So, as I say, I’m at my favourite supermarket picking up some provisions for the coming week.
It’s an hour or so before closing time and it’s relatively quiet.
I’ve chosen this time for a year or so now because it seems to be less chaotic and there’s a bit more space, particularly in the carpark where you can get close to the front door without having to traipse a mile and a half in either direction — a curse on a rainy day.
Plus there’s always plenty of trolleys handy so you can easily replace the one with the wonky wheel that makes that awful “look at me” sound as you push it round trying to ignore the stares of other shoppers.
Besides myself this particular night, there are perhaps a handful of shoppers, at least those I can see from the aisle I am frequenting, and a similar number of staff.
I’m thinking at this late stage in the day’s proceedings the supermarket probably has a bit of a skeleton crew on. Just enough to cover the necessities.
I’m making reasonable progress through the list Mrs P carefully crafted for me earlier, but then I hit a snag.
I say a snag. It was actually a giant, fully laden pallet of goods waiting to be placed in the appropriate space on the shelves.
And it was parked slap bang in front of the item I was aiming for.
If you must know, it was an Indian curry dish, a dahl no less, which is made from black lentils. Absolutely delicious and, more importantly, for those of us like myself on a limited budget, on special at $3.50.
So there I am looking at the pallet and I’m thinking I’ll just reach behind it and get what I want.
Unfortunately, this thing was parked so close to the shelves I could barely squeeze an arm through, even one connected to an arthritic shoulder that doesn’t bend or twist in the direction you want it to go these days.
Well, not without a lot of whimpering and what’s known as “sooky bubba” noises, according to My Beloved.
So then I thought, well I’ll just move it.
I’m no expert, but it looked to me like it was on one of those specific pallet jack things that take all the weight and are a breeze to move— if you have the know-how and knack. Which I very quickly realised I didn’t.
It was probably going to be something as simple as flicking a lever to get it to move, but I couldn’t work it out, so I sucked up my pride and went looking for some help.
Luckily, as I reached the end of the aisle, a rather solid, very tall young lad in a staff uniform came ambling along.
Quickly, I engaged him in conversation. Sort of.
What I mean is I said hello and he nodded in response. Then I explained my predicament and he stood there open-mouthed and stared back at me like I was from Mars. I’m sure if you have a teenager among your circle of acquaintances, you will be able to relate.
Thankfully, enough of what I was saying managed to get through and he followed me back to the pallet where we both stood and considered the problem for a while.
Thankfully, the message I had delivered finally seeped through and he tried to move the pallet, just as I’d done.
No go.
After a couple of tries he admitted defeat and, to be fair, came into his own with an understandable explanation of how he was relatively new to the job and hadn’t had much experience with these machines.
Then, with courtesy and a politeness belying his age and inexperience, asked if I could wait while he went off to find someone who could assist.
And so I waited. And waited. And waited. Remembering, of course, this was a late evening shop and there didn’t appear to be many staff around.
After a while, a large trolley came around the corner. One of those double or triple-size things staff use to fill online orders three at a time. That sort of thing.
Barely visible behind the said equipment was the tiniest of young girls, barely able to see above the handrail, going about her work.
As she pulled up alongside, she politely asked if I needed help — obviously, I look a lot like a bewildered 60-year-old granddad these days — and I explained my predicament.
“I reckon I could get in there,” she said, gesturing to the gap between the immovable pallet and shelf.
Now, as I say, this gap was very tight. I’d have struggled to get a leg in there let alone a useless arm, but before I knew it this wee slip of a young lady had disappeared into the gap completely.
From the other side, I could see she could barely move or bend an elbow, but somehow she managed to retrieve two of the required packages and shimmy her way back out.
Talk about going above and beyond.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I actually needed two more, but somehow she knew.
“Two more?” she inquired with a smile as I nodded sheepishly.
And then she was back in the crevice again going the extra, extra mile.
Once the mission was complete I thanked her for her efforts and watched as she disappeared, back to her proper job, around the end of the aisle.
Just as she went out of sight, back came the tall lad with a mate who showed him how to move the pallet. And he did so with aplomb, parking it a few metres further along with a triumphant “There you go”.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was already sorted so I took another two packages out from the now-clear shelf, thanked him for a job well done and continued on my merry way.
A short while later I was nearing the end of Mrs P’s list when I found myself back in the same aisle.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to the particular item I was after.
Out of all the thousands of items in that particular supermarket on that particular night, guess where the recently shifted pallet had been parked right in front of?
