Stop thief!
13 August 2006 19:23![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mandragoraWent off to Sainsbury's to do the weekly food shop this morning. It was pouring with rain, so I grabbed a trolley from the nearest trolley-drop in the car park and ran for the entrance. Sometimes there can be a bit of a shortage of trolleys if the lads on trolley duty have been a bit slow in recovering them from the various trolley-drops, but not today. Today there were trolley's everywhere, as many trolleys as you could want, trolleys frollicking in the car park and nestling by the entrance, gleaming trolleys sparkling with rain drops, or dryly stacked by the entrance. Suffice it to say, anyone who wanted a trolley could have one, or several, or as many as they wanted. For, behold, there were loads of trolleys. *important plot point*
I'd made it as far as just past the entrance and up to the magazines with my pristine, empty, as yet untouched by potential purchases trolley when a stocky little man yelled at me, "Stop! You've got our trolley."
*Blink-blink, blink-blink*
As I stood there, expression akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he came up to me and, gaping scowl plastered across his face, grabbed at my trolley, which was still clutched in my, frankly, boggling hands.
"I think you'll find," he began grimly, flicking over a small, Sainsbury's leaflet that was decorating the bottom of the trolley, "that you've got-- Oh, no. Sorry," mumbled in a small, sheepish voice. And he bustled off, leaving me to catch the bemused gaze of a couple of fellow shoppers.
"Shocking," the man commented.
"That's right," the woman next to him agreed, "fancy taking a trolley that's left out for everyone to use--"
"And not realising that it's got his name on it," the man finished smartly, gazing at my wordless, smartly stainless steel trolley.
And then we all cracked up.
Later, in the check-out queue the man queueing at the till next to mine inadvertantly bumped my (by now full) trolley with his. "Oh, sorry," he said automatically, and then, obviously recognising me, with delight, "It's the trolley napper!" And then to his male friend, "Better watch this one, she takes empty trolleys, you know, for her own use!"
I'd made it as far as just past the entrance and up to the magazines with my pristine, empty, as yet untouched by potential purchases trolley when a stocky little man yelled at me, "Stop! You've got our trolley."
*Blink-blink, blink-blink*
As I stood there, expression akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he came up to me and, gaping scowl plastered across his face, grabbed at my trolley, which was still clutched in my, frankly, boggling hands.
"I think you'll find," he began grimly, flicking over a small, Sainsbury's leaflet that was decorating the bottom of the trolley, "that you've got-- Oh, no. Sorry," mumbled in a small, sheepish voice. And he bustled off, leaving me to catch the bemused gaze of a couple of fellow shoppers.
"Shocking," the man commented.
"That's right," the woman next to him agreed, "fancy taking a trolley that's left out for everyone to use--"
"And not realising that it's got his name on it," the man finished smartly, gazing at my wordless, smartly stainless steel trolley.
And then we all cracked up.
Later, in the check-out queue the man queueing at the till next to mine inadvertantly bumped my (by now full) trolley with his. "Oh, sorry," he said automatically, and then, obviously recognising me, with delight, "It's the trolley napper!" And then to his male friend, "Better watch this one, she takes empty trolleys, you know, for her own use!"
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Date: 16 August 2006 20:28 (UTC)