Why Shopping is for The Birds

Remind me never to go shopping on Pension Day.

I thought I was being clever, didn't I, dropping the kids at school then heading to the local Aldi supermarket nice and early to get the shopping done.

Bad move.

Oh it was all well and good when I drove into the underground carpark just before 9am, easily found a park, and proceeded to the lift with my carry bags (good little green shopper that I am).

As soon as the elevator doors opened I felt as if I’d stepped into an Alfred Hitchcock film.

About 400 eyes silently swung my direction, as I came face to face with the combined elderly of three surrounding suburbs, all waiting for the day’s trading to begin.

Realising there was another good 10 minutes or more before the doors would open and the crowd could fight their way inside to all the weekly specials, I backed away quietly, keeping my eyes on the mob of shoppers before me all the while, and reached around behind to hit the ‘down’ arrow on the lift.

Whispering “I’ll come back later” to no one in particular, I stepped inside and pushed the button for the basement floor as hard as I could (why do we do that, by the way, it doesn’t make the doors close any faster, now does it).

Safely ensconced in my car once again, and talking about it with my friend on the ‘phone, we agreed it was like that scene in “The Birds” when the actors walk carefully through the eerie quiet of the assembled flock, afraid to make the one wrong move that would startle them into a feathered frenzy.

And as I drove out of the carpark, avoiding the assortment of vehicles trying to make their way in, I breathed a sigh of relief at my close call.

I realised my error, of course, during the course of the conversation with my friend (who found my predicament highly hilarious, because it hadn’t happened to her on this occasion) that today was the day that the Centrelink benefits had gone into bank accounts. Furthermore, it was the start of a brand new catalogue at the shops, so every man and his dog was out to bag a bargain.

Since we don’t seem to get a lot of those catalogues (which is a real mystery to me, since every other home around ours gets theirs every week- I suspect my Beloved has something to do with their disappearance) I have no idea what was so special about this week’s Specials; and as I don’t qualify for any regular payment from the government, for me no day is better than any other to get the groceries.

Now, because we really do need milk and other items, I filled in some time by topping up the fuel tank, took a walk through a local caryard (still on my quest to find a better vehicle than the one I’m driving now) and went back around the block to try my luck again at Aldi. Instead of being any better, it was now pure chaos, as little old men in the world’s smallest hatchbacks were stopped right in the middle of the road without warning, waiting for a chance to pull into a park and get their daily bread and other bargains.

It was no better at the next supermarket I went to, or the one after that, as it appears that old-age pensioners were making the most of the winter sunshine and their fortnightly payment, and were out in force everywhere I went.

So home I came, sans essential items, and had a much-needed cup of coffee (black, mind you).

And now I will watch the clock and wait until it’s almost time to do the afternoon school run before I venture out again. Because I have found from past experiences, if there’s one thing almost guaranteed to clear the roads and the shops of grandparents, it’s kids! And quite frankly, they scare me a whole lot less.

Oh by the way, for those who are worried I’m being disrespectful to our elders, rest assured that I ran this blog by my mum first (an expert in that particular field). Amid her laughter, she gave me her standard response to things like this: “You’ll be like it yourself one day.” And that, perhaps, is the scariest thing of all!
;-)

Jx
©2009