Tag Archives: store

Basket Test Case

Now and again, I pop into the Tesco store in Ringsend. Tesco in general can be pretty crap since they scaled down their ‘fancy’ product offerings two years ago. Tesco in Ringsend is extra crap. I recall a hissy fit when I realised they sold four different types of grated cheddar cheese and there was not a triangle of Parmesan (nor the grated variety) to be had. Parmesan is pretty basic, no? Last month, I again left the store, mumbling furiously to myself, when apples were the only fruit on sale. I have braces; I can’t bite into apples. I wanted a banana. Do you think there was a banana to be had? No! I flipped my imaginary hair furiously, turned on my heels and vowed never to set foot in the nutritionally void store again. The only item guaranteed in stock in Tesco Ringsend is scurvy.

Last week, out of pure necessity, I returned to same Tesco in Ringsend. I set my expectations low. Expect nothing ‘fancy’, fresh or organic, I reminded myself. Jubilations, there were bananas. I threw some into my basket. Since I prepared for an evening of study, I wanted Crunchy Nut Cornflakes to snack on. En route to the cereal aisle, which as you can guess is quite prominent – and barren of porridge and granola, I encountered a sight to behold. There, beside the small offering of vegetables stood a beautiful man. His hair was dark, almost black, was cut shortly and stylishly. His sharp cheek bones angled towards a dimpled chin. From his complexion – and lack of proximity – I guessed his eyes were blue. When dealing with a specimen of this calibre, it is essential to weigh up the whole package; I checked out his clothes. He wore a tweed jacket, most definitely from Zara, dark slim fit jeans and white Adidas Tiger runners. This boy ticked all the right boxes. It was imperative I travel to the cereal aisle via the vegetables and fruit. I slipped by, apologising as I did. He didn’t even notice.

Ten minutes later, my shopping basket brimmed with junk food. It was time to queue for a cashier. There were only four people in the queue. I noted the absence of Beautiful Man. The store is quite small. I hadn’t bumped into him on any other of the aisles. Where could he be? I asked. Did he leave? This required an investigation … or a stalk. He wasn’t on the alcohol aisle. Neither was he in the convenience food section. He was nowhere near the baked goods. He must have managed to sneak by me, I realised. Perhaps, he is still in the fruit and veg section? I pondered. Carrying my heavy basket, I wobbled in that direction. There he stood tall, looking as beautiful as ever, examining the label of some pre-packed corn-on-the cob. This man clearly makes an effort to eat healthily. I would never buy corn-on-the-cob, never mind examine the label. My presence had still not come on his radar. I took an opportunity to check out the contents of his shopping basket. In his basket was:

  • Strawberries
  • Glenisk yoghurt
  • Celery
  • Grapes
  • Onions

While his shopping list was clearly not representational of his final purchase, it gave an accurate assessment of how important his diet was, given his lean, healthy appearance and the considerable amount of time he spent choosing his fruit and veg. I was disappointed with his purchases. I too like to eat healthily, but there was no fun in his diet. It’s clear I am placing waaaaaaay too much emphasis on Beautiful Man’s purchases to soften the insult of his failure to acknowledge me as I purposely collided into him with my shopping basket. I dismissed him and his dull basket. The man I want will be as good looking as Beautiful Man, cook with fresh ingredients just as I am sure Beautiful man does, but my man will have a streak of fun in him. He’ll have a Box of Frosties, Oreos or a pack of Wagon Wheels in his shopping basket.

Advertisements

Zara, a Step Above Penneys

Popular high-street clothes shop, Zara, are the equivalent of Vincent de Paul to the fashion industry. Zara bring trends, tailoring and boutique-style shopping to the masses for high-street prices. I know little about Zara only for  a case study I did during my morkeshing degree. Zara’s business model involves stocking their stores with short runs of clothes to create a relatively “exclusive” line range of clothing.

Last week, I eagle-eyed a jacket in the store on Henry Street. I must have been ill since I didn’t purchase it. Since then, I have been in three Zara stores in different locations in the country. The same jacket was not there. I spotted other items that I’d never seen in others. I don’t understand how this can be. Maybe stock sells quicker in different stores. Perhaps they rotate stock.

Regardless of how Zara operate, I want that bloody jacket!

My Latest Splurge

Last night, I scurried into town to visit Ted Baker’s store. Best friend dropped me an email to notify me of a 20% discount. I called the store to verify. The sales assistant told me it wasn’t 20%, but 32%. On hearing this, I came over all queer. I may have had a slight orgasm. I quickly planned my evening. I would go for a jog and then speed into town.

In the local park I ran for about fifty minutes. I rushed back to the office to shower and change. The buses near my place of work are dodgy; three come at once and then there is nothing for a solid twenty minutes. I decided I would walk into town. I ignored the hunger pangs for there was greater fashion good at hand.

The Ted Baker store was its usual fabulous self. A caterer offered beer, profiteroles, macaroons and custard tarts. I shoved her out of the way to get to the jackets I had been eyeing up online. While trying on the coats, I felt faint and dizzy. I realised my sugar level had crashed. I beckoned the caterer and scoffed two or three of her offerings.

These are the jackets I bought. Aren’t they lovely? The fact I got 32% off makes them lovelier.

Ted Baker Black

Ted Baker Brown