Unexpected commitment in the bag for life area
People are far too casual about their obligations to their supermarket bag for life these days, buying them and then abandoning them willy nilly. Now civil ceremonies have been introduced, where the shopper and the bag pledge their commitment to each other before witnesses, emphasising the sincerity of their intentions. (Those who have had their bag for some time can renew their vows.)
Details of the ceremony vary according to the supermarket, but generally it takes place next to a communal recycling bin and is conducted by a certified customerbag relationship counsellor. Vows are exchanged, with a trusted proxy speaking for the bag. Holding his (or her) loyalty card in the right hand, the customer says: “I solemnly swear by the environment that I will forsake all flimsy bags and will not cast you aside wilfully or lightly in the cupboard under the stairs, I will fold you neatly after use and will not put any sharp or pointed object inside you. And when you are finally worn out I undertake to fill you with unwanted clothes and leave you outside the door of a charity shop”
In reply, the bag’s proxy will pledge: “I will carry your groceries safely and will not allow my handles to break while you are walking along the street, causing a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon to smash on the pavement. Furthermore, I will not object if you use me in other retail outlets beside the one from whence I came.”
There is usually music. Sainsbury’s customers tend to choose He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother while a big favourite with Tesco people is John Denver’s You Fill up My Senses. Waitrose regulars tend to choose something by Handel.
Some opening gambits to put you on your guard: “As a valued customer, we’d like to reward you …” And: “Don’t worry, I’m not selling anything …” Plus: “Just a quick one today about your service agreement …” Also: “Have you heard of PHOO, the charity, Please Help Orphaned Otters?”
Text messages you would rather not read: the reminder that your regular check-up with the hygienist is overdue and anything that begins “Great News!”
Questions to which you answer yes, but you really mean no: “Would you like to hear about today’s specials?” (This is going to add complications to a decision-making process which is already difficult enough.) Also: “We’re all going for a walk after lunch. Would you like to join us?”
Questions to which you answer no when you really mean yes: “Do you mind if we join you?” And: “Is my dog bothering you?”
Public notices that make you want to turn around and go home again: “Bear with us while we make some essential improvements.” (Always beware when you see the word “improvement”.) And “update” is a bad omen, as in: “We are updating our website.”
Three words in the headline of a news report you need not bother to read: “…sparks Twitter storm.” We’ve been hearing about jogger rage lately, but I have also witnessed several disturbing instances of pedestrian pique. To be honest, I’ve also been guilty of it at times. Last week, in all that rain, a man with a gigantic corporate umbrella came bearing down on me and I confess I wanted to do something unplea unpleasant to his logo. In the end I conten contented myself with some pretty eloque eloquent eyebrow work, which he didn’t notice.
Thin Things can get pretty tense out here ono the pavement, with people loiteri loitering with intent to irritate and others putting more menace than you ca can imagine into those two words “Excuse me.” Dudgeon can be palpa palpable.
Th Then you have to consider tho those fellow pedestrians who are suff suffering severe cases of microsco scooter miff, clipboard tizzy (as the they try to dodge people doing sur surveys) texter wrath, tourist um umbrage and litter hump. The wh whole thing could boil over into a massive paddy, but then the s situation is saved as, thank goodn goodness, a cyclist arrives, riding along the pavement. At once we are all uni united in our hostility.