There needs to be some serious attention with regard to the presence of Scouts in the checkout area at Asda. Whilst I acknowledge that these days, every fucker is trying to raise money for something or other, there must surely be some sort of checking process to make sure there's a reasonable level of competence before neckerchief-clad teenagers are let loose in Asda.
Today I was met with an awkward fucker at the till, and two dozy boys at the end of the Asda checkout lane. They were on site, raising money for an unspecified reason. Most probably, they wanted a new tent, or were trying to bulk buy woggles from Taiwan. Whatever the basis for their presence, it soon became apparent to me that Asda had condoned unqualified packers to pack the shopping of customers. The level of awareness and common sense provided by the duo proved beyond any doubt whatsoever that the Scouting movement ought to give urgent and serious consideration to introducing a new test, and associated badge for those who pass the test. The two I encountered this morning would have needed considerable training to pass any such test.
First, I will expand on the "awkward" tag that I gave to the till operator. I knew she was going to be a stingy cunt the minute I was asked about bagging arrangements. Before the Scouts got anywhere near handling my goods, she was exploring whether I'd like normal bags or those stronger versions known as Bags For Life. I have enough information in my head (some of it posted on numerous previous occasions) to write a thesis on carrier bags. I passed on her offer to spend money on bags, and opted for "normal" bags. I used the plural in the vain hope that the mildly feminine quartermaster would provide more than one of the things.
She managed to comply, but not before enquiring which of my shopping was to be contained within bags. I was tempted to point to the full conveyor belt and say "That lot, you stupid cunt," but refrained on the basis that the two Scouts had a look about them that suggested they had yet to come across the word 'cunt' let alone know what one was. I could of course have helped them acquire a badge to confirm knowledge on this matter, but thought I'd let them mature at their own speed, and no doubt fiddle with a Guide in the years to come - or maybe a Brown Owl. I told the bag-dispenser, "All of it except the boxes," and decided not to ask her how the fuck I'd get any of it home if it was all loose. The two bags she flapped open and passed to the Scouts was simply NOT CUNTING SUFFICIENT and I have never met such cunting incompetence from a nob in charge of a till.
I placed the boxes of cider, which were first to be scanned, directly into the trolley, while Ant & Dec started packing. I began to wonder if the two of them were expecting a bonus if they saved using too many Asda carrier bags, as they were hell bent (a bit like my fucking shopping) on stuffing as much incompatible shopping in each bag as possible. When each had filled a bag, there was a temporary halt to any packing, as Brun-fucking-hilde carried on scanning and piling up the items. She realised she was a stupid cunt, and stopped to dispense two more bags.
I intervened when Ant was about to overfill a bag with wine. I suggested he ought to use a new bag (begrudgingly provided by Asda) for the further three bottles. I'd have thought common sense would have dictated a poor quality Asda bag is not a suitable container for six bottles of wine at £36. I could, I suppose, have left him to risk the bottom falling out, but that would have caused grief, delay and an argument over who was responsible. There were no terms and conditions available for reference, regarding the Scouting input at Asda.
Eventually I was asked for £96.63 by Begrudging Brunhilde, and the 37p was put into a money-rattler so that the Scouts could purchase six woggles. As I walked to the car park, I decided that next time, I would decline any offer of assistance. I could have bought six "Bags For Life" with that money, and these would have contained all shopping, with each only being half full, what with their thick plastic construction and capacity at double that of the flimsy Asda carrier bags. I left Ant & Dec to unassist the next customer, and set off for the exit.
I passed other checkouts, at the end of which were stationed Scouts of varying ages and sizes - and sexes. I clocked that it's now acceptable (in fact, compulsory) that girls are allowed to join the Scouts. However, boys are not allowed to join the Guides. That's discrimination. Still, that's a state of affairs that persists in Asda, because customers who bring Bags For Life or purchase them, are given better service than those who have the fucking audacity to expect Asda to provide the cheap (shitty) bags. On my way out, I passed the self-service area where just one customer was using the facility, and wads of carrier bags dangled invitingly from the side of seven other scanning points.
The week before last, Mrs MWSC was inconvenienced by an old bloke on a till who was clearly pissed off with her (and life, no doubt) because she was not wanting to purchase a Bag For Life. As a result, she was "allowed" just two normal ones, and this led to the "Bread Impasse". This is perhaps not as significant in terms of world history as the "Sinking of the Titanic" or the "Singeing of the King of Spain's Beard" [1587, if you're interested] but it was nevertheless a stalemate (pun intended). The stale looking old codger watched as Mrs MWSC considered instantly becoming The Woman Who Says Cunt ; between them was a loaf of bread that could not be contained within the two bags already supplied - they were full. He then proceeded to put the bread in a half-size fucking bag that one might use for a birthday card or a pair of fucking socks. The bag could only be carried by the handle/holes through creating the maximum span possible with the thumb and little finger each taking hold of a side.
When Mrs MWSC got home that day and recounted her experience, I was vicariously fucked off. I knew the bloke concerned, because he'd tried to encourage me to purchase a bad a few days before. There is some sort of mission at the local Asda.
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