-on tills at the kiosk was womaned. There was no obvious advantage to joining one above the other, so I stood behind a bloke in the kiosk queue. In front of him, a woman was being served by Rita.
Rita works at one speed - nearly slow. 'Slow' would be an improvement, but she insists on remaining one notch below that. The customer was fucking about with cuntin' scratch cards and tops ups, after having bagged her shopping. Rita was annoying the fuck out of Planet Earth, and more importantly, me, and staring at the yellow Paypoint terminal with the expression of a squirrel watching a nut, in the hope that it would miraculously de-shell itself. I looked over at Marc, moving things over the scanner more efficiently. However, another customer with a basket joined the short line, so movement on my part would probably be of no benefit.
Rita squeaked something to the departing woman, and looked towards the bloke in front of me. He plonked his basket on the counter, and I saw it contained 24 litres of purple-top milk (WTF?) That was unhelpful because I doubted that the dull-eyed and non-bushy tailed Rita would be able to even lift them across the scanner. The bloke also handed over a collection of lottery ticks, a credit card and delivered instructions involving phrases of "£10 on that one, £20 on that one, and £10 on that." Before I could discover whether Rita would have the sense to scan one of the cartons of milk and enter "x6" on her till rather than struggle, I fucked off to the other line.
When I got there, there was just the one chap in front of me, having his last item scanned. However, Marc had put the "This Checkout Is Closed" sign at the end of the belt. This sign is a euphemism for "Fuck Off You Cunts, I Ain't Serving You'. I looked back at Secret Squirrel and saw her head twitching at just above counter level, and saw two lads join the queue. Fucking hell.
I decided that with cash in my hand and just three items to be scanned, I had reason to think that Marc would oblige, especially as he couldn't possibly leave the whole shop to function with Rita at the helm. I waited, and observed Marc enter a weird conversation with the customer, who was querying something. After much fucking about, and over a minute past my arrival, I realised that Marc had made no eye contact at all; I suspected he was willing me not to be there. He eventually handed changed to the bloke, and with a fancy manoeuvre (which in ice skating terms would be classed as a "Triple Salco, with Middle Finger and Fuck You") he turned away from me and walked away!
I plonked by paper, milk and Vienetta on the inert belt, and pissed off. As I left the shop, I heard 'helpful' Marc put out a call on the tannoy - "Customer waiting at the checkout".
This fucking shop has staff whose whole approach is anti-customer. There are numerous examples every week of 'work to rule' approaches by most staff. Last week, Mrs MWSC observed another amazing example of the service to customers. A young lad was working on the till, and mid-way through emptying and scanning the contents of the customer's basket, he stopped and sat back. He simply said to the customer that she'd have to wait. Mrs MWSC was puzzled, and eventually another shop worker came over. The lad said he should have gone home one minute ago, and so needed to be relieved. The co-worker fucked off to get someone. All the time, the customer was standing, waiting for the other half-dozen items to be scanned. Eventually, a woman came to take over on the till, and complete the transaction. Cuntin' unbelievable! It says a lot as well about the attitude of staff, especially this young lad, when there's nothing by way of flexibility, and his input stretching for one more minute! Even Magnus Magnusson used to finish what he'd started.
I am off to Morrisons in a minute. Let's hope there's less hassle there, eh? Meanwhile, I wonder whether the Cunt-op has bothered to put the Vienetta back in the freezer and whether Rita is still nearly slow. I have no need to wonder what Marc is, because I know the answer.
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