I hate Mondays because I have to say goodbye to Weng. I hate grocery shopping on Monday mornings because that's when all the mothers bring their screaming kids to the supermarket to shop with them. I don't have a thing against kids, I just don't like them when they're throwing a fit. Other times I hate shopping include weekend mornings when senior citizens cluster around the reduced section like a flock of vultures.
There's also the chance that you won't make it out of there alive when you run the risk of getting run over by shopping trolleys as their owners diligently study their shopping lists. Crashing into baskets at knee height is also really painful, and all you get in reward is an angry stare or a blank 'whadja go en do that for?'.
After braving the melee and finding the aisle you want after walking past it five or six times, they're sold out, and you have to settle for a dodgy looking substitute. Ask any of the staff "Do you have any more..." and it's a sullen shake of the head before they go back to their overly intellectual task of stacking empty boxes.
Then it's off to the checkout, and your line will always always be the slowest despite having half the number of people standing in it with three or four items a piece, but all you can do is stand there hoping to get your groceries through before the dawn of the new millennium.
I also really hate cranky employees, especially when they've been on the shift too long. It's bad enough that you're at their mercy on the checkout line, but when your card gets rejected or when you want to make a five pound payment with the offending card, they've got you praying that they won't make a scene in front of the other fifty equally agitated shoppers and attract a hundred dirty looks your way.
To escape is to breathe a massive sigh of relief.
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