At the checkout they asked if I wanted insurance - some sort of extended guarantee 'just in case the chair breaks' they said. I declined. Did they know whom I was getting it for? They then tried to foist a store card on me. Also declined. I was waiting for them to ask for my email address which is the most recent way to squeeze you dry of your personal details, but by that time I had swivelled my way out of the swing doors. My inside leg measurement was safe for another week.
On the way home, chair and phone safely tucked up, I stopped at the local mini-supermarket to buy toilet paper. Yes, I'm not afraid to admit that those that frequent the small room in chez Al are not blue blooded. Well that's the commoners, at least: Aggie claims to be descended from Cauldwell of that Ilk from the 17th Century. I checked this. Apart from missing 150 years of evidence, it could well be true. I think, however, she goes too far with her tiara, white gloves and sedan chair. I digress.
The till operator asked if I wanted a bag for the bog roll, which was already in a bag. I said 'why not?'. They asked if I had a store card. I advised not. They asked if I wanted one. I declined. They then gave me my change and sent me on my way saying 'Enjoy'. I mean...eh? its toilet paper, not caviar?
|...look at the verge on that..|