Don't Judge The Bird, Judge The Worm

The Bird: Sometimes there's no other option

I enjoy going food shopping. I feel empowered being able to amble up and down each aisle, perusing the goods on offer, each one of them begging me to choose them. The bright packaging tantalising and taunting me saying, "If we look this good on the outside, imagine what we taste like on the inside".

Obviously, I end up buying the item that's the cheapest per 100g, but that's beside the point. I love to browse, the fundamental difference between a man and a woman is the love affair the latter has with browsing.

We like to pick random foodstuffs up, lazily read the label, run our eye over the nutritional content and say something like "Ooh this one has less carbs than our normal one", then proceed to pick up our usual brand, hold the two items side by side and look at them for longer then probably necessary. 9 times out of 10 we end up picking our regular item.

So you can imagine my irritation when the touched in the head monkey-woman Coles have hired to stack the shelves, drags her knuckles off the ground and pulls her cart full of re-stackables directly in front of the curry paste jars I was just about to move on to.

May or may not be an exaggeration

This woman, if you can call her that, has not only manoeuvered her trolley in between my cart and the shelves but has angled her ample frame directly in front of me.

Now, I'm on the small side of average height, so it's no feat for someone to be taller than me but this woman, this woman was huuuuuuuge.

Not only was I unable to reach out and gently caress random items, but I couldn't even see around this abominable snow-thing to lovingly sweep my gaze over the different sizes of pasta shells I probably wasn't going to buy anyway. It was an outrage!

I stand on my tippy toes and reach up to tap her on the shoulder and ask in my sweetest voice if she wouldn't mind moving over a little bit.

I get nothing. I try tapping again.

Suddenly the animal speaks, "Tell me whatcha want and I'll pass it to you," the thing grunted at me.

"But I'm not sure what I want, I'm browsing at the minute, so if you wouldn't mind..."

"Just let me know what you're ready love."

Well just where did this (wo)man get off, doesn't working in customer service mean she should be servicing the customer, i.e. me? She is cutting into my browsing time and my shopping buddy doesn't appreciate my browsing to begin with, I start to panic that I won't be able to fondle the different gnocchis when my worst nightmare was realised.

"Come on, let's go I've got shit to do."

My shopping mate is moving me on, this is worse then being moved on from the police, I beg them to permit me a few minutes more in case the bullpig finishes with this shelf and I can swoop in and stare.

Nope, they're not having any of it. We were on the move, I had no choice. Curses!

As we round the corner I turn back to look at the proverbial thorn in my side, she looks at me and smirks. What a ball of flubber.

Bitch. I flipped her the bird.