The tantrum the child was throwing in the confectionery aisle was so spectacular that I just had to stop and watch. I offered his mother to buy her son whatever he was after if I could film the meltdown. She told me to fuck off and wouldn’t let me explain what viral meant.
In the tinned food section, I pocketed a tin of anchovies. It’s become a bad habit recently especially as I don’t like fish. I astounded myself by nicking a jar of Bovril as well. I wondered where this could be leading.
I got what I really came in for and went to the busy checkouts.
I held the carton of semi-skimmed to my chest and cleared my throat. She wanted her moment of power and milked it. She carried on loading her weekly shop onto the belt. When she had finished, she asked the bleeding obvious.
” Is that all you have love?”
To her dismay and my satisfaction, I refused her offer to queue jump.
The alarm went off as I was leaving. Had they tagged the Bovril? Security came over and I decided to throw my own tantrum. As I was screaming on the floor that I would bring all the 124 tins of anchovies back, I became aware of the confetti and applause. The store manager helped me to my feet and congratulated me on being their millionth customer. I was given a £500 voucher and a filthy look from weekly shop lady.
Same story cut down to 101 words.
The tantrum the child was throwing in the confectionery aisle was spectacular. His mother refused to let me film it and threw a bag of toffees at me which split and scattered, much to her son’s delight. Pocketing a few I left commotion. With just my razors at the checkout, grumpy lady begrudgingly let me hop in front. The supermarket manager stopped me at the doors. I said I was sorry and handed him the sweets. Looking puzzled he congratulated me for being the five thousandth customer of the week. I got a store voucher and filthy look from Mrs Grump.