Ducked into the Warehouse for some basics.
Not a habitual Warehouse shopper, but the fact is only a damn fool spends money you don’t have to and some things are cheaper there, with no diminution in quality. Or at least none to worry about. I’m not going to spend the earth on children’s sunglasses when they’re likely to be twisted into a useless shape, or used as a vital part in a game of How Many Things Can We Flush Down the Toilet Today Before Daddy Notices and Growls.
There’s a few important things to remember when going to the Warehouse though: one being never wear a tomato red t-shirt.
Did that once. Got bugged by other shoppers wanting to know where the pancake making equipment was, and talking really slowly and clearly because they assumed I was a refugee from Boratistan.
This time I’m looking for the children’s sunglasses. They are, I’m told by a helpful Warehouse staffer, in the footwear section.
Of course they are. How silly of me not to realise.
The Warehouse staff though do have my respect, especially at this time of the year.
Working long hours for low pay constantly surrounded by muzak versions of Christmas songs is about the nearest thing to hell I can think of, at least without invoking electrodes or some form of human waste.
Not one of them – so far – has ever gone berserk with a high powered rifle. That shows a certain strength of character, I feel.