Mr Grumpy

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By Mr Grumpy - Fri 6th Jan 2012

 

If there is one thing that fills me with dread, as it did when we lived in the UK, it is the yearly pilgrimage to spend a full day at a shopping-centre which shall not be named.

Let’s just say that this particular Scandinavian store is generally situated on the outskirts of most major cities throughout Europe, and has a corporate colour scheme similar to an ‘Oirish’ airline that employs similar business ethics : Showing a total disregard and lack of respect for your customers.

The last time the dreaded excursion was forced upon we must have circumvented the car park at least a dozen times before abandoning the car about a mile away to walk to the store. On actually reaching the front entrance we had to queue to get in. Honestly, there was a team of Blue and Yellow clad bouncers on the door that looked about as butch as Graham Norton at a Mardi Gras, telling people that the store was full and that they were enforcing a ‘one in, one out’ policy !

Honestly, I’m there with a pocket full of cash (despite ‘El Creesis’) and they are doing all they can to discourage me from getting through the door.

Fortunately / Unfortunately (depending how you look at it) We live about 3 hours away, so the last thing I want to do is go away and try again another day, so we stuck it out.

30 mins later we were given the enormous honour of being allowed into the store to spend our hard earned cash there, but our daughter was feeling the effects of boredom after being forced to queue up like a refugee waiting for a cupful of rice.

So the first thing we did was check her into the play gym thing to let her blow off a bit of steam whilst we wandered around the store to look for these things that we apparently needed.

Now if there are five things that hack me off about this store it is these :

1.) Which Nazi decided that I had to follow a certain route around the store like a mouse in a maze ? Which Fascist decided to put choke points on every corner where I would be encouraged to pick up a catalogue and a 2” long blunt pencil, whilst trying to squeeze past Grannies with weirdly shaped shopping trolleys ?

2.) What is this fascination with rugs, lamps, Candles, Pot Pourri and cushions? - Maybe it’s a woman thing, but have you ever heard a (Heterosexual) man ever declare that ‘There isn’t enough cushions in here’, or ask ‘Shall I light another candle?’... ?

3.) Shoddily made doesn’t do the description of most of their furniture justice. Unless you only intend whatever it is that you bought to last 2 years at most, you will be disappointed. Every time the wind blows the compressed fibreboard swells and splits or the screws rattle loose in their holes. I’d prefer to pay a few extra quid and buy some proper furniture that I didn’t have to make myself from the contents of a Christmas cracker.

Either way,I Know Everything’s Awful (... that Grammar School education wasn’t wasted...)

4.) Honestly, what is it about the names ? I get the idea that they are trying to be ‘European’ and all that, but calling something as mundane as a Bookshelf ‘Spunk’, or a coffee table ‘Ploppy’ doesn’t really sell it to me.

5.) The ‘marketplace’ : even as a hardened cynic I get suckered into buying crap that I don’t want or need : Light bulbs, Batteries, Tea-Lights, Cutlery, Interesting Kitchen Utensils.... all which I would never have thought about buying elsewhere and if, for no other reasons, than because I have an empty basket.

But the thing that really pushed me over the edge were the jobsworths manning the highly dangerous and demanding position of watching over the play-gym.

On palming your offspring off on the unsuspecting attendant you are normally given a 45 minute ticket in exchange for 1 Euro. Quite reasonable. However, the store is laid out in such a fashion that it is impossible to get all the way round and pay for your goods in time to collect your child at the agreed time.

So being the generous soul that I am, I volunteered to forego ‘the Marketplace’ and spend the 15 mins following the yellow line zig-zagging back through the store against the tide of people walking in the opposite direction, to collect my daughter.

I got to the desk and pointed to my daughter, but as my other half had actually signed the indemnity form, the jobsworth would not let my daughter leave – despite that she was clinging to my leg asking me to buy her a Swedish hot dog. I showed Sr Jobsworth my driving licence and passport, proving how my name and address matched that of both my OH and my daughter. Still they would not let her leave in my possession.

So I tried to call the OH on her mobile but, for the love of sweet baby Jesus, the store is so vast that it is impossible to get a signal so far inside and away from the real world !

So I had to spend another 15 mins walking back along the yellow zig-zaggy line to find the Mrs deep in contemplation in a major pot-pourri decision, to tell her that she had to go all the way back to collect our daughter. Which naturally, I got the blame for.

So finally we got to the check out, to pay for the vast array of goods that we had travelled 2 hours to get to, 30 mins queuing to get to see, 30 mins with childcare issues, only to be told that there was an estimated wait of 30 mins at the Cash desks due to the volume of shoppers compared to the shortage of cashiers. (Shortage of Cashiers? – With a 23% rate of Unemployment in Spain ?)

I can’t for the life in me think why we only make it a once in a year event.