Now the store with a great selection and great prices is about seven miles away and a pain to get to. The store is large with too narrow aisles and extra displays and clutter in them. So you have all these people with extra large shopping carts trying to get past each other like cars on a narrow street. People actually cede their right of way.
First up, some beer. When I didn't see a case of what I was looking for, I asked the stock girl who was in that aisle if they had it. No. Okay. I then look in the cooler that is maybe ten feet away and what do I see...just what I was looking for. Strike one.
If you are buying a case of wine or champagne, they need to bring it out to you. So I corner a salesman/snob, tell him what I want and he looked at me in pure disgust. Really, you want that? It's dreadful. Yes, he said a product his store was selling was dreadful. And he was British, so it really sounded...dreadful. Now I admit I was off my game because normally I would have let him have it. But I just said, yes, it is dreadful but my mother likes it and would you please get it for me. Strike two.
As I wait at customer service for the case, another salesman comes over and asks if I need anything. No, I'm waiting for a case. What are you waiting for? I tell him and he gives me the look. Well, how about trying... Now I'm getting pissed but just want to get out so I say no thanks. And I wait. Apparently all the stock clerks in the cellar are on lunch. And I wait.
Finally, I get the case and go to the register where I tell the woman I will pay for my order and my mother's order separately. Fine, she says. Then proceeds to scan it all together. Not ten seconds later. Strike three.
Needless to say, I was very happy that I came home with alcohol.
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