Shopping

I am beginning to think that super markets and hypermarkets are secretly scheming organizations to con the poor common person. They are also somehow arm in arm while conspiring with wives.

Now please do not get me wrong – everything under one roof, extremely convenient, very clean, air-conditioned and the like. Rows and rows of well stocked items – prices marked clearly and many of the items ON SALE! You can save money too!

However, let me start at the beginning. Now this is not a one off if not I would not be keying this in – this has become some sort of a routine.

Therefore, the Mrs. and I enter to buy one loaf of bread and possibly some milk. At least, that is what I am told.

Why we just never sent for it from the grocery downstairs never occurred to me – dim wit that I am.

As a matter of habit ,  I pick up a basket  although I could actually manage without one – after all its just two items or maybe one or two more and we will be out in a jiffy (in my dreams).

It’s two loaves finally – brown bread and whole wheat and incidentally I hate both – I am a ‘white bread’ man! A few rolls are also bought for good measure in case the bread runs out or we have guests. Thinking of how dry the bread looks I pick up some butter and spreadable cheese for good measure. At least I will not choke!

Choosing milk has become somewhat a dilemma for many I guess -  there is Whole Milk, Full fat milk, Low fat Milk, Skimmed Milk, Organic Milk, Lactose-Free Milk, Cow milk, camel milk etc.  Then there are different companies and different sizes of bottles. Last but not the least are the manufacturing and expiry dates. By the time we are done with choosing the milk, we could have reared a cow or a camel for that matter

Just beside the milk are the custards for which I have an affinity so a few custards are chosen  and put into the basket as well – need I add there are many varieties but I know what I want so it is a no brainer.  A small ice cream won’t do us any harm although I have sworn to cut down – so a smallish ice cream it is .

Rows and rows of vegetables beckon and the moment we stop there, I know the routine – I trudge all the way back to the entrance – put down the basket, pull out a trolley and transfer the contents to it. I know fully well this is not going to be a sprint so I prepare for a marathon.

Supermarket trolleys often have a life of their own and I invariably pick one that is stubborn and wants to go in some vague direction. Why they do not oil the wheels beats me. So, while I am pushing south the trolley is moving South east and I am cursing – so I go back and change the trolley.

By the time, I get back to the vegetable area I am greeted with an exasperated look on the wife’s face as she stands with both hands full of vegetables, which I then go to have weighed. Am I slowing down or what ?

 Have you ever seen the young women who operate these weighing areas? They are talking to each other, keying in codes, sticking on price labels, putting vegetables into plastic bags and smiling. It is all one fluid motion and they do not miss a beat- pure genius.

Vegetables, are then followed by fruit and the trip to weigh the same is repeated.

“While we are about it, we may as well pick up a few more things rather than have to make another trip ”  is a phrase most husbands are familiar with. The ‘ few more ’ are pulses, oil, condiments , bathing accessories , shampoos , creams , biscuits , savory items ,   cat food , cleaning  liquids  , brushes , mops , disinfectant  ,items to  soften ,   to shine, to remove stains  and polish with – this list can go on .

While trying to adjust the items into the, ‘by now over flowing trolley’, you have to side step the person who goes around in the cleaning vehicle, mopping up the area. Somehow, I have always fancied his job. It is so cool and stress free!

How can one visit a super/ hypermarket and not buy meat, fish or chicken, or all three? That done , we head for the teller.( That reminds me – I must cut down on red meat )

By now, the poor loaves of bread are squashed out of shape by now and so I retrieve them & go and change them for fresh ones! I feel guilty but it is no fun eating squashed bread.

The queues are long- I try, and gauge as to which one is moving the fastest. Murphy’s Law often beats me now and the queue I choose seems to go on forever. I look around – there are three gleaming counters, which say 10 items or less  – no one there – can’t they help? No, they will not.  

 

And then I am number two in the line and just when I imagine myself reading the newspapers at home while sipping hot tea ,  things come to a standstill as the lady before me has an item which she either has not had weighed or which does not scan properly . She seems in no hurry and begins reading the magazine on the stand before her. Now the cashier has to call the supervisor so she waves and calls and at times switches on a red light, which blinks.

That sorted, the woman attempts to pay. It is just luck or is the whole world against me? Her card does not work, or else she has probably forgotten the pin. She rummages around for another card while simultaneously trying to pack her items into plastic bags.

Meanwhile I keep edging my items closer to the cashier to quicken the process. Back to the woman and the plastic bags – most of which seem glued together and refuse to open. She struggles until the friendly cashier assists her while I grind my teeth in exasperation.

I always keep an eye on the person behind me because on more than one occasion I have had the back of my ankles banged with a trolley pushed by either an incorrigible child or a silly adult on his or her phone . It is painful indeed and a casual sorry does not make it any better

The contents of my trolley are now on the counter, I look around, and there is no signs of the wife. I am confused, not knowing whether to push my items forward, keep an eye on the woman billing me, push the trolley forward, be careful of my ankles  or start packing the billed items.  I too hope my card works and that I remember the pin! That can be embarrassing.

Then the Mrs. arrives with some more items, yes you guessed it right – some of which need to be weighed. By now the people behind us are getting fed up and some have changed queues.

Finally, it is all done and dusted. Bill paid - items in the trolley. The receipt is so long that the cashier puts in about five folds while handing it to me. She says, ‘please shop again’ and I cringe .

I have no will to check  the bill  and feel  rather worn out . I then realize that I wanted another newspaper but going back was like a nightmare – I could not risk it, lest my wife decided she needed a few more items.

Planning to purchase bread and milk from a hypermarket anyone?

Think again!

Those are truly nasty items indeed.