Posts Tagged ‘race’

Have you ever noticed the amount of races that naturally occur at a supermarket?

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The first race is on the way into the car park, you see the space open up and you make your move. Only to finish a close second to someone else. But it’s okay, you just calmly move onto the next available spot. Well, most of the time…

Then you go to the trolley area. The last speedy shopper is parked, all shiny, waiting for you to insert the pound that you’ve probably left at home. When suddenly the elderly folks in front remember their youth and sprint the ten metres to the remaining trolley and take it first. But again, that’s all part of the fun of shopping.

You then enter the shop and it becomes more of a destruction derby then a race. You try to avoid anyone and anything that moves. But it’s carnage. People are everywhere. Trolleys appear out of nowhere and hit you in the sweet spot on your ankle, the spot you only find out causes a great deal of pain, when you become a supermarket shopper. But it’s fine, you get a meaningful sorry from the mother of the toddler ramming the trolley into your heel and off you go.

Oh look, there’s a sale on. The last few items are left and you really want one. But suddenly like a 100 metre sprint, people are coming from all sides of you. You even leave the trolley, alone, vulnerable, to get your hands on the last cream cake reduced to 10 pence by the student who is counting down the seconds to get drunk and post pictures on his Facebook, that in the morning, he’ll be trying to stop people tagging before his mom sees them.

Then it’s off to the checkout and this is a fairly new race but one that makes me smile. If you have an OCD like me and feel the need to put the frozen with the frozen, chilled with the chilled and fresh with the fresh, you’ll be politely declining the offer of help with your packing and possibly already aware of this race. When you answer no, you fire an imaginary starting pistol in the checkout attendants head. They suddenly feel the need work through your groceries like the world is due to end in about 5 seconds. Ten thousand items in the blink of an eye. You suddenly realise you did need help after all. Although when you accept help you have to discuss every item you’ve purchased with a complete stranger. That’s a bargain, those are nice, that toilet roll doesn’t rip your bum hole to shreds and all of the other polite chit-chat you get when receiving the help.

After all of this the fun part comes, when the kids want to race to take the trolley back. You think of how well you’ve raised them and how polite and helpful they are. And then you remember the pound in the trolley, the one that you couldn’t find and the one you have definitely now lost for ever…