October 1, 2008 | 5 Comments
So Why Do I See 17 In Your Basket?
I’m sorry, but they call it the Express Queue for a reason - it’s designed specifically for people like me, who quickly nip in for the evening papers, perhaps a naughty doughnut, maybe a cheap bottle of wine or two in celebration of yet another Wednesday.
It’s NOT supposed to be for lazy mullet-wearing husbands and wives who can’t be bothered to stand in the regular queues, and then still have the chutspah to hold up all the other express customers because their son had to quickly waddle over to aisle 15 for the toilet paper they forgot.
They then want to get antsy with me when I politely point out the scientific impossibility that their full basket only contains 10 items, and make subtle enquiries as to their schooling and level of intelligence.
The wife will then threaten to “bliksem” me, not realising that I live with The Girlfriend, and am thus quite used to being beaten up by a woman half my size. Her husband and his mullet’s threat that I “watch myself” also falls on deaf ears, as it’s something I have done for years, and is quite enjoyable under the correct light and romantic setting.
The fact of the matter is that these people are breaking the rules, the same people who will then sit around a dinner table and proceed to moan about crime and the country’s various problems.
It starts with the little things.
Bringing 17 different items to a “10 item or less” queue is just not good enough - it’s like me parking in the disabled bay at Caprice, on the basis that I have a third nipple.
That’s not going to fly. Let’s all sort our shit out and stop breaking the rules.
