Give me my Cornettos! |
If your stuff all has barcodes on then it's not too bad, although sometimes it just refuses to read the code so you're swaying a tin of beans back and forth like a rummy sailor trying to start a sea shanty. And if you've got anything crazy like loose potatoes then it turns into a really cruddy version of The Crystal Maze as you try to find the nearest approximation to what you're holding on their bizarre computer menu while a harrumph of waiting shoppers give you the stink-eye.
But that's not the main problem, it's getting the stuff into the bag without being shouted at by the horrible, prissy voice they've detailed to shame people into paying for the plum they've tried to sneak through.
I had to give up because the whole thing was getting too much. I picked up my beans and cornettos (that's two items, you've not missed an incredible fusion) and spluttered at one of the assistants who patrol the area, 'you should have more staff on and less of this... rubbish' while gesturing wildly at the crowd, each huddled with grim determination over their own machine, wildness in their eyes like kids who'd cracked the eternal-free-credits code on Defender. The assistant blinked at me before turning to aid an old war hero who was struggling to accept that his CurlyWurly remained resolutely 'unidentified'. I dumped my stuff and disappeared into the night, beaten but not mortally so. I shall return...
if purchasing alcohol do not, i repeat, do not, go to the self-service tills to pay for them. endless hours have been spent waiting for one of the assistants to come over and tell the machine that i am indeed over 18. although i am always a bit peeved when they just type in "yes, an old person here" before asking me if i am over 18. swines.
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