Hopping mad...

I enjoyed reading this the other day. Especially "invisibility is a super power".

I was sorting through my badly organised filing system and came across a letter someone wrote to me back in January. "If you were to write a sequel," it goes, "you could call it 'On Another Shout'."

I was in Tesco at lunch and, within seconds of entering the store, was accosted by one of their employees. "Do you have a Tesco club card?" "No, I'm not interested and I have an issue with your employer wanting to share my personal details and buying habits across its companies." "So you don't really shop in Tesco?" "I didn't say that. I'm in here all of the time thanks to your two-for-one deals on Ginsters pasties and your very affordable baby wipes. I said I have an issue with the concept of your club cards." "Okay sir, that's fine, you don't have to have one." That's good news. If only they didn't have to keep asking me whether I had one. Funny thing on Doo You about the cards - apparently, they provide "Tesco with information on customers hopping habits etc."

Checkout man...

I’m in Tesco, buying a snack for lunch. It ends up being a piece of pastry containing chicken and mushroom. So I head to the checkouts, carrying my single item, walk past the self-checkout checkout due to my adverse reaction to the increasingly automated world that is being forced upon us and decide that, as everywhere else is a tad busy, I’ll make for the basket aisle. There are two “basket only” checkouts at the Tesco in Beverley, each of which had a person being served at them. And stood between both of the check-outs, but a good 6 foot back from where a normal queue would start at either, was a man clutching a basket. He was hedging his bets, quite obviously, and refusing to stand in one queue just in case the other moved faster. So I simply took matters into my own hands, walked past him, and plonked myself behind the person stood at the till on the right. “Excuse me,” came the feeble voice, “I think you’ll find that I’m ahead of you in the queue.” “Well, why are you stood right back there?” “It’s where I always stand.” So, rather than run the risk of confrontation I stepped away from the queue and stood next to him. “You always stand here?” I muttered in disbelief, “I’ve met people like you before. You won’t commit to one queue or the other, so you stand in both. Don’t you think that’s a rather selfish thing to do?” He smiled the smile that only a man who stands in two queues simultaneously can smile. The person at the queue I had jumped to almost the front of was now ready to move. “I’m stood in this queue,” said my new enemy, and moved to the front of the queue. By which time quite a crowd had gathered, so I moved the queue right next to this double queue lovin’ man. He packed his bag and then had the nerve to look at me, laugh, say “see ya!” and give me a little wave as he skipped away. I found myself hoping that the bottom would fall out of his carrier bag. It was at this point that I realised that I’d met this man before – he’s the one that forms a single queue at cash points and fast food outlets. You’ve met him too, haven’t you?