Mr P goes shopping

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When it comes to matters of dress, of sartorial elegance, I am guilty of the sin of vanity.

Sorry.

There was a pause there while I rescued Mrs P from damaging herself. She was rolling around on the floor in hysterics.

As I was saying, I aspire to a certain elegant casualness in dress. I see that chap 'Kevin', on the telly, designing grandly, and think that that is how I should look. OK he's sort of slim-ish and I am sort of not-ish. And he is just a shade younger than I but, however hard I try, I can never seem to avoid the word "scruffy".

Some time ago, something broke down at work and I elected to walk, each day, to the nearest shopping centre, wait there for 30 minutes while my little problem was solved, and return. This entailed some 2 miles of exercise daily. And, it went on for some two months. Towards the end of this time, I found myself hitching up my trousers as I walked. "Good Heavens" I thought "My waist is shrinking." This seemed to me cause to celebrate. "I shall purchase new trousers." and I smugly decided to buy a size smaller than usual.

Usually I prefer to avoid High Street stores. I buy the few clothes I need in small shops, in the West End of London. But there is one store in this shopping centre where I am happy to buy socks and underwear although I have noticed that they sell other stuff. It occurs to me also that, because they deal more often with the less young, their sizing may be a little more generous. Just in case my optimism is a little exaggerated. I resolved to give them a try. I I began to look forward to my little expedition.

In the Men's department I am confronted by endless serried rails of men's trousers (Which is why I prefer small shops). I persevere and find a pair of cotton trousers termed "Chinos". They will be fine. They are also marked "Buy one pair, get another half-price" I look up and down the row, but for one reason or another I can't find any others I like, and so proceed to the check-out. The trousers are so cheap anyway (£14.99) that it doesn't seem imperative to bargain further. As I approach the maze that obstructs the check-out I spy another small rack of trousers, similar to the ones already chosen, but in a different colour. I choose a pair without checking the price and breezily weave my way up and down the maze until I reach the solitary cashier. I am the only customer.

This particular store are well known for the courtesy of their staff. They generally (when selling socks or underwear) are cheerful, sometimes even happy, and always ready with a bit of repartee. Today my cashier is the exception. She is chewing gum and reading a magazine. I hand over the two trousers. She doesn't look at me. Scans the first. £14.99. Scans the second £0.00. Now she looks up. "Fourenenineynine". (In this part of the country 'T's are often considered superfluous)

"Excuse me," I venture, cautiously. "That pair came up as Nil. There was no price shown."

She studied (is that the right word?) the till carefully. Yep, must be free luv, "Fourenenineynine". (Did you hear that! "Love"!!)

I didn't really know what to do. "Erm... You mean if I just bought those trousers" I indicated the second pair "and not both, they'd be free?"

"Yep" She looked at me, looked at the till, looked at the trousers. She may have been thinking, it was difficult to tell.

"You're not going to make much money like that!" I looked around for someone to share my incredulity with. There was a lady beginning to wend her way through the barriers.

My assistant looked at me with just a hint of menace. "Yougonnabuytheseorwha?" She pressed a button on her desk. As she did so, I caught a glimpse of the price tag. It quite clearly read "£0.00". I still didn't know quite what to do.

A supervisor approached, on the assistant's side of the counter. The lady in the barriers had reached my back, and I caught a glimpse of an elderly man also getting closer. Soon there would be a queue behind me. She, the supervisor, spoke at me. "What's the complaint, love?" (Why am I everyone's lover today?)

"It's not really a complaint" I was feeling nervous, confronted with authority. "It's just that these trousers are scanning as nil, as free, which seems wrong."

She looked at me, looked at the assistant, looked at the trousers, pressed a few buttons on the till, scanned the label of the first pair, which showed up as £14.99 and then the second, which came up as £0.00. "Yes" she said "That's right. Buy one, get one free."

"What if," I spoke slowly and quietly in case those behind me heard "I didn't take that pair?" I indicated the first pair.

She sighed, loudly, "You don't want these?", pressed the refund button and scanned the label. It came up as "-£14.99", correctly.

"So," I said, "I can take this pair, pay you nothing and leave the shop?" I was trying very hard to understand.

She glared at me, picked up the trousers, and walked off into some back office. I looked at the assistant. She looked very bored. I looked at the queue, now four people long, behind me. I mouthed "sorry" at them. The supervisor returned. "Yes" she said, about to put them in a carrier.

Please don't ask me why. I just couldn't do it. "No thank you" I said, and walked out of the store. As I did so, I saw two people leaving the queue, heading for that particular trouser rack.

I have told this tale to others. My sanity has been questioned.





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