Welcome to Mogadonmart

A word of explanation:
Those of us fortunate enough to live in anonymous provincial neighbourhoods enjoy the privilege of retail excellence in the form of our local supermarket.
One such is to be found in my own locale.  This is my personal tribute to somewhere you will probably never visit - and for that you should be thankful.

The Location
Mogadonmart is located on a busy main road just outside the town centre.  It is set back from the road behind a smallish carpark with room for about 50 cars.  It occupies a brick building with no windows.  

The carefully selected staff
The manager: Is called Alec.  He is about 25.  He is tall and thin with a long nose.  He has short hair which he gels in a spiky style.  He always wears a dark polyester suit that has that characteristic shine.  He always has at least three days growth of beard - not enough to look good but just enough to look scruffy. He never ever seems to speak to anyone.  All hell can break loose, children run screaming through the store, checkout staff ring their call bells manically,  a cruise missile lands in the carpark - but Alec doesn't speak. To anyone. How does he do that?  Manage a supermarket and not speak to anyone. Is this a borg run store - they all communicate telepathically?

Lucy: Has worked there since February 2003. She is about 17.  She is a big girl.  She has wild straw coloured curly hair that sticks out at the sides.  She has rosy cheeks.  She always wears an earnest expression and looks like she is under pressure.  Even when the store is completely empty [except for me and the other staff of course].  Lucy has the air of someone who works hard,  all the time,  even when she is relaxing - which may not be that often.

Vijay: Has worked there for about two years.  He is a student and works part time - usually on Saturdays but sometimes during the week too.  He is highly focussed on checkout speeds.  He is one of the fastest checkout operators I have ever seen.  He always always says 'allright?' when you approach the checkout and smiles.  He says this to everyone but somehow he always makes it sound as though it is meant just for you and that he really is interested to know.

Harry Potter: Is the assistant manager.  He is about 22.  Is tall, of medium build.  He is the image of Harry Potter but has a lot of facial acne that gives his skin an angry redness.  He seems quite shy.  I feel sorry for him as he seems to be a nice guy.

Brenda: Is the other assistant manager.  She is late 40s - early 50s.  She has shoulder length fine hair which is permed - not very well.  She has a pinched face and has a natural scowl that combined with her stocky build gives her an air of menace.  She always wears a tailored mid grey suit which is square cut and does not flatter her.

Nancy: Is about 40.  She has quite a nervous disposition and never makes eye contact.  She speaks hesitantly and smiles nervously a lot.  She always looks especially worried when she is using the till which makes me think she is a bit of a technophobe.

Lynda: Seems to be the most together person in the whole store.  She has an easy going air about her.  Smiles a lot and engages you in conversation as she is serving you.  She always seems contented and smiles easily.  She is Scottish.  The other staff always seem to be happier when she is there. Lynda is around 40, about 5' 5'', blonde with a pretty face.

more to come


The strange mystery of checkouts 3-6
For as long as I can remember checkouts 3 4 5 & 6 have never ever been used.  To all intents and purposes they are identical in every respect to checkouts 1 & 2.  No expense has been spared in their equippage: Shiny rubber conveyor belt - 1 each, ample supplies of 'Next Customer Please' batons, identical hideous-blue operator chairs, fully functioning tills that flash ready for someone to logon and checkout.  I have shopped early in the morning, mid morning, mid-afternoon, early evening and last thing at night.  I have shopped midweek, weekends, summer, winter, Christmas, early February - [you get the idea] - but never ever have they bloody well been open.

Customer service policy explained
Approximately 97% [*] of my visits to Mogdonmart involve queuing for lengthy periods at the checkout.  Indeed, this is one of the principal reasons for my taking the trouble to chronicle this arguably tedious feature of my life. To extract some value and meaning from an otherwise vacuous experience. At least there is some blogyield to be had eh?  Anyway - I digress.  Today was a typical scenario: Lucy was on checkout 0 - [this will be explained in due course I promise] - as I entered.  A small queue of happy shoppers was lined up awaiting her ministrations.  I made my way into the aisles to select my items:  a nice bottle of Chardonnay for tonight's dinner, some 'authentic French bread' [made in France - baked in Mogadonmart by Nancy ] and a copy of The Guardian - only one copy of which is delivered to the store each day and it is a toss up which of the two intellectuals in this neighbourhood get to buy it.  I then made my way back to the front of the store and approached checkout 0 where Lucy was beginning to take on that flustered look - [there were six people in the queue].  I joined this oh so familiar gathering - mostly older folk, wearing variations on beige and grey, tired honest faces.  Cigarette purchases by several [for checkout 0 is the bureau de fags].  Then it happened.  I could sense it.  First, Lucy begins to get even more edgy than normal - she made a slip on the till and charged old Jack twice for his 20 Bensons.  Jack gets narked - he's huffing and puffing - Lucy reddens and taps away at the till which bleeps cooperatively.  Then the approach...[an eighth person has joined the queue]. This is it - the 'tipping point'. No hesitation - Lucy rings that call bell with shock and awe.  Seconds pass,  there is a muffled sound of frantic activity in The Mirrored Box [will be explained in due course]. Lucy is losing it - the till is now bleeping continuously,  Jack is muttering about having to catch a bus, fellow queuers are shuffling agitatedly and I hear several sighs.  Mr Eighth mutters, 'For Fucks sake' under his breath.  Suddenly the door to The Mirrored Box bursts open, there is a flurry of activity - it is Brenda and she's not happy - not one little bit.  She glares at poor Lucy and opens up checkout 1 with a vengeance.  Suddenly there is a scramble and Brenda now has her own queue.  There is a beige and grey blur as baskets are hastily relocated.  Harry, meanwhile, has also emerged from The Mirrored Box and with some stealth is already unjamming the till for Lucy.  Within moments Jack is gone to top up his nicotine level,  Lucy is tapping away and scanning like there is no tomorrow,  Mr Eighth, [who is now Brenda's Mr Sixth], is cursing Brenda who is now jammed up herself with a dodgy barcode on the reduced avocado [this week's avocado - there is only one].  drD meanwhile thanks Lucy as she packs his items into a distinctive blue and white Mogadonmart 5000 year halflife carrier.  "Those tills eh - they're not very user friendly are they?",  he quips jauntily.  "No - I keep cocking it up",  says Lucy,  now looking worried [which for her means she is fine].
Where others have a 'one in front' policy  - Mogadonmart has a seven in front with a cocked up till  one - class.
drD leaves the building as Brenda shouts "Harry - come and sort this love will ya?"

more to come


Note: this is a non verifiable statistic and is derived primarily from the sheer bleedin tedium factor [SBTF] - if you were wondering.

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