Here’s the story of difficult wrapping, con merchants, and rosé tears.
I don’t know about you love, but I would’ve thought everything at a store named ‘Poundland’ would’ve cost a pound, but I guess not! I have spent hours and hours looking for a teddy bear, I finally find one in your establishment, I stand in a bleedin’ queue for flipping hours, pound in hand, and she tells me it’s three pounds! How does that work! It literally says behind you, till lady, ‘Everything for a Pound!’ That is clearly not true! It’s false advertising! They don’t even put prices on their items to con you into buying things you think are gonna cost a pound and bloody well don’t! “Not my problem,” she said to me. “IT LITERALLY IS! You bloody work here!” “Look darling, will you calm down. There’s a queue, you knew the price, now give me the money.” “I HAD A POUND ALL READY FOR YOU AND NOW I’M TRYING TO FIND THREE POUNDS! YOU KNEW THE PRICE? YES, A POUND, BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING POUNDLAND, YOU IGNORANT TWIT!” Needless to say, I’m not welcome back to Poundland…
Oh, it’s all because of ‘Brexit’ they say. I’m getting a bit sick of that excuse. Every flipping store. “Why’s the price gone up?” “Brexit.” “Right, but it says, ‘Made in England.’ It’s a piece of wood. Grown in the UK and manufactured in the UK before we even left the EU!” Seriously, it’s a hell of an excuse because they don’t think you’ll question it and they win even if you do, because you can’t do anything about extortionate prices. I suppose you could lead a boycott of various shops like, let’s pick one at random, erm, Poundland, let’s say, and then betray the comrades you gained in your boycott by going in to said shop and buying a shit load of stuff. The staff will be so desperate for your custom that you can haggle until you actually get your teddy bear for a pound. But it seems like an awful lot of work for a teddy bear.
Now, you might say, ‘Well, why didn’t you go to the teddy bear shop!’ BECAUSE THIS ISN’T LONDON! Nowhere outside of London has a frickin’ teddy bear shop! There’s more to the UK than that London. All the good bits, for example. Now, you might now say, ‘Well, why did you even want to buy a teddy bear?’ BECAUSE WOMEN ARE VERY HARD TO BUY FOR! And they like teddy bears! And the only shop I could find that sold them were the bloody con merchants ThreePoundland! Somebody in front of me bought a box of chocolates for 15 pounds, don’t you know. Don’t tell me I’m the only one utterly outraged!
And I haven’t even gotten to the bag situation, yet. I asked that girl at the till, because that’s what she was, about 12, chewing her gum and twiddling her hair, for a bag. If you’re coming to the UK, always ask for a bag at a store because they won’t give you one. She couldn’t even manage that! “Where’s my bag?” “Didn’t ask for one.” “I… I clearly did, madam. Now give me a bloody bag and two pounds, please!” “Well, I’d have to reprint the receipt and I can’t do that.” “Can’t or… won’t?”
As you can tell, I hate Christmas. I finished my Christmas shopping this week and it took a while, and not just because of ThreePoundLand’s ridiculous pricing policy. I wouldn’t even have an issue if they renamed it. LiarLand. There you go. I got a voucher for mother. Didn’t work. “Sorry, there’s a problem with the voucher, I’ll have to get you another one.” It was a big shop. She was gone for 10 minutes. Came back with five more. “I’ll just try this one, sir. I’m really sorry about this.” I should bloody well hope so. Second voucher. No, that didn’t work either. Third one, nope. Fourth, not really. Fifth. Well, it took 20 pounds, but it wouldn’t take 25. Sigh. At least I only had one more thing on my list. Keep calm Ally, I know you really want to snap like a pencil, but… just one more thing. One more and then this hell is over. A bottle of wine. Simples.
Actually, not so simples. You see, I don’t drink and therefore I know nothing about alcohol. So I went to the wine section and I was lost. All I know about wine is that rosé is best if you don’t know what someone likes. But wine bottles don’t say ‘rosé,’ they just say ‘wine.’ I had to pick up about 30 bottles to read the descriptions on the back. That took about half an hour! In that time, countless people walked through the wine aisle of the supermarket, picked up a bottle and wandered off. I started to think I was the dumbest person on Earth. All these people knew exactly what wine to buy and here I was, struggling and too frightened to ask the staff after the situations at the voucher place and Poundland left me a touch frazzled. I honestly expected a member of staff to come up to me and ask me if I’d escaped from the mental hospital. I couldn’t have looked more out of my depth. ‘They all look the same!’ I whimpered to myself, desperately holding back the tears.
I don’t know if they’ll like the one I picked. I can only hope it’s whatever the hell ‘rosé’ is. I don’t even know if that’s wine. God only knows. It wasn’t even the last of my woes, readers. I got asked for identification at the till. ‘Oh, not another tetchy till lady.’ I didn’t know you couldn’t buy alcohol in the UK if you’re under 25! Good thing I’m 26. “Eee, you look about 18,” she said to me after looking at my driving licence. She thought I was 18? I found myself warming to that woman…
I’ve started to wrap up all my presents for various people. I can only hope I haven’t forgotten anyone. Voucher, voucher, rosé, rosé, voucher, voucher, teddy bear. For mum, of course. I’m usually the one who does mum’s wrapping, by the way. She’s bought father some power tools, which, sure, isn’t too hard to wrap up. She’s also got him sandpaper for said power tools, which doesn’t come in a box. Sadly. I don’t know how I’m gonna wrap that up without the paper tearing. It’s a challenge I’m not overly excited about…
Still, I’ve put the tree up and Christmas is almost upon us. And soon, the year will end. What will 2017 have in store for me? God only knows. All I hope for is that it’ll be a much nicer year than this one, that we all live by the philosophy of peace and goodwill to all of humankind, that we all stop bickering and arguing, and that the world becomes a happier place.
Oh, I also hope that Poundland are consigned to hell…
American author, Toni Bernhard, once wrote: ‘Behind every stressful thought is the desire for things to be other than they are.’
Peace Out :|:
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