So I just did the Aldi run and I think I'm suffering from PTSD. Seriously.
It was okay until I got to the checkout. You know the drill. There are 6 people in front of you, the conveyer belt has approximately 730 grocery items on it belonging to those 6 so it'll be a fair while yet before it's your turn but no, this magic belt moves at about 145 miles per hour so before you can say "jesus I paid 4 euro for this last week in Tesco" you're actually to place your groceries on. Neatly and in sensible order of course. Hmmm, how shall I do this? Put frozen together, veg together, cereals in with breads, coffee with juice? Or is it big items together and small items together? Or maybe glass jars together. I obviously don't want anything getting squished or dented, that goes without saying. Perhaps if I stick to frozen together and chilled stuff together then.... oh, hang on, jesus, it's moving fast. She's asking the one second in front of me "cash or card?". Don't panic. You can do this. Put your groceries on the thing. Relax. Deep breath. Surely there's time.
Okay, frozen first. Uh, jesus christ, it's actually nearly my turn. Ha, how did that happen?! The one in front is getting her purse out. Already? Don't worry. Just maybe don't be too picky. It's not the end of the world if the frozen get mixed in with the jars and sweets... ah fuck, I'm next. She's got her arms folded waiting for me to finish putting the stuff on. Ah fuck fuck fuck, it doesn't matter what the order is, just don't squish the bread and rolls. Put it all up there. Oh jesus, it's done. It's there. I'm at the top. Oh hang on. I have to swing the trolley around so the front is facing the side of the checkout or is it the back facing the side? Which is it? Fucking fuck fuck, I can't remember. How come everyone else knows how to align it? Is this on the school curriculum now? Okay, very low sigh (but definitely audible) from checkout girl. She aligns it for me. I blush and say sorry. Ha ha. Mutter mutter. Panic over.
Now open out your 4 bags (brought from home cause I'm thrifty and environmentally conscious). Open them out inside the trolley so all items can go IN bags and not loose in the troll... oh fuck fuck fuck, they're all backed up on the till. There's no more room. She had to pause her scanning. Grab them. Just fuck them in the trolley. Anywhere. Any-fucking-where. Just fuck them in. Oh jesus they're coming hard and fast now. How the fuck does this skinny young girl move her hands so fast. Ah fuck, they're falling 'n everything. The bread's in bits. It doesn't matter. Just fuck them in. Fuck them anywhere. On the ground. In my handbag. In my shoes. In the 3.99 2,000 screw set the guy behind me has. Just hurry the fuck up. The pressure. I want to cry. The others in the queue hate me. I don't want to be hated. I want to be loved. I wish I had a husband. God I'm so alone here. Those smarmy smug bastaring fucking grocery experts. I hate them.
Oh jesus the milk's on the floor. Leave it. LEAVE it, it doesn't matter. FUCK them all in. The pesto has opened and the washing up liquid is leaking onto the bread. It doesn't matter. There's no going back. You can't go home again. It's collatoral damage time. Just fuck the whole fucking lot in to the fucking trolley with one big swipe of your arm. There! They're all in anyway and I'll just fuck them in the bin when I get outside. I don't care anymore. There's some cornflakes at home and I'm sure there's some social welfare rice my Mam got from her friend's Dad's bingo buddy. That'll do. I didn't want pasta, pesto, milk, wine, eggs anyway. Jesus I'm sweating. Is this the menopause? Why are all the other women not sweating. God her lipstick is lovel.... what? Cash or card? What? I don't know. I don't know. Oh here, card. Just take it. Please. I just want to die. "That's a library card." Oh shit. Ha ha. "That's funn.... oh it's not? Sorry" Here. Here's some cash. Take it all. Sorry for existing and for not knowing the secret Aldi system. I hate my life and I want to die.
But in fairness, the rice and stale cornflakes weren't half bad.
No comments:
Post a Comment