Today’s post was going to be a light-hearted post about incompetent staff, parsimonious customers, and rich supermarket owners.
You can read that one later.
For now, the first part is ….
Taking the dog out of the door for his lunchtime walk, Partner noticed next-door’s cat in the stairwell.
This is not the first time the cat runs rampant around the block. Doing whatever cats do when they run rampantly around blocks.
Last time, I coaxed it upstairs, we did nice cat noises together, I picked it up and we did nice purrs. Partner and dog were able to leave the block in tranquility.
Well this time the little fucker was right outside our front door. Then it ran downstairs. By the time I got down to intercede, it was stand-off time. This, for anyone who doesn’t understand, is where extremely large and fast dog who adores people, children and puppies, wants to kill cats that are encroaching on his territory.
When I say wants to, I mean will. Record to date: Pippa: a couple of cats, and an extremely large vicious rat. Cats and rats: 0. A couple of claws in his nose and a scratch.
Now, a cat with nowhere to go, is just not going to win this battle. I’ll spare those of you with cats and rats the details of the dog’s rather efficient technique. Suffice to say it works.
I went to move the cat out of the way in the hopes I would alleviate the situation. Hissing from cat and snarling from dog. Groaning from Partner.
They went one way and I tried to placate the darling cat who had been my friend before. I picked him up. Scratch, hiss, bite, went the little bastard. I dropped the fucking thing and cursed him to hell as he ran upstairs.
‘I’ll catch you up when I’ve sorted the blood,’ I called after Partner and dog. Before I knew it the Vamps would be out wanting to chase cat, dog, and suck my blood. i shot upstairs too.
Owner of cat wandered out of her flat happily.
‘Your cat was downstairs,’ I snarled. ‘It’s happened a lot recently.’
‘Oh, I know. My mother let him out for three hours the other day.’
Hello. Stupid fucking cow. You know? Why does your cat have the right to run up and down the block? Huh? When there are two dogs – to our knowledge – who live in it? And we have already told you our dog is not the most cat-friendly specimen in the world?
I am sure there are no bad cats, like there are no bad dogs. I’m not exactly fond of this cat at the moment, but I’m even less fond of his stupid fucking person.
Despite blood gushing out of my hand (ok maybe not dripping all the way down the stairs) she called happily upwards for darling gatito and seemed not to notice my Significant Injury. She didn’t move her idle fat arse and run up there to find him. Why would she? If she was that interested in what the cat was doing she would supervise his very annoying block excursions and wander around with him.
All I can say is, wait till the nice Doberman upstairs grows up. Heh. Heh. Heh.
And the second story is ……
Anyway, there we were in Morrisons as usual. I’d bought finger chillis, at £5 a kilo, previously called Thai chillis, and then priced at £5.99 a kilo.
Pesky woman rang them in at £5.99. I queried it. ‘They’re £5.99 a kilo and only 18p,’ she said. And looked at me scornfully. I withered on the spot.
Really helpful Placatory Partner said maybe the sign on the shelf was wrong. I always thought they had to sell stuff at the shelf price or not at all. But I was clearly in the wrong. All ways round.
I looked at the receipt. Thai chillis at £5.99. I went back to the shelf. Finger chillis at £5. I moaned at Partner but said it was only a few pence so what did it matter.
Well, lo and behold for Christmas. He jumped on his soapbox and said ‘Imagine doing that 100 times a day. In every Morrisons shop. Not even as though the staff get anything out of it. That’s why their profits are so good. You go and ask for that money back.’
Ah right. Me. I have to be the one making a total plonker of myself saying this price is wrong and I want a few pence back.
I mean, his point had logic, and why should Mr Morrison have lots of my money unnecessarily? But for a few pence? Three, by the way, I had now worked it out to be.
Truth was, I’d been had before on this chilli lark. I’d bought the Thai ones, for £5.99 and been charged for the expensive ones at £6.99, but because it was only a matter of pence I didn’t have the brass neck to go and complain.
He plonked the shopping bags down and insisted. I slouched up to the customer services desk and cringed. The woman looked surprised and went off to sort it. Trouble was, the nearest cashier she asked couldn’t find them on her till code thing.
In the end the customer service person agreed to give me 5p off. I was wrapped. I had made all of 2p profit. I signed the form and wished her a Merry Christmas and still felt like a total arse for making such a fuss.
‘You know,’ said Partner, as we walked home, ‘it’s important to sort these things out.’
I have the feeling Santa won’t be coming down my non-existent chimney tonight.