You can be forgiven for thinking this is about using some 21st century App to enable you to shop by using your mobile phone, (Cellphone) and either collecting the order, or having it delivered.
It has got nothing to do with that. It is about how so many people can no longer do something as simple as a grocery shop in a supermarket, without being glued to their mobile phone throughout the time spent in the shop.
Yesterday afternoon, I went to get a week’s supplies at the big Tesco supermarket just outside Dereham The Covid-19 restrictions are still in place of course. Queueing outside until allowed in, then a one-way system up and down the aisles, with constant reminders to keep six feet away from other shoppers. All very sensible.
Except that at least 60% of the shoppers seem to beieve that this gives them time and space to still browse aimlessly, being completely ignorant to those of us patiently waiting six feet behind them until they have made their selection. Then there are others who seem to treat a huge supermarket as an extension of their own living room. Glued to their phone throughout, constantly stopping to chat on their mobile, or using it to show someone goods they may or may not choose to buy.
Some examples from yesterday.
Woman about 50 years old, six feet in front of me, with an almost empty trolley, making no attempt to shop.
“Yes, and did you hear about Mike? Yes, that Mike, Val’s husband. Well Val phoned me when I was in Morrison’s earlier, and Mike’s home from hospital. He was in for two days, and Val was sure he had it. Yes, -it- the virus. But it turned out it was just a flare-up of his asthma. Oh, okay, ring me back when you have answered the door”.
So she had already been in another supermarket that day. So much for essential shopping. I didn’t wait for her friend to ring back, just walked past her and picked up the milk I needed, as she eyed me nervously for breaking the six feet rule.
Forty-something woman on some version of Live-Chat. On speaker, so I could hear both conversations. She was blocking the whole row of fresh chickens, chatting to her daughter.
“I dunno, Mum. Show me it again. Duck legs? Is that like chicken legs, or that duck we have in pancakes from the Chinese? Dunno if I want duck legs, Mum. Show me something else. Oh yeah, those barbecued wings look nice, but get two boxes coz Danny will eat one of those on his own.”
I decided not to wait to find out what else Danny wanted, and leaned over the oblivious woman to select a chicken.
Young woman in the new-style checkout queue that was snaking around almost the entire back wall of the store. She was dressed as if going to a night-club, though it was 4:30 in the afternoon, with painted on eyebrows making her look like Groucho Marx. She had only four items in her trolley.
“I tell ya, this F-ing queue in Tesco’s is a joke. If it doesn’t move soon I’m just gonna dump this F-ing trolley and walk out. Some of these people have got like trolleys full of stuff, you wouldn’t believe how much shit they have bought. No wonder there are so many fat cows in town”.
She seemed to be unaware of her own size, which was at least a size 20. And she was seemingly unaware of the fact that the queue was actually moving quite quickly in front of her. She preferred to stay where she was, complaining to her friend that it wasn’t moving.
There were more, but you get the idea.