Almost nine years old…
This time of year seems to come around too quickly. It is mere hours until this blog enters its ninth year, and as you’ve probably realised over these years, it’s also the time of year when I post the least. This is a combination of being insanely busy at Employment Palace, and the fact that nothing ever seems to happen in October. Ever.
But, it’s November now, and exactly a month before the conclusion of the “Before I’m 30″ section of the site. Ugh. Something did happen a couple of weeks ago, which I personally couldn’t believe, and it happened in Asda… I started blogging about it, but didn’t finish it, because I was so filled with rage, that if I’d have gone any further with it, I’d have smashed something…
I’ve truly had it with Asda. Today was the last straw, and I shall never step foot through the doors of their sorry organisation as long as I draw breath.
Would you believe, that… that…. I can’t even bear to type these words….
I got KNOCKED BACK. You know, that sinking feeling when you’re 17, and although you’ve grown enough stubble to fill an armchair, the woman behind the counter looks at you and says “Have you got any ID”?
I’m less than 2 months short of my 30th birthday, and for the first time in my life, I get asked the dreaded question…
“Do you have any ID?”
At the minute, I do have enough stubble to make someone’s bed very uncomfortable, should the whiskers be removed and spread evenly upon it, but that’s not the point. I don’t look (or feel) 25, and I’m certainly above the legal age of 18.
I look at her with a wry smile.
“Er, no. I’m 29. Why would I need ID”?
“Well, I don’t know you’re 29. We operate a ‘challenge 25′ policy, so I need something to prove your age. So, if you don’t have that, I’ll just have to move your beer to one side…”
I thought she was joking. Ohhhh, no. Off my beers go, my jaw dragging along the conveyor belt along with the rest of my shopping. No matter what I said, those beers weren’t going anywhere. Her attitude was absolutely shocking. Her words were something like “You can go back round and set served by someone else, but you won’t get those beers through me”.
The stubborn old mule stuck her hooves into the ground, and I’m left, stocked, stunned and dismayed by the whole incident.
I wheel the infinitely wobbly trolley out of the door, and load the non-alcoholic shopping into the car.
“Would you believe it. For the first time in almost 30 years they’ve refused to serve me alcohol”. He laughs, and couldn’t believe it either. Obviously, there was one solution. He’d go in and buy the beers for me. Everyone’s a winner!
I walk, or rather angrily strut up to this…. “assistant”, with her bleached-blonde hair and make-up clagged on with a trowel. My 8 cans are still to the side of her till.
“Ah, came back with ID this time, have we?” were her sarcastic words.
“No, I’m not buying them, my dad, Who IS SIXTY-[SOMETHING], is buying them”
“Well, I’m not going to serve him either because I know he’s going to give them to you”…
That’s where I stopped typing! Needless to say, I walked out without the beer, and . Quite unbelievably, for anyone who knows me, I have stayed out of Asda since that incident, and now, I can’t see any reason to ever go back.
There WAS one reason. It was the only place I knew which stocked “Tymbark”. Now, I’ll not be surprised if you’ve never heard of it, as it’s Polish. That’s Polish, as in, it originates from Poland, and not the cleaning product. My dietary habits, no matter how bad they are, have yet to see me consuming Mr. Sheen. It is a fantastic blend of cherry and apple juice, which was stocked in Asda’s “Ethnic” aisle.
Whilst in Tesco the other day, I was delighted to find that they also stocked the very same product! Therefore, I officially have no reason to ever stagger through the doors of Asda again!
Right. Erm, that’s the first thing. I’ve actually forgotten the reason why I was going to write this post.
November 2nd, 2009 at 11:24:28 pm
Is it wrong that I still think the ASDA thing is funny?
November 2nd, 2009 at 11:27:46 pm
Probably not :) I’m over wanting the checkout “assistant” to die in a house fire. I’d just like her to get toothache for a bit.
November 6th, 2009 at 3:00:08 am
Did you get her name? I’d like to send her a thank you card and maybe a small gift for making me laugh so hard. That said, rather than spit out your dummy and brood over it, you should’ve complained to the store manager about it, especially when she refused to serve your Dad. Sounds like this little Hitler could do with being told off/embarassed a bit.
I went in Asda while I was home and noticed that they security tag all their booze, bottle by bottle- even the beer. Says a lot about some people in Hartlepool………………….
November 6th, 2009 at 3:43:44 am
Can’t say I’ve ever noticed the security tagged beer, though yeah, they do tag the sprits. I don’t know if that’s something they do around the country.
As for writing the complaint letter, I did actually write one, but realised the futility of it, and the unlikeliness of any action being taken against our new best friend, that I didn’t bother wasting a stamp on it!
EDIT: Yes, I did get her name, and handily her emploee number was also printed on the receipt too. I placed that in the non-sent letter too.
November 6th, 2009 at 6:34:44 am
Mate,
Send it and then you’ll have, forgive me, closure (I hate using Americanisms.) Maybe they will do nothing, maybe her boss will have a word with this woman about her attitude and she’ll buck up a bit. who knows?
November 6th, 2009 at 5:24:09 pm
I wouldn’t bother. Under 25 and the not serving adults with alcohol if they believe it’s for someone else are both ASDA policies.
November 6th, 2009 at 6:17:28 pm
[...] Scribbler’s Laid A Big Juicy Log is almost nine years old. [...]
November 10th, 2009 at 3:37:02 am
“I wouldn’t bother. Under 25 and the not serving adults with alcohol if they believe it’s for someone else are both ASDA policies.”
Yeah, you provided us all with a great laugh and are still suffering (unable to enter Asda, ha ha.) Keep up the good work!
December 15th, 2009 at 11:33:54 pm
[...] Unfortunately, the first time I heard this song, I was in the less glamorous location of the Asda car park. This was obviously before the incident. [...]