Supermarket shopping

This morning we went to the Supermarket. Now that seems like a very ordinary domestic task, but in France it is regarded with seriousness. Food is looked at, and prodded before purchase, and on arrival at the cash desk, it is an obligation to discuss your purchases with your many friends, and family, who are in the same queue. Despite the fact that the queue had moved forward, and people at the rear were being held up.

This morning we were standing behind a young woman who, having put all her purchases through the caisse, suddenly remembered that she also wanted a bottle of Martini, but of course it was in the glass security case a short distance away. Locked, against those, that would like a bottle free of charge or at least a few sips.

Because of the long queue, we assumed that the young woman would have paid for her already purchased items, and stand aside, until a member of staff could unlock the display case without inconvenience to others, but no!

The Manager of the store was busy at the rear of the supermarket, because that morning, he had received a fresh delivery of merchandise, and was busy reloading the shelves. So the cashier had to close down the till, and disappear off, to ask him to unlock the case, only to discover that the Martini formed no part of the high value alcohol display, and was in fact, on open view, on the shelves, halfway through the store.

The young woman duly walked off at mediterranean pace, to find her tipple, and upon returning to the caisse realised that the cashier had, in error, calculated all the items on one receipt, when in fact the young woman was shopping for herself, plus two other people, and that their bill needed to be separated, in order to obtain remboursement.

Having separated the items over three till receipts, and before paying, the young lady enquired of the cashier if she had seen the television last night, and asked her opinion of the dress, worn by a celebrity in one of the emmissions, all this, whilst standing with her bank card in hand, but no attempt at making the final payment. The discussion then turned to their children’s teacher, and how well the infants were absorbing their studies. Some ten minutes had passed since we had arrived in the penultimate position at the cash desk, and still, there was no movement towards us gaining that prized spot, when the cashier wished us, Bonjour!

Then suddenly, the card was inserted in the bank card machine and the secret code typed in. The Cash register coughed, and then appeared to stall, our excitement at moving forward, suddenly seemed premature, then another cough, followed by a long stream of till receipt being shot out of the slot. The receipt now had to be separated, and examined, in order that the young woman could write down the name of the respective clients, in case they could not be deciphered at a later moment, but at least this must be the final phase of the purchase, until we heard that famous French phrase that spells doom, merde alors. The discount that was advertised in the publicity had not been deducted. “Fetch the Manager”

The Manager, not pleased to have been taken away from his tasks at the rear of the supermarket, duly arrived, and the three of them, client, cashier and manager set to, and examined ALL the prices, to finally realise that the discount price that was being claimed, was in fact, for an item on the previous week’s publicity, and that it was now priced at its true level.

Ah! at last, we could move forward, and take our rightful place at the front of the queue, but wait, the area where the purchased items slide into, after passing the price scanner, was full.

The young woman's purchases, were blocking our way, and there was she, standing to one side, having received a call on her mobile phone. With no urgency, she discussed with the caller the upcoming visit to the family on Sunday, with a query, "should she supply the desert", and if so would she purchase it from the pattissiere in the village. “No, not the one in le Grand Place, the one next to the Bank” unless of course the caller felt it better, to get it in advance, from the pattissiere in the Boulevard of the next village. “Ok, ciou”

At last, she must start taking her shopping, but no, the bank card, had to be put in her wallet, but where was it? The next few minutes was spent, looking in her bag. Then to the relief of everyone, it was found, in the pocket of her coat. The Bank card was now diligently put away in its correct place, and the wallet placed in her hand bag, ensuring that all zips were closed.

Now the shopping!

Everything had its place, wine in that bag, and cheese in the other, do you have a plastic bag for the meat, in case it leaks. “Oh I forgot, you don’t have plastic bags now. Perhaps I can take the wrapping off that old carton over there?”……………

In the meanwhile, I was amazed to see, that the several people behind us, were heavily engaged in discussing, the dress worn by the celebrity on the television the previous evening, or the weather, or the state of the French football team. Was it just me, that was impatient. Was it wrong that I considered our extended delay at the cash desk, an inconvenience. Should we have, started a new thread in the discussion, and allowed our blood pressure to flow along at a normal rate? Is this the secret of long living in southern Europe. Perhaps it has nothing at all to do with the Mediterranean diet. On our next visit to the Doctor, we can discuss this theory, but only if it does not delay the person waiting for the next consultation!!