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This is a question Shops and Supermarkets

I used to work in a supermarket where the girl on the deli counter cut off the top of her finger in the meat slicer, but was made to finish her shift before going to hospital. You can now pay £100 to shoot zombies in the store's empty shell, haunted by poor dead nine-finger deli girl. Tell us your tales of the old retail experience, from either side of the counter

(, Thu 10 May 2012, 13:50)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

not funny, but something that pissed me off...
I popped into my then local ASDA, and made for the DVD section as I usually did before I started my shopping.

There, in the entertainment department, was an eight year old (or thereabouts) kicking a miniature football at the racks of movies. Inevitably a few fell to the floor. His mother, well dressed and spoken, simply said in a sweet voice "oh don't do that darling". It wasn’t like she was preoccupied with something - she was simply waiting for an assistant to return with a product.

The child eventually stopped, leaving the ball to roll down the aisle. He smirked, and proceeded to boot about one of the DVDs he had managed to dislodge from the shelf. His mother barely acknowledged his actions before he got bored and followed her out of the section once the assistant had returned.

It really fucked me off to think she couldn't stop her child from being so destructive. It annoyed me to think no member of staff would intervene, and I'm somewhat embarrassed that I'm typing this out, all high on my horse, and yet at the time I didn't have the balls to say "Excuse me, could you please discipline your pet chubacabra?"

Still, I feel better for moaning about it!
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 16:00, Reply)
Shop security fail.
Many years ago One of our customers had a problem with one of their Cash registers so one of our engineers was sent out to replace it. When he returned and deposited the device on my desk I ran a few diagnostics which resulted in the cash drawer pinging open.

Revealing a drawfull of cash.

When I summoned the engineer to witness this he looked a bit sheepish and declared,"I did wonder why they looked a bit anxious when I walked out."
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 15:14, 4 replies)
mix n' match
weirdest thing i ever saw in a supermarket was when i was buying peach mousse. on the shelf next to the mousse was a selection of muller fruit corners, one of which had had the foil cover removed and cocktail sausages arranged in it, their tops poking out in a nice little pattern.
i have no idea why someone would do this and wonder at the thought processes behind it, but it did make me chuckle.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 15:04, 2 replies)
For those who remember where it all started for Dale Winton
Still haven't worked out why Dale (upon revealing a £25 sticker on the inflatable banana etc) would say "Twenty Five Pounds! Good!" because at that point £25 was the worst case scenario. £100 or £75 revealed would have been "good!" and £50 was OK. £25 revealed at that point was not "good" it was the WORST THING AT THAT TIME. What a knob.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 15:03, 1 reply)
In asda I saw a father lifting his 10-ish year old daughter up to put her on the shelf with the big boxes of beer on so she could pass one down to him.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 14:38, 1 reply)
Repost, but I used to work in asda in Newport many years ago
There used to be a family who came from the local estate. Fat as fuck they were. Dad, mum and fat little bastard child. The father had greasy quiffed Elvis hair and a huge belly covered in various food stains. The mother had huge blotchy purple vainy legs, a humongous gunt, pock marked face and greasy thinning hair. The kid was a right little pudding too. He was about 12 and rumoured to not be house trained. Anyway, to put it bluntly, they stunk of piss. Absolutely reeked of it. If they had been in the store, you could tell which aisles they had been down from the piss-stinking trail they had left. One day the woman slipped over on a wet floor. So they called a first-aider. My mate went over, but refused to pick her up cos of the over ripe stench of fetid urine coming from her. So she sued the company. They were affectionately named by the staff as The Piss-Family Robinson.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 13:13, 2 replies)
Where in the world….
My wife had just bought a new car, and so eager to take it for a spin, we decided to go and visit her grandparents and take them out to the local Harvester or wherever. Lunch with grandparents is always followed by a trip to Sainsburys, Homebase, or the garden centre – if you visit older relatives, you know the score.

No sooner had her granddad finished his fillet of salmon when he announced that he’d like to be driven over to PC World to buy a new keyboard. No problem, I don’t mind wandering around any computer store for a bit, and it’s nice to feel that you’re helping them out with something that they can’t normally do by bus. My wife and grandma looked in the shop next door, leaving me in PC World with my wife’s grandpa – so far so good…

Unfortunately, old Grandad’s salmon evidently didn’t agree with him, and no more than 5 minutes into the shop, he comes running down the aisle clenching his buttocks like Noah’s Ark had been fully loaded and the tempestuous floods were about to come over the hills and wipe out all humanity. Red-faced, he said something about needing a toilet right NOW… and I could see from his eyes that he wasn’t exaggerating. I stopped a passing staff member, explained that the old chap was not well & could we use the staff toilets etc. They shepherded him out the back through locked doors, but sadly it turns out that they weren’t fast enough. When he re-emerged 20 minutes later, it was evident that he’d removed and tried to wash his entire beige slacks under the tap, and was now 1) wearing soaking wet, shit-stained trousers, 2) making the whole shop smell like a sewage works that’d gone wrong and 3) being escorted out of the shop by a very pleasant (but also quite embarrassed) young PC World Saturday girl, leaving wet brown drips from his trouser legs as he went.

As we reached the car park – and my wife’s brand new car – we toyed with the idea of running in to the M&S to buy new trousers, but in the end, just wrapped him up with a blanket as if it was a sarong, plastered the back seats with loads of PC World deal leaflets, and headed home.

Poor old fella….. To make it worse for him, he got a massive bollocking from his wife the whole way home from the store. Even after steam cleaning the car’s upholstery it still has a musty, shitty smell. Can’t fault the staff in PC World though…
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 12:37, 3 replies)
oldie but a goodie...
Used to work in a sandwich shop back in the day. "Used to" being the operative words as I was fired one day for putting my old fella in the pickle slicer.

A pickle slicer you say - why on earth would anyone do that? What did they do with the slicer afterwards I hear you say?

She got fired also...
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 11:41, 2 replies)
I went into Waitrose to buy some nam pla.
I couldn't find any, so I asked the young assistant, and she didn't even know what it was. The stupid humanities student retard.

It just goes to show that all the students reading media studies or English at university should be lined up and shot.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 11:14, 8 replies)
Whilst working
In the computer games shop we had a young lad come in on a regular basis in the middle of the day usually during times when he really should have been at school. I felt sorry for the lad as he obviously didn't come from an affluent family. He never had any money and he was often disheveled and dirty and his clothes had seen better days. My sympathy for him was tempered somewhat by the fact that he stunk of stale piss all the time to the point where we used to follow him around with an air freshener spraying when he wasn't looking and also spraying thoroughly after he had left the shop. The nasty cloying ammonia smell was often so bad it even put off the regular customers, many of whom had less than a passing acquaintance with soap and to whom hygene was just a greeting.

I wanted to help but at the time i really didn't know how. I've often wondered what became of him as one day he just stopped turning up. I like to think that the poor kid got help and that someone sorted him out. The world being what it is i doubt it turned out that way.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 11:10, 1 reply)
I used to work in a supermarket that rhymes with Tesco
Got a few stories but this is the one that came to mind first.

I worked in produce but had a mate, who we'll call Mikey (as that's his name), who worked on the freezer aisle. We had one side of the aisle as the tall verticle freezers and one side with open flat ones.

One day I'm standing chatting to my mate while he's filling the flat ones and this kid and his mum are standing down the aisle a bit. The kid's climbing on the freezer and his mum keeps telling him to get off, eventually saying "if you don't get off there, the man will throw you out of the shop" pointing at my mate and smiles at him.

Being in a good mood, Mikey bends down and says to the kid "yeah stop climbing on that or I'll have to through you out"

The kid, who I should add was no more than 7 or 8, looks up at Mikey, still climbing on the freezer and responds: "fuck off ya cuntrag".

The mum grabs the kid and drags him off screaming at him and I nearly died laughing. Had to go for a sit down through the back after that
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 10:51, Reply)
MMPS reminded me.
3 words - Pallet Jack Racing.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 10:39, 7 replies)
Back when I was a student
I used to live right next to a 24hour ASDA (indeed the same one where this came from). This is a bad combination.
Still, there's something quite nice about doing your weekly/daily shop at 4am. It's peaceful and quiet - there's still people around, "normal" people as well. Even some old biddies for whatever reason, but there's no usual hustle and bustle that you normally get in a large supermarket.
This is also the time when they do the most shelf stacking, I guess it's easier doing it at night so its all ready for the next day. This particular evening, we found ourselves in the juice isle - you know the one, where all the cordials and cartons of "from concentrate" are. There was a clerk half way down the isle, busily stacking things and making them look neat. I lifted one of the cartons of "from concentrate" apple juice, spoiling the lovely neat row in the process. I thought nothing of it, at least until the clerk came rushing over rearrange the shelf and make it look neat again.
It was at that point, he turned around to me and held his box-cutting tool in a rather threatening manner, saying "If you do that again, I'll follow you out to the car park and FUCKING STAB YOU".

Well it is ASDA.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 9:46, 3 replies)
I duns both of these things.
Nightcrew in a supermarket was fun. Racing about the aisles on the pallet movers and making the one pound dinner allowance stretch to whatever the fuck you wanted cause you put it through the tills yourself, as was pissing around on the forklift.

Working in an off-licence wasn't as much fun. Back breaking deliveries which had to be carried by hand to the stock room upstairs. Neddy little fuckers wanting served who were clearly underage. Getting held up at knife-point. The worst though was the jakey old regulars who waited at the door every morning for the place to open. The sort of shaky emaciated old folks who bought either a large bottle of frosty jacks and a half of vodka or a large bottle of British cream sherry and a half bottle of whiskey. These sad old fucks would wander back in about three and get four cans of spesh or a half bottle of gin. I always felt bad serving them.

Oh, and mrs scratchit. So called cause she spent her whole time buying scratch cards. She could stand there for a fucking hour or two, buying 20 at a time and scratching away, annoying the fuck out of you by taking whatever she won in more scratchcards.

I feel sorry for these addicts but proves that it's not just kids that are fuckups, old cunts are just as bad. BROKEN BRITAIN!!
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 7:55, Reply)
Oh dear.
I think a lot of people can sympathise with the unhappy shift workers at the uncaring monoliths called supermarkets. If it makes you feel any better, Spazda took three years of my life. I feel for shop workers in these places. The worst bit is that I hate myself as a customer; I accidentally avoid eye contact, I forget where I've picked an unwanted item up so leave it on the self-scan machines, I have conversations with my boyfriend whilst we pack and forget the poor cashier even exists.

On the other hand, when you've been sat on a retro 90s Spazda till for three hours straight, serving Haribo and crisps to the morbidly obese it genuinely helps to turn your brain off. Many of my friends at the supermarket were either post or under-grad at uni; I can chat for hours about medieval literature or Dickens, but ask me where Spazda keep the rice flour and all I could manage was 'Try aisle four...? Think it's near the gluten free stuff.' My poor brain.

I work for an increasingly popular DIY chain these days as it's closer to home, and swapped serving sweets and fizzy drinks to arranging deliveries of tons of building sand. The team is smaller and my mind is less numbed (slightly), but the best thing? Not feeling responsible (in some small way) for the increasingly obese country I live in.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 5:52, 2 replies)
she probably thought it was funny...
One year I was so desperate for cash that I actually went and got a job during the summer break from university. I know, I’m a disgrace to all students, such a sell-out.

I joined the local supermarket crew and got placed in the dairy section. This meant I got a spiffy white trench coat and a dapper white hat. My responsibilities were i) take the milk delivery in the morning ii) put dairy products on shelves iii) re-price anything coming up to the sell by date.

One day whilst effecting iii), a nice woman came up to me and asked where the yoghurts could be found. I escorted her to the correct shelf space and I toddled back to the steaks that I was reducing to 10p and hiding away for later self-purchasing.

Caught in my dastardly mastermind musings I was again interrupted by the young yoghurt wanting woman. She had 2 types of yoghurt in her hands and asked if it was live yoghurt. I didn’t know the answer but ventured a reply: “Why, are you making a fruit salad?”

Her immediate response was: “No, I’ve got thrush and need live yoghurt.”

I stopped in my tracks and said I would check in the warehouse to see if anyone knew…which in translation meant: “If I don’t get behind the safety of those dangling PVC curtains -I’m going to actually wet myself with laughter.”

I went into the back of the warehouse, doubled over, let out a blustering raspberry of a laugh – complete with projectile spittle. I regained power over my bladder before returning to the woman and apologising for taking so long and not finding an answer.

She was clearly not impressed so I offered her a little bit of humour by saying: “Sorry for not knowing if it was live yoghurt or not - it’s all Greek to me”.

She didn't show it on her face but deep down I think she probably thought it was funny.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 4:32, Reply)
I used to work at the local One Stop at uni
They made me supervisor over all the local dweebs in a second because I could count and was capable of rational thought. I would work the late shift with one well meaning but hopeless simian helper. One of the brands of cigarillos ran a promotion where 1 in 5 ten packs had replaced one cigarillo with a £5 note instead (in those days you would have been up around £2 per pack after purchase). It happened to be the local mole man's brand and he would come in each night and eagerly purchase a pack. I would observe stony faced the child like excitement in his eyes as he eagerly tore off the wrapper, as if it were some kind of cancerous wonka bar expectant of finding a golden ticket, each night his disappointment would be crushing, "Better luck next time, mate" I would commiserate. Little did he know that as soon as the promotion started, I, being a penniless student and having the run of the shop, had taken all the stock of that brand out back and put the super accurate money scales to good use. Sure enough 1 in 5 packs were much lighter than the others, I put the other packs back, dumped around 20 packs of cigarillos in front of my dull chimp faced helper and paid for them, then proceeded to extract a £5 note from each pack right in front of her bemused face. For my sins, my spliffs were tainted with horrible cigarillo tabacco for many months that followed.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 2:26, 2 replies)
I worked in a charity shop
and had to sort through bags of clothes.

The number of times I would encounter shit streaked underpants or trousers with semen stains around the flies was soul-destroyingly depressing.


We also used to receive saucepans with food burnt indelibly into them, and other rubbish. The stuff you see in a charity shop is only the good stuff; 75% of all donations is given to the "rag man". Or chucked into the furnace.
(, Mon 14 May 2012, 0:49, Reply)
Thanks Kev!
On April 10, 1993, while working as a retail clerk at a local Quick Stop Market convenience store in Leonardo, New Jersey, I got called into work on my day off by my boss to cover a few hours for another employee who was sick. Arriving at the store, I found that the locks to the security shutters are jammed closed with chewing gum, so I hung a sheet over them with a message written in shoe polish: "I ASSURE YOU; WE'RE OPEN."

My day was spent in the purgatory of serving a succession of customers while bemoaning the fact that I was "not even supposed to be here today." Interspersed with the demands of my job, I passed time in wide-ranging conversations with my friend, Randal Graves. Randal works at the neighboring video store, although he spends almost the entire day at the Quick Stop. We conversed about many things to pass time, such as whether the contractors working on the second Death Star when it was destroyed at the end of Return of the Jedi were innocent victims or not. My current girlfriend, Veronica Loughran, also stopped in and the we talked about my current disposition—in a rut with no motivation to change. Further contributing to my misery was an announcement in the local newspaper that my unfaithful ex-girlfriend Caitlin Bree was engaged to be married.

Learning that I was stuck working the store all day, I convinced my friends to play hockey on the store roof. The game was short. 12 minutes in, an irate customer shoots their only ball off the roof and into a sewer. Reopening the store, I found out one of my ex-girlfriends has died and her memorial service was today. Randal talked me into closing the store again and going to the wake. The visit was disastrous, with Randal and I running out to escape in their car. Randal accidentally knocked over the casket by leaning on it.

That night Caitlin Bree surprised me with a visit. After she assures me that the engagement announcement was premature and arranged by her mother, we traded banter and I became torn between her and Veronica. I finally decided to take Caitlin on a date and slipped home to change. I returned to discover that Caitlin had sex with a dead man in the unlit bathroom, having mistaken the man for me (the man had earlier entered the bathroom with a pornographic magazine and had suffered a fatal heart attack while masturbating). An ambulance took Caitlin away in shock along with the corpse.

Jay and Silent Bob, a pair of stoners who have spent all day hanging out (and dealing marijuana) outside the Quick Stop, entered the store to shoplift. I turned down Jay’s offer to party with them. Knowing my predicament, Silent Bob pauses before following Jay outside and offers the following wisdom: "You know, there's a million fine-looking women in the world, dude. But they don't all bring you lasagna at work. Most of 'em just cheat on you." I then realized that I lovee Veronica. When she returned to the Quick Stop, though, Randal complicates things by revealing that I asked Caitlin out. Veronica angrily breaks up with me, telling me that Randal informed her of the planned date with Caitlin.

When Randal entered the Quick Stop after closing the RST video, I lost my temper and fought with him. After the fight, we lay on the floor worn out. I claimed that Randal does nothing for me but make my life miserable by getting me fined, offending my customers, and ruining my relationships. Randal explodes, saying that I deserved the blame: I, not Randal, closed the store to play hockey, closed it again to go to the wake, and closed it yet again to try to hook up with my ex-girlfriend, cheating on my current one in the process. He then says that I came to work of my own volition and overcompensates for having a monkey's job. He claims that I think he was more advanced than the customers and Randal storms off with "if we're so fucking advanced, what are we doing working here?" leaving me speechless on the floor.

We reconciled and I said I will try to talk to Veronica and visit Caitlin and possibly get some direction in my life. Randal walked out of the store, popped back in briefly to toss my sign at me stating, "You're closed!"
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 23:57, 7 replies)
petrol station shinanigans...
I used to work in a petrol station just outside York.... One night shift i was working with my mate Joe when I authorised a guy with an astra van to use the diesel pump..... A few minutes later i looked at the till which showed he'd put about 40 litres in it.... on it went 50, 60 , 70 , I shouted joe over saying "look how much diesels going in this van"... so he comes and watches.... 90, 100, 110, 120 litres.... then he puts the pump down, jumps in the van and drives off.... As he does so it becomes obvious he has removed the rear quarter window and there are two huge fuel drums in the back of the van. So we call the police who came round and basically bollocked us for the stupidity of not cutting the pump off sooner (alas employing two uniterested 17 yr olds has it's downsides). Apparently wondering how much fuel you can get in an astra van is not a wise thing to allow in the eyes of the law. Turns out the van was stolen and it wasn't seen again.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 23:45, Reply)
I worked in a shop with my uncle
in the late 70s and early 80s.

He made me get up at 6am to open up, then send me round on a clapped-out old bike to make the deliveries.

He'd sometimes treat me to a Bounty bar only to inform me to 'put my money in the till' for it.

He used to clip me round the year, never give me a raise, and stamp on any of my plans for self-advancement.

He ruined all my relationships, such as with the gorgeous Stephanie with a PH, Jelly Tot Julie and the lovely milk woman whose name I never learned.

He was obsessed with this big-titted ginger nurse who lived across the road. Sometimes she would take pity on me and nuzzle my face into her bosoms. My uncle didn't like that, the deprived old bastard.

******SURELY YOU'VE ALL GOT THIS BY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!******

But to make absolutely sure...

I hated the stuttering old cunt, but he's dead now.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 22:13, 6 replies)
I did work experience in Marks and Spencers in Bath
when I was about 16/17

I was utterly useless, used to nick the food and scarf it in the stock room, avoid customers, and wank in the bogs over the fucking gorgeous young lasses I was working with.

Sherrie, if you're reading this, you were responsible for the release of GALLONS of adolescent jizz.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 21:50, 3 replies)
Non-lardy Scummerfield
In Scummerfield I was looking for a pack of lard. I had to ask one of the drones - he didn't know what lard was.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 21:26, 6 replies)
Mentioned it before...
But the defining moment of my short but varied career at the now defunct Somerfeild, was walking into the warehouse to see the produce manager and his assistant slowly working through an entire box of clementines, popping each one into their mouths before letting them fall back into the box.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 21:23, 2 replies)
Memory card trauma
Mini-me works for a big supermarket part time and came home rather horrified.
An older bloke had come into the store one day, with what could only be presumed to be his daughter in a wheelchair, who clearly had a learning disabilty, to return a faulty camera.
After he had left one of his mates noticed that a memory card had been left inside. Obviously wanting to try and return the card to it's rightful owner, and being curious chaps, they had a look at the pics.
Imagine the chapel of the Westborough baptist church crossed with a 70's redneck trailer. Then imagine a huge white board with detailed plans all over it.
Then imagine 'DREAM CHURCH' written in HUGE letters across it.

Then DON'T imagine the girl from the wheelchair sprawled naked across the floor under the sign, along with other images of her in various poses.
They passed it, stony faced, to the bosses with the assurances that something would be done with it.
No idea what came of it, but he was never seen in store again.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 20:32, Reply)

I used to work for Marks and Sparks.

Many years ago, my old nans cat was poorly. Being a pensioner she could not afford vets bills so she asked me to take her and the cat to the local PDSA (Like an NHS vets for peopole who cannot afford BUPA vets). So we sat in the waiting room and got talking to two old ladies who were there for similar reasons. So the cat gets a thermomitor up its rear and a dose of pills for its trouble (and stripes the vets hand for fun).

A few days later im working on one of the checkoouts and low and behold, the two old ladies from the PDSA are standing there with their shopping, the usual M&S stuff you would expect pensioners to buy, high quality at a high price.

One of them recognised me and nudged her mate who then proceeded to have a go at ME for abusing a charitable vetenry practice whilst I was a working man and should be able to afford to pay and it's not right that people take advantage!

Not much you can do when you work in a "customer focused" role like that, just have to grin and bear it. But fuck them, I bet they are dead now and I shop in Waitrose! Hahahaha!
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 18:33, 1 reply)
Mrs Vagabond and I enjoy grocery shopping together.
We like to piss about, flying on the trolley, throwing each other things to put in it, and generally have a bit of a laugh.

One day, we were messing about in Asda, and she tried to bum me with a carrot or something, and I turned to her and said "Do that again and I'll black your eye!", to which she responded with a V sign and blowing a raspberry at me, her lack of concern going unnoticed by the four other women in the aisle, two of which were quite large, all standing staring at me, arms crossed, "Just you fucking do it" writ large upon each face.

Jokingly telling them "I'd never hit her where it shows!" to try and make it clear I was joking and that I despise violence against women did not have the result I hoped for, and Mrs V had to back me up, telling them that I was only joking, and that I'd never hit her, to which they backed down, shaking their heads in sad disbelief.

I don't make that joke any more.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 16:17, 7 replies)
Thunderbird 4, Halloween 3, and Honey Monster
Hey some random random memories...

1. In Woolworths downstairs where the toys were, when the `new` Thunderbirds was out, you know the one with the Busted song on it! Anyway overheard somebody parents saying, who lets get all the Thunderbirds toys, so I quickly snapped up the only Thunderbird 4 because it's obviously then best one.

2. I can remember in Discount Giant buying Halloween 3 on VHS and I still own it, and it's nice heavy plastic too, not none of this digital copy whatchamacallit!!!

3. Oh yeah I saw Honey Monster in Normid and he scarred the piss out of me !!!

(, Sun 13 May 2012, 15:22, 5 replies)
I work the graveyard shift at a store
open all night. I had tap dancers circle me to the music overhead, gymnasts doing flips and cartwheels down my aisle, a female bodybuilder who stripped off her street clothes to run through her posing routine, and a paint department fire that made the ceiling look like the bottom of the tea kettle over the flame.

My cohorts all like best the visit from two lewd lesbian lovers, who used my flattop (rolling work table) for tongue-wrestling, crotch-pawing, nipple-pinching fun. I kept the action in my peripheral vision and behaved as though this was just an ordinary misappropriation of my work equipment.

The one facing me eventually said, "Look. It's not even bothering him."

I replied, "I'm a [name of company] professional and the only judgment I make is how best to fill your grocery needs."

What I didn't tell them was that I had internet and I'd seen this movie before. They left, performing some less audacious displays of affection on the way, but nothing trumped the routine done for my benefit.
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 14:09, Reply)
Overheard in Sainsburys
A gaggle of female shelf-stackers chatting amongst themselves, estuary accents all round, I only clearly heard one line of their conversation: "...I'm not being funny but, it wasn't even funny..."
(, Sun 13 May 2012, 14:06, 5 replies)

This question is now closed.

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