Sunday, 17 July 2016
Saturday, 16 July 2016
Waitrose
It was like walking into a western saloon wearing pink bottomless leather half-chaps, matching shirt with sequins and fluffy pink 10 gallon hat. Gingerly stepping over the corpses of unwise cowboys who had squinted in the wrong direction, and been met with a hail of bullets from some unshaven Mexicans with a penchant for whiskey and a reputation for over-reacting.
On reaching the bar and asking for an Earl Grey tea, no milk and a slice of ginger cake, the barman giving me that look that says, "Earl Grey, EARL GREY, EARL GOD DAMN GREY!!!!!" and then proceeding to shove the said t-bag through the hole in the bottomless half-chaps and depositing it where there would be some challenge adding the boiling water, not that that would deter him from trying to do so.
Maybe I go too far, well the bit about the Earl Grey and ginger cake was true, the Barman was a young disinterested girl and I also had a ham and cheese toastie all for £8.50.
This was my first time ever in Waitrose and for those who have never heard of this chain it is a step up from M&S but well short of Fortnum & Masons. A premium supermarket chain that caters for the somewhat better off clientele in the UK. A chain where you have to wear a shirt and tie (if you are male) to shop there and they almost carry out a number of background checks before allowing you to enter the premises.
In my defence I did intend to go to Asda following my rather late night out last night. I was in need of food, both immediate for brunch and also for the following week. As Asda hove into view I observed the lack of parking and had noted the Waitrose car park and so made the fateful decision to turn left and, although my car is in need of a clean, being a Jaguar enabled me to overcome the first line of Waitrose's defence and I pulled in. The first thing I noticed was that the 'normal' car parking bay was to put it mildly, massive. I could get my full length in the space with room to spare (take that how you will). There was even room on either side to allow for doors to open. I was impressed.
My first contact with an employee was actually as I proceeded to requisition a trolley. I asked whether they were available upstairs in the shop or should I take it into the lift? He sort of grunted that they were available and, thinking that the lift would be a regular size, I opted to delay my requisition. I was surprised to find that you could play five a side in the lift and have room for a burger van too.
The shop is very smart as are the staff, in terms of dress at least. I decided to have something to eat in the plush café but was worried that I may have to don a bow tie and jacket. When I managed to catch the attention of the entirely underemployed member of staff, who was un-enthusiastically trying to ignore her only customer, I placed my order. It would not become clear until much later on why she was reluctant to engage with me. I did manage to get served and the quality of presentation and food was impressive, if not the service. In fact I managed to spot a member of the team with some libellous message on her work clothing, it said "Customer Service".
The shop is overstaffed to the point where they have more than catered for the perceived loss of employment to be felt from the de-industrialisation of the UK after the decline of the coal, steel and shipbuilding industries.
I was very impressed with the range and quality of the goods on offer and even noted how neat and articulate the signage was. I had never seen so many independent types of cider on sale before. Not even the Camra festival at Earls Court has such a wide range of ciders.
The moment of realisation for me came when I unfurled my shopping bag and it was then that I saw that I had in fact brought in an Asda bag. I felt like I had smuggled cocaine into the country and was now surrounded by enthusiastic and slightly aggressive police officers.
The class of customer is somewhat more pretentious, but then also that comes with rather better manners than the average pyjama wearing family that shops en mass at Tescos. The children looked genuinely bored as if to indicate that shopping in a supermarket is not intellectually challenging enough for them but that it should offer more stimulating experiences.
Although I may have embellished a little, I think their niche market is making the shopping more of a quality experience than a mad crush for the weekly provisions whilst trying to dodge the poorly planned and positioned trollies of the shelf stackers. I now have to go back if only to listen to the customers and their outrageous comments, they are ever so civilised so much so that I cannot imagine having trolley rage. I will also have to take An there so she can enhance her cultural experience of the British way of doing things.
On reaching the bar and asking for an Earl Grey tea, no milk and a slice of ginger cake, the barman giving me that look that says, "Earl Grey, EARL GREY, EARL GOD DAMN GREY!!!!!" and then proceeding to shove the said t-bag through the hole in the bottomless half-chaps and depositing it where there would be some challenge adding the boiling water, not that that would deter him from trying to do so.
Maybe I go too far, well the bit about the Earl Grey and ginger cake was true, the Barman was a young disinterested girl and I also had a ham and cheese toastie all for £8.50.
This was my first time ever in Waitrose and for those who have never heard of this chain it is a step up from M&S but well short of Fortnum & Masons. A premium supermarket chain that caters for the somewhat better off clientele in the UK. A chain where you have to wear a shirt and tie (if you are male) to shop there and they almost carry out a number of background checks before allowing you to enter the premises.
In my defence I did intend to go to Asda following my rather late night out last night. I was in need of food, both immediate for brunch and also for the following week. As Asda hove into view I observed the lack of parking and had noted the Waitrose car park and so made the fateful decision to turn left and, although my car is in need of a clean, being a Jaguar enabled me to overcome the first line of Waitrose's defence and I pulled in. The first thing I noticed was that the 'normal' car parking bay was to put it mildly, massive. I could get my full length in the space with room to spare (take that how you will). There was even room on either side to allow for doors to open. I was impressed.
My first contact with an employee was actually as I proceeded to requisition a trolley. I asked whether they were available upstairs in the shop or should I take it into the lift? He sort of grunted that they were available and, thinking that the lift would be a regular size, I opted to delay my requisition. I was surprised to find that you could play five a side in the lift and have room for a burger van too.
The shop is very smart as are the staff, in terms of dress at least. I decided to have something to eat in the plush café but was worried that I may have to don a bow tie and jacket. When I managed to catch the attention of the entirely underemployed member of staff, who was un-enthusiastically trying to ignore her only customer, I placed my order. It would not become clear until much later on why she was reluctant to engage with me. I did manage to get served and the quality of presentation and food was impressive, if not the service. In fact I managed to spot a member of the team with some libellous message on her work clothing, it said "Customer Service".
The shop is overstaffed to the point where they have more than catered for the perceived loss of employment to be felt from the de-industrialisation of the UK after the decline of the coal, steel and shipbuilding industries.
I was very impressed with the range and quality of the goods on offer and even noted how neat and articulate the signage was. I had never seen so many independent types of cider on sale before. Not even the Camra festival at Earls Court has such a wide range of ciders.
The moment of realisation for me came when I unfurled my shopping bag and it was then that I saw that I had in fact brought in an Asda bag. I felt like I had smuggled cocaine into the country and was now surrounded by enthusiastic and slightly aggressive police officers.
The class of customer is somewhat more pretentious, but then also that comes with rather better manners than the average pyjama wearing family that shops en mass at Tescos. The children looked genuinely bored as if to indicate that shopping in a supermarket is not intellectually challenging enough for them but that it should offer more stimulating experiences.
Although I may have embellished a little, I think their niche market is making the shopping more of a quality experience than a mad crush for the weekly provisions whilst trying to dodge the poorly planned and positioned trollies of the shelf stackers. I now have to go back if only to listen to the customers and their outrageous comments, they are ever so civilised so much so that I cannot imagine having trolley rage. I will also have to take An there so she can enhance her cultural experience of the British way of doing things.
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