another bit of checkout chick…

Here’s the next instalment of Checkout Chick. Click the link above to read the full story so far.



Checkout Chicks are like builders (own homes never finished). Cannot abide grocery shopping. Wonder if prostitutes have similar problem – come home from night of sex, takes one look at boyfriend and says, no thank you, have been fucking all day. Particularly hate shopping at work. If you’re in the store you’re on call. Once when doing weekly shop and heard own name being called over PA. ‘Denni, please open checkout two. Denni.’ Mass of customers in queues, vast queues, looking around to see where this so-called Denni was. Lazy, they’re thinking. We’re standing around waiting to be served and she’s not at her checkout where she should always be. I appear, carting trolley. ‘Am finished. No longer working.’ Sue, second in charge, didn’t seem to care. Nor did customers. I cared. Had chocolate chip ice cream in my trolley. Only reason that lines were so long is because Slow Sarah was on duty. Have tried to tell Mel a number of times – when you roster Slow Sarah onto a shift you need an extra person.

Could go to other supermarket in town, of course, but that would be silly. No discount there. And what’s the point of working on checkout unless you can get a ten percent discount? No point, no point at all.

Have banned Paddy from shopping expeditions. He’s too slow. Wants to look at everything. Is especially interested in items with a reduced-to-clear sticker. Is odd because he’ll then go and spend five dollars extra on a particular box of muesli. We also argue on milk – Paddy thinks is okay to by home brand yet I always refuse. Know for a fact (as many of them are customers) that Dairy Farmers (brand) pay dairy farmers (farmers) more for milk than anyone else. Support those who support the community, I say. Also we argue over milk size. For whatever reason I cannot poor milk from a two litre bottle. When making nightly after-dinner drinks (tea or hot chocolate for Paddy, instant coffee for me) there is much swearing from kitchen as milk is spilled. What is wrong with cartons anyway? Simple ingenious device. Why mess with it? Plus spout offers perfect pouring solution.

We also have difference of opinion on paper towels (me expensive doesn’t-break-up-when-wet Handy Ultra variety and Paddy, home brand) as well as toilet paper. We both agree on the thick but soft sturdy stuff but Paddy likes the scented variety where as I am adamant that perfumes and such like are not good for my lady bits.

Often shopping is undertaken on Sunday’s when Paddy is at church. he complains about non-involvement before realising he has bacon and a full packet of Tim Tams in the fridge and reluctantly agrees that I’d done an okay job on the task.

Question – what did we do as a nation before Tim Tams? Am sure they’re not always been around – yes? What other chocolate-filled and chocolate-coated biscuits satisfied us beforehand? For the life of me cannot think of one. Don’t think there’s ever been an occasion when there wasn’t Tim Tams in the pantry.



Am on leave. No checkout chicking for me. Not going away or anything, and is just for a week. Is forced on me. Have got too much holiday pay. Suppose big-wigs in head office have an alarm that goes off once someone reaches a certain point. Red flashing lights and all. Fear is that if I quit there’s a lot of jingle they have to pay out to me. Would rather it not happen. Am not going to be that person. That person. The poor sod who has no life outside of the supermarket and therefore goes into work to chat to everyone. No. Hate the place. Hate my job. Why would I want to go there?


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Filed under Checkout Chick, Fiction

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