The entrance doors are on the edge of a walkway that's approximately twelve feet wide, and runs for thirty-five feet before it widens, and turns, to reveal the wondrous world of Asda. Unfortunately life is not as simple as that, for the act of getting to the shopping area is not an easy one. Potential shoppers are hampered like fuck. The numerous obstacles today were:
- A group of cunts loitering at the alarm point. You'll be aware that there are large detectors through which shoppers have to go, and non-removal of security tags is the basis for a high pitched alarm sounding. There are two flat detectors in the walkway, so in effect, this gives three 'lanes' for the people going in and out to share. The middle one's about five feet wide, and the outer pair offer a gap of about four feet each. Today, one fat cunt in a stretched t-shirt (she was either pregnant or filled with six boxes of chicken goujons [boxes are eight for £1] and I judged the belly was the equivalent of a six-month brat that was developing an attitude in its mother's womb, or 48 goujons) was leaning forward on her trolly and blocking the far lane. Whilst she managed this all by herself, she was aided by another woman unglier than a wingless crane with palsy, who leant on one of the alarm fittings, and gassed (possibly from behind as well as from her mouth) while a third person stood at the end of fatty's trolley and looked gormless. This trio managed to blockade Asda to a level of 30%. The remaining 70% of access space was shared by those going in and coming out.
- Immediately after this, on the left hand side, was a weird encroachment of shite, and a woman raising money for something-or-other. She was sitting at a small desk, and I paid no attention, having darted into the place after seizing my opportunity to beat an oncoming pensioner to the gap. Just past the machine that changes your money from coins to a voucher after deducting a ludicrous percentage, is the entrance on the right to the toilets. These are small, totally inadequate, and a disgrace! It is a fact that outside, there's always a slight hold-up, as people slow and/or stop, and relieved people exit. The dithering means that the movement of people in and out of the store is lopsided, and there are in effect "eddy currents" of people moving. Today, there were a few takers for a quick piss in a sub-standard facility, and the empty trolleys were standing outside, as gormless co-shoppers waited.
- Normally there are, as Dolly Parton might say, "Islands In The Stream", created by carousels and baskets holding fucking bread. That's right, everyone knows that it's vital to have bread chosen on the way in rather than in the Bakery section. Yes, shoppers have long demanded that rather than be allowed easy access to the store, they are thwarted by bread, rolls, and such like. These obstacles even move - yes, they have wheels, and it is just a pity that someone doesn't simply wheel the cunts out the door and leave them by the cashpoints. It's not as if the alarms would sound, because desperate as times are, especially in Middlesbrough, tagging of bread is not yet in place. Anyway, the normal shitty plan of the store directors to block the walkway was not in place. Instead, the racks of dough-based shit were to one side. This still meant an inappropriate narrowness for a shop that was full, with people enough to warrant that all but one of the twelve checkouts was in use, as well as the six "do it your fuckin self" machines. Turning at the end of the walkway to move forward and shop has to be done in a space just six fucking cuntin feet wide. To the right is the corner of a pallet that piled with washing powder, and to the left, the counter for the pharmacy section. Just as I've never seen anyone negotiate awful traffic, find a space in the car park, enter the store, buy bread and leave [thus justifying the need for bread in the aisle at the entrance] I have never seen equal determination to bother with shopping just for washing powder in very big boxes. So, why the fuck does it all have to compromise the access?
- I haven't yet got to today's fantastic development! The reason for the bread being moved was to make way for a monstrous fucking gazebo! That's right, the twats in charge decided that the best place for a table and three chairs (at £105) underneath a fucking gazebo was at the entrace to the store! I kid you not. So, the hundreds of people going backwards and forwards had to use a reduced-width walkway courtesy of the loafing cunts by the security bollards, and after a shuffle past the loos, a six-foot gap. Then , it was necessary to get past, through, around (but not over or under) a fucking cuntin gazebo! Between the newspaper island, pallets and the first items for sale (clothes) there is not enough room anyway - in fact I'd say that the space was probably just about the size of a gazebo. Blimey - with that unit of measurement, there was only one course of action, wasn't there! Put a gazebo in the space just about large enough to hold one.
On the way out, I passed through the fucking thing, within three inches of an old woman who was sitting. No, she was not trying out the furniture to consider whether a purchase might be appropriate - she was fucking resting. By the way, I stooped at Customer Services on the way in, not for a rest after my ordeal, but to return something. I had to wait for a woman who'd decided to buy one of the things, and it was causing a problem. The shop assistant had to liaise with an old bloke wearing a tabard, who was expressing some sonderable doubt over the logistics. "I'll have to get a flatbed truck, and see," was what I heard him mumble, while scratching his head. Where the fuck the stock was kept I do not know, but it sure as hell wasn't easily accessible - a bit like the fucking shop!
This place is more and more like a zoo, mixed with a theme park. I expect a fucking waterslide next time! (There's space for one along the back of the checkouts, if shoppers leave in single file). Bollocking madness, Asda - sort yourselves out.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment