In the Spermarket
If you type "Supermarket" wrongly, as I just did in the title of this post, you create a new and interesting word with whole possibilities of meaning.
But that's not important right now.
There I was today, in the supermarket known forever to us as Smelly Aisle. Our local Sainsbury's was extensively refurbished a couple of years back and one of the aisles, for several weeks, had the sickening stench of death and decay about it. Nobody ever explained why but I think one of the builders was never seen again.
Today it was Screaming Children Day in Sainsbury's and any parents with children who wanted to scream non-stop whilst running round aimlessly had been invited to bring them to Sainsbury's for the afternoon.
Well, so it seemed, anyway. As I piled my shopping onto the belt and then packed it, two boys aged about six and eight were doing a particularly good job of Aimless Running coupled with Piercing Screaming, with a bit of Bumping Into Customers added for good measure. I feel I should mention, in passing, that they were both wearing Manchester United shirts.
Their parents seemed totally oblivious to all this screaming and running and were just getting on with sorting out their own shopping.
I was almost finished packing, and just getting to the point of letting my Inner Schoolmarm emerge and say something to the parents, when my attention was diverted by my mobile ringing. It was Overly Friendly Cold-Calling Saleswoman. Lovely!
"Hello, Daphne, and may I ask how you are this afternoon?"
"And may I ask why you're calling me?"
"Because you've been specially selected for a make-over and pampering session at - - -"
"Why? What's wrong with me?"
"Pardon?"
"You think I need a make-over, so something must be wrong with me."
"Errrrr - - "
"Actually, the thought of a session like that fills me with more horror than I believe you can begin to imagine. Goodbye."
(It's true. I can't bear the thought. I may indeed need a makeover but I sure as hell am never going to have one.)
By now the Screaming Boys had gone, so at least the phone call diverted me from them.
This is just advance warning really, that when I'm In Charge all cold-calling will be banned, and anyone caught doing it will be cold-called by jolly salespeople, every hour, on the hour, day and night for a month. And any parents who permit their children to scream in supermarkets will be locked in a room with the sound of this screaming, piped at maximum volume, for as long as I see fit.
Thank you for listening. I feel a bit better now.
But that's not important right now.
There I was today, in the supermarket known forever to us as Smelly Aisle. Our local Sainsbury's was extensively refurbished a couple of years back and one of the aisles, for several weeks, had the sickening stench of death and decay about it. Nobody ever explained why but I think one of the builders was never seen again.
Today it was Screaming Children Day in Sainsbury's and any parents with children who wanted to scream non-stop whilst running round aimlessly had been invited to bring them to Sainsbury's for the afternoon.
Well, so it seemed, anyway. As I piled my shopping onto the belt and then packed it, two boys aged about six and eight were doing a particularly good job of Aimless Running coupled with Piercing Screaming, with a bit of Bumping Into Customers added for good measure. I feel I should mention, in passing, that they were both wearing Manchester United shirts.
Their parents seemed totally oblivious to all this screaming and running and were just getting on with sorting out their own shopping.
I was almost finished packing, and just getting to the point of letting my Inner Schoolmarm emerge and say something to the parents, when my attention was diverted by my mobile ringing. It was Overly Friendly Cold-Calling Saleswoman. Lovely!
"Hello, Daphne, and may I ask how you are this afternoon?"
"And may I ask why you're calling me?"
"Because you've been specially selected for a make-over and pampering session at - - -"
"Why? What's wrong with me?"
"Pardon?"
"You think I need a make-over, so something must be wrong with me."
"Errrrr - - "
"Actually, the thought of a session like that fills me with more horror than I believe you can begin to imagine. Goodbye."
(It's true. I can't bear the thought. I may indeed need a makeover but I sure as hell am never going to have one.)
By now the Screaming Boys had gone, so at least the phone call diverted me from them.
This is just advance warning really, that when I'm In Charge all cold-calling will be banned, and anyone caught doing it will be cold-called by jolly salespeople, every hour, on the hour, day and night for a month. And any parents who permit their children to scream in supermarkets will be locked in a room with the sound of this screaming, piped at maximum volume, for as long as I see fit.
Thank you for listening. I feel a bit better now.
posted by Daphne at 6:11 pm
4 Comments:
My sympathies.
After I retired from the corporate world and stayed at home, I watched a lot of daytime television. Each and every morning "infotainment" program, it seemed, included a makeover of an absolutely thrilled female segment, a low-fat recipe/putting romance back into your cooking segment, a new exercises for your tummy and thighs segment, and a great new fashions for fall segment, featuring amazingly thin celebrity guest hosts with gleaming white smiles.
I turned to the computer in an effort to escape the world of the self-absorbed. My sanity is intact.
I recommend "Caller ID" (the British version) for your telephone so that you can ignore the hawkers.
I also hate cold calls, particularly on my mobile (I registered my landline number with the Telephone Preference Service so very rarely get cold calls on that phone).
However, I must confess to having a tiny bit of sympathy for the cold callers themselves. Many of them are out of work actors and I always thank my lucky stars I've never resorted to that sort of work myself. I certainly wouldn't want to be one when you're In Charge.
...Ironically, just as I put the full stop on that last sentence I got a call. On my home phone. From American Express (I do have an American Express card so it wasn't entirely a cold call). The first thing the caller said was 'How are you today?' I nearly replied 'None of your business but I was much better until you called'. I didn't but did warn him about what will happen to him when Daphne is In Charge.
Noticing the screaming children is supposed to be the first stage of getting old!
But on the subject of cold call phoning.. I am with you all the way.
I once came down off a stepladder, with a wet paintbrush to answer the phone....the air around the phone was a blue haze for hours!
Were you always so tolerant Daphne? Actually, when you are in charge may I be responsible for ensuring that whenever there are roadworks on motorways, drivers will always see men working. I would also like to take charge of punishing anybody found guilty of queue jumping in pubs. The idea of medieval stocks and rotten tomatoes springs to mind.
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