I am not sure that the scene in ASDA yesterday was truly in line with 1970s Beirut or whether the lack of stock on shelves was reminiscent of a supermarket in the USSR, but it was nevertheless one of pandemonium, shortages, dithering and annoyance.
New Year's Eve meant a mild panic by many, who might not survive a day of non-shopping, and so necessitated extensive stocking up. This, together with ASDA's fucking disgraceful approach to providing a facility in which to shop, meant there was not a single fucking chicken to be had. I cant recall the exact number of chickens killed every year, but it is something like 60 billion. It seems that there were many birds which qualified for a reprieve in the last couple of weeks, leading Asda to run out.
Needless to say I could not obtain any beansprouts, for the simple reason that the local ASDA has made some sort of policy decision not to stock them, which is cunting criminal. Back to yesterday, and my efforts to get some bread and milk, a dog treat, some Sprite and a case of beer, along with something for tea. This was not a massively challenging 'list' in my opinion, but ASDA decided to make it so, through two measures. The first was to ensure that there was no chicken for sale. I did not though feel targeted in any special way, as those seeking mushrooms, and a whole range of other vegetables were truly disappointed. They had long gone, never to be restocked - just like the streaky bacon. The other measure introduced to complicate my errand was to ensure there were staff dithering in the fucking way.
In some sort of vague effort to impede the progress of shoppers, the aisles were filled with cages, mostly containing stock. In the vicinity of each was a squatting or stretching uniformed worker obstructing shoppers and achieving little. I found one such twat in the dog food aisle. Hard up against one side were two cages, behind which were some dog treats that I had my eye on - well, would have, if I could make out what was what. The chap in charge of the aisle, the cages, restocking and impedance was intent on putting dog food on the shelves. I though about redirecting him to the cunting chicken aisle, but then remember I'd picked up two Indian ready meals for £10, to serve as tea. Thus, I waited for an opportunity to gain access to the treats.
It was less easy than threading a needle, or finding out why the cunt with the "Space Here" sign was not pointing at the shelves instead of a checkout lane while trying to look more intelligent than the sign's wooden pole. The Pedigree Chump in charge of dog food was aware of my interest in the shelves around and behind his two cages, but was adamant that they were there for a reason. What it was escaped me, as Chump seems to be taking stuff from a cage further up the aisle and then putting it in one of the two cages before me. He nipped back for some Winalot, and I took the opportunity to pull one forward, to gain access to the shelf behind. I was squatting, in the style of an ASDA worker, when I felt the cage being nudged towards me. Fucking cheek. I braced myself in the style recommended by Ryanair, and adopted the RSJ position. This was enough for Chump to realise I'd gained access to stock for sale, and so he went off to his back-up cage.
As I left the aisle, I looked at Chump, and he looked at me. I knew he knew I knew it was him who'd nudged the cage. I let him proceed unscathed, and he continued to fulfill society's desperate need for ludicrous amounts of dog food to be available on New Year's Eve at 4pm.
Bread was available, and I picked up a loaf with ease from the top shelf, not least because I am tall enough to reach to the back and gain a loaf with the longest life. This was in stark contrast to my last visit to ASDA, on Sunday last, when there was a frantic exercise in progress which involved a worker reducing everything to 10p. The trolley in front of the shelves of bread held items with yellow stickers, and the ASDA woman was furiously topping up the trolley. I was in the process of inspecting what was on offer when it started to move. Yes, Attila the Twat [she was a hefty lass] was absconding with the scones, and the various loaves.
Clearly I am behind the times in retail theory, and was totally unaware that the people most likely to buy cheap bread with limited life are those who are perusing cheap clothes and half-price cleaning liquid and newspapers. For this is where the trolley ended up, as I saw on my exit from ASDA. Attila had wheeled it away, and found this new home for what was a strange array of products. I considered that ASDA's policy was flawed, because everyone already in the shop would be denied the chance of seeing the reduced items, and any wanting bread would probably veer towards the bread section, where there was nothing reduced to clear. I then decided that at about £7 per hour, Attila had earned £3.50 before tax, but her efforts were likely to yield for ASDA fewer than 35 purchases at 10p. In economic terms, she should have been sent home and the items left alone. A handful might have sold (at no on cost) and throwing the remainder away would have cost less than having Attila's input at all. Anyway, yesterday must have been her day off.
The world price of Sprite has suddenly shot up. I know this because ASDA has unfortunately had to respond in the only way it knows how - to increase the price. Those of you who are cynical might think there was a purposeful move to rip off customers in their time of need. I am not one who thinks this might be the case - I fucking know it. Last week, I bought three bottles for £3 because the offer was good and Junior likes his sprite. Yesterday, they were available at £1.85 each! I thought I may as well get the eight-packs which have been available at "two for £5" for the last couple of months. but oh no - they were £4.79 each. Clearly the cunts in charge like playing games.
Just to highlight how we in Britain are ripped off all the time, Sprite is available in Mercadona [Spain] at ONE EURO for a bottle. This has been the case for the last two years to my certain knowledge. That equates to little more than 80p per bottle, and for a year, the bottles have in fact been 2.25 litres rather than 2 litres! Not an "offer" in sight!.
I decided not to bother with the Sprite, and picked up two cases of lager. The checkouts were heaving, but I coped admirably. Amy engaged in no small talk whatsoever, for which I (silently) thanked her. She was not stingy with the bags, so I was able to make my escape quite efficiently.
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