Not for the first time, I have had to survive the "Trial By Ordeal" that is a visit to Asda. My health is regularly threatened by the tribulations that accompany the trials, and my survival and return this evening warranted a beer immediately upon the unloading of the car.
Cashpoint
The ATM was offering fuck all in the way of functionality, and so my preference to use cash was blocked within seconds of leaving the car. Just as well I had my credit card on me. Junior was elected Chief Trolley Pusher, though he did not actually have much choice. We entered the green grotto with a mild sense of purpose, despite the annoyance of no cash in my pocket.
Shaving Gel
I looked at the display, and was irritated, because the various canisters available under the Gillette brand were ALL marked with "Shave Gel". I noticed that just as Lidl was last week selling a product called "Irritation Defense", Asda too was promoting this atrocious example of the use of language. There is simply no excuse for this, and no DEFENCE! Wilkinson Sword was guilty of the same "Shave" crime, as was Dove. I looked at the Asda own brand versions, and they too were thus described! Only Nivea was capable of describing the contents of the metal tube as Shaving Gel. I picked one up and silently thanked Nivea for holding out, in a world of cunting crap, where we suffer similar incorrect terms like "swim shorts". Some cunt or other will no doubt decide that it's a "skip rope", and test the patience of old ladies soon with "knit needles".
Cushelle
Asda is simply unable to act responsibly when marketing stuff. Loo roll in packs greater than 4 is supposed to provide added value, and one might be forgiven for thinking that a purchase of 12 Cushelle toilet rolls would result in some sort of saving. The twelve pack is available at £5. Meanwhile, the larger 'denomination' of eighteen rolls is only a quid more! No logic whatsoever, and customers will undoubtedly lose out in some cases.
Empty Shelves
The excellent offer on Activia yoghurts was a real tease, as there were none available in any edible flavour. The shelf designed to hold boxes of mini mince pies was empty. I was similarly miffed in a number of areas, because the store was a useless fucking excuse for a supermarket. This did not stop the staff from being inconvenient, by blocking aisles with trolleys laden with stuff that was not needed any time soon.
Volatile Prices
Obviously the prices of stocks and shares go up and down, and anyone trading in them needs to have their wits about them. In the same way, the prices of knives and steamers are susceptible to market forces, and can vary. This must be the explanation for the difference in the prices on two items since the Friday visit. Four days ago, a particular knife (a Kitchen Devil) was £4 instead of £6, and a set of pans to steam vegetables was up to £12 from the Friday market rate of £8. I rued missing out on the steamer set, and cursed my lack of judgement. How was I to have known that the market would change so radically, pushing up the worth of steamed vegetables and the means to make them so? "Fuck off, Asda," I thought, and kept moving.
Batteries
I picked up some Duracell AA batteries, pleased that there was an offer on. Then I tried to find the 'C' and 'D' sizes. Nothing loomed. I roamed the store, and neither Junior nor I was able to stumble across anything alkaline in a size C or D. I asked a stock-taker. I knew he was a stock-taker because he had a large digital terminal, and was pissing about while squatting, assessing the items on the bottom shelf while logging information. I resisted the urge to let him know that the Activia shelf was cunting empty, and asked about batteries. "They're at the tills," he said.
Lager
Having cobbled together the bones of a subsistence shopping trip, I moved on to the penultimate requirement from this trip. At £11 per case of twenty 440ml cans, I loaded five into the trolley. Then it was time to find a checkout operator who was more capable than a paraplegic squat-thruster.
Batteries 2
At the tills, I found a pathetic selection of batteries in sizes C and D. They were some sort of Ultra Super Life-Saving Deluxe Cuntishly Expensive version that proved to be unnecessarily and cuntishly expensive! I realised within a second, not least because I needed 8 of the C variety and 4 of the D variety, that I would be better off financially if I ordered them from a company in the Channel Islands, and so did not add to the contents of my trolley.
Checking Out
In my frustration, I'd made a small mistake, picking up three multi-packs of AA batteries. They were priced individually at £5.50 but the offer was £6.00 for two. Clearly the third of my three was a pointless purchase. Luckily I was aware enough to spot this during the scanning process. Asda's corporate habit [or perhaps AFFLICTION] is to advertise offers and then not apply them at the tills during the checkout process. I queried the £5.50 I'd seen and was given a choice. The checkout chap said he'd get me another one if I wanted. I opted for what I thought would be the speedier approach, and asked for one to be removed from the bill.
A couple of minutes later, after I'd put my credit card into the machine, the checkout chap asked me to leave my card in for a couple of minutes; I was puzzled, but the explanation was volunteered without my having to ask. It turned out that he needed authorisation for the 'void' of a £5.50 charge, and this was because it was "over five pounds". Thus, I had to stand idle like a twat holding a "Space at This Checkout" sign while we all waited for a cunt with a cache of keys to arrive, insert the right one, punch a few numbers and allow the checkout chap to close the transaction without any query regarding the situation that required his fucking presence and 'authorisation'.
Penguin-gate
I checked my receipt. I noticed that the two packs of Penguins were logged at £1.39 each, yet I was convinced they were on offer, just as they have been for at least ten weeks. I know this because Junior picks up two packs on every visit. On this occasion, he'd done the exact same thing as we progressed down the relevant aisle. I was perplexed, and so Junior and I moved towards the "Customer Service" desk.
[I also noted that according to the receipt, I'd purchased "Shave Gel". This was obviously inaccurate, though in keeping with Asda's endorsement of the stupid convention for renaming products. I knew different, of course, as I was in possession of "Shaving Gel" - exactly what it says on the tin.]
At the counter, I was pleased to see no one pondering upon the purchasing options for invisible cigarettes, and no one putting on lottery tickets for the 24 residents (and individual requirements) of an old people's home. Once the chap paying cash (he'd obviously not had to rely on the Asda ATM) for some logs and a bottle of Cava (WTF?) had finished, I was served by "Crystal" [not her real name].
Crystal made it clear, after telephone consultation, that the Penguin offer was not applicable to all varieties. I was not really aware of what Junior had opted to put in the trolley. It was alleged that despite every week for so many weeks having been one where any penguin pack was included in the running offer, today was the day where the vaguely aligned price tickets applied to the Toffee and Orange varieties, and NOT the Mint or Original varieties. Junior, who had picked up an Orange and an Original had therefore sinned against humanity, and fucked up the order of things. This FTSE meltdown had led to the charging of 2x £1.39 rather than 2x £1.00. Junior would have to eat two packs of the Orange variety.
I walked with Junior to the aisle, picked up an extra Orange pack, and returned to the Customer Service counter. There, Crystal decided I needed to know that the Toffee variety is "really nice". Her enthusiasm and excitement was weird. I yawned (metaphorically) because I personally have no interest in Penguins (the biscuit, I mean . . . . although, to be fair, the living creatures are of little relevance either, unless they are featured in an annoying - but thankfully shortened for the last week or so - John Lewis advert). It is worth noting that DILWNSC has previously described the Penguin as "the scum of the biscuit world," and I am inclined to agree, and commend her forthright view.
I realised that 78p was to come my way, but hadn't realised this would require a secure and stringent process to afford me the benefit. I had to insert my credit card (the one used for the original transaction but not to obtain an 'original' penguin) and enter my PIN. I obliged, and left the store wondering why anyone would rave about a Toffee Penguin.
Off Her Trolley
After Junior took his seat, and I had loaded the shopping in the car boot, I returned my large trolley to the source of metal-cages-on-wheels. As I earned the reimbursement of a quid for my efforts, I was asked a question by the woman next to me. This was the woman ramming her metal forward, and getting nowhere fast. "Why won't it work for me?" she asked. "Because you need to put it with the other small trolleys," I said. This dipstick of a twat was trying to ram a small trolley into the backside of a large trolley, for the prize of her quid back. She demonstrated to me that the IQ of the average Asda shopper is somewhere (in pence) between half the price per pack of Penguins, and half of the price per pack of Penguins which qualified for the offer [so, between 50 and 69.5].
I drove away, ready for a lager.
* DILWNSC = Daighter-In-Law Who Never Says Cunt
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