12.6.12 Asda Offer

Fucking madness, I say.  Okay, I admit that I did not properly read the details on the ticket, and that it does say you need to present the original receipt.  BUT, for fucks sake, Asda!  The £5 voucher was hard enough to get hold of.  Just over a week ago, after a hundred quid left my pocket, I was handed by the till operator a small piece of card, upon which were printed many many lines of small print, to explain the offer of a £5 voucher to be used against my next £40 shop.  The terms were ludicrous and included all sorts of requirements as to the exclusions, and necessary make-up of the purchases in order that the 'shop' qualifies.  I pocketed the long receipt and the printed guide.

At the weekend, I attempted to gain my voucher, following the instructions, entering till number, store number transaction number, the number of items not on display on the shelves through Asda being out of stock or choosing to boycott certain lines, and the time of purchase (to the fucking second).  For the record, a whole pissing shelf of Oral-B toothpaste is overkill and biased as fuck, and the Freshmint Macleans toothpaste was nowhere.  Anyway, after completing all the stages and entering my email address and real address, I was asked to print the fucking thing out - the £5 voucher.  I have no printer attached to the laptop; I would have though one might be allowed to save the cunt?  PDF?  Aresholes.

Mrs MWSC obliged, and repeated all necessary steps (39 of them - equalling Richard Hannay's efforts in the novel) and presented me with the voucher, which I presented this evening at Asda.  After a quick shop worth £123.81, I was miffed as cunting fuck to be told I needed to hand over the original receipt as well.  My query resulted in some clarification; Mrs Checkout Operator [I know it's not her fault, and it's policy rather than her being a shit, but Jesus Christ!] said she needed to check the details of the voucher against the original receipt.  What sort of cuntin shit is this?  She needs to check that the numbers that I put in at the PC while online, in all the various boxes, taking reference from the till receipt which included details no cunt in the universe could have made up and got right bearing in mind one of the details was the fucking time of purchase down to the second, to make sure it's a valid transaction.  The fucking computer managed all right on its own to do all this, luv!  If I need to keep the original cuntin receipt, so she can look at all the details for comparison, why the fucking hell do I need to print the cunt off!  Surely I can wave a receipt for £100 at her, and then point at the bill for this shop at another £123.81 and say "I claim my cuntin fiver!"  Pathetic; Roll Back the prices (that's a lie) and at the same time Roll Back common sense and intellect.  I waited for a few seconds, seriously - oh, so fucking seriously - considering walking off and leaving them to put away the decent sized but abandoned shopping order.  I decided not to cut my nose off to spite my face.

I will not be shopping at Asda for the next eight weeks, during which time I would ordinarily have spent £500.  I am quite sure this gesture will match in its futility -

a) the efforts of Kelly Brook to do anything of value/use
b) the efforts of Mark Wright to be worth watching on TV
c) my hope that Will.i.am won't
d) my dream that Halifax adverts will one day not feature fucking singing
e) an end to self-service checkouts
f) the demise of the Co-op
g) the charge of the Light Brigade

Still, I will get some small sense of satisfaction knowing that £500 is not in Asda's till because the stingy bastards made me go to all that effort before denying me my £5.  Corporate cuntism. 

Before I sign off, a final word on an item for sale labelled as "Swim Shorts".  Fuck off, Asda.  We do not have cycle shorts, run shorts, a carve knife, a jump bean - there's a fucking "ING" missing (well, plus another 'm') - Swimming.

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