Ways to annoy me … 1,2,3

I’ve just returned from a quick trip to Asda.  Before I go any further with this tale, I should perhaps mention that I am tired, full of cold, almost 31 weeks pregnant, and prone to the odd bout of grumpiness.

With this in mind, and in view of my recent visit to said supermarket, I have composed this list of ten things checkout operators might wish to avoid in order not annoy the hell out of me.  A checklist, if you will.

1. Insisting that loose fruit and veg needs to be put into a little plastic bag, after you’ve weighed them and before they can be put in my carrier bag.  They don’t.

2. Insisting that the joint of meat in its heat-sealed packaging needs to be put into a little plastic bag before it can go in my carrier bag.  It doesn’t.

3.  Insisting that the tub of ice cream needs to go into a little plastic bag (can you sense a theme here?) before it can go in my carrier bag.  It doesn’t.  The silly little plastic bag is not insulated and will therefore serve no purpose whatsoever in this case.  In addition, neither my bag nor anything in it will suffer for having come into contact with the ice cream tub.

4. Trying to prevent me from putting the ice cream in my bag before it has been put in a little plastic bag by holding the tub firmly, and giving me a meaningful look.

5. Throwing away the unused plastic bags that I have refused to use, therefore causing the waste I was trying to avoid, but in a far more annoying fashion.

6. Asking if I am pregnant, as if the huge bump in front of me is entirely invisible.

7.  Telling me not to give birth at your checkout.

8.  Having discovered (having asked, as if it were any of your business) that I have nine weeks left to go, telling me that I am enormous.  Cheers for that.  I hadn’t noticed before you informed me of this.

9. Pretending that we are now BFF (we’re not) and asking lots of questions, such as the gender of the baby and what names we’ve decided on, whilst I try to avoid giving the answers to these questions to a (very rude) complete stranger without actually having to tell you to mind your own, and the queue behind me huffs and puffs at being kept waiting.  Give me my receipt and let me escape!

10. Raising your eyebrows at me as if I am the rude one in this whole scenario.

Hard to believe that one person managed to do all of these things in the time it took to scan three bags worth of shopping, but she did.  I thought I had struck gold, having found the only checkout without a queue, but now of course I realise that everyone else was just carefully avoiding the rude woman.


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