The Sainsbury’s delivery guy crossed a line this morning. I think that’s fair to say.
I don’t mind when they pass things from their massive basket, that’s fine. But today, he took it upon himself to take the items and chuck them into the washing baskets I use for produce transportation since the 5p bag charge came in. All those 40 pence charges I am saving us every week soon add up… and go towards a new washing basket after I broke one of the other ones.
Yeah, sticking it to the man.
So, yes, line crossed.
I mean, I understand that it’s helpful. And he is one of the nicer drivers. But I use the brief moment as I move the items from basket (theirs) to basket (mine) to give them a quick once over. I can, for example, draw the driver’s attention to a red pepper than looks like Judith Chalmers’ skin (has happened).
Or stand in bewilderment at the massive piece of ginger that I have been blessed with, as previously alluded to in these pages. I ordered ginger this week and had to be very careful that I’d entered the weight this time, so as not to get most of the root structure of the entire ginger population of the world.
And by putting the items straight into my basket, I was robbed of that moment of quiet contemplation.
I also felt that he was judging the speed with which I was hefting things across, with casual disregard for the standards of packing – heavy things do not go on top of eggs or bread, for that way disaster lies. I know they have a certain time limit for each house, but since I’ve stopped the admittedly childish game of trying to throw the pack of toilet rolls to the top of the stairs and get them to stay there, unpacking the shopping is a hell of a lot quicker than it used to be.
Well, that and the fact that I’ve upped the size of the packets, and it’s very hard to get a good heft on sixteen quilted rolls. The packet is nowhere near as aerodynamic as the smaller 4-roll packs. As my review on the Sainsbury’s website will shortly say.
But in this case, as we enjoy a malformed bagel later in the week, we can be safe in the knowledge that it was the Sainsbury’s guy who bashed it senseless with a tin of soup.