ASDA staff caused me to shed tears of what must have been the love of togetherness

Just over a week or so ago I was in ASDA. It was pre-peak stockpiling, but the shelves were already looking ragged, as products were being left in their cardboard boxes because there simply wasn't enough staff to maintain the usual level of service, and so empty boxes lay strewn across the floor beneath.

I'd just popped in to get some essentials:

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2 Dr Oetker Spinach Pizzas

1 bag of Kings Veggie Jerky

1 bottle of Gordon's Gin

1 bottle of Diet Indian Tonic Water

1 Tiger Loaf (reduced to 27p)

1 bag of Haribo Super Mix

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The atmosphere felt a tiny bit apocalyptic, but you could see that the rule of law was still being respected, so aisles were free of bandits and acts of a lawless nature. 

I took the items in my basket to the self-checkout and scanned them through. Owing to my childish features, the ASDA helper woman asked to see proof of my years before running off with haste to remove the security tag on the Gordon's. 

Considering the fact that the demands of her job had forced her to have to stand in close proximity and help thousands of increasingly panic stricken strangers all preparing for something that was unprecedented for them, the ASDA woman looked very chipper and cheerful, but was having to do the job of at least 4 people - darting about the shop floor like a wholesome entertainer at the Queen's Variety Performance, enthralling Her Majesty with her ability to keep as many plates spinning on poles as her small frame could manage.

She came back with my Gordon's and felt compelled to confess she thought I was her daughter's age and not approaching retirement age as my passport had confirmed. We had a little laugh before I popped my essentials in my bag, popped my earphones in my ears and then headed towards the exit.

In the distance, the two security guards who had been seated at the entrance when arrived suddenly got up and began walking towards me. I thought to myself "But I don't even remember robbing anything! Maybe I have a psychological condition which causes me to steal groceries and then erase all memory of doing so??!!"

I quickly checked my bag for tins of peas and sweetcorn or anything else not on my receipt. Everything was accounted for. As I got closer to the security guards I could see now that they were actually both smiling at me and gestering for me to look behind myself. 

My earphones had been pumping some seriously sweet bass grooves into my lug holes so I couldn't hear a single thing going on in the world around me. I pulled them out and turned around and it was the cheerful woman I'd just been having a little laugh with! She'd been trying to get my attention because I'd walked off and left my Kings Veggie Jerky at the self-checkout till! 

I said to her, "Amazing! Thanks for letting me know. I bloody love jerky!". I looked back at the security guards again and they were beaming with pride like they'd just made it possible for a father to be reunited with his long lost son so I thanked them too.

As I walked over to where my bike had been locked up outside, I felt really touched that despite the drastically reduced amount of staff working at ASDA that day, the fact that I should still leave the store with everything I'd paid for mattered enough to these staff members to chase me down and make sure that I got my jerky. The woman could have just said or done  nothing, as so many other shoppers were demanding her time.

I'm not fully sure why, but I did well up a bit riding back home, and wondered why such a frequent and unsurprising event at any other time hadn't moved me like the one that had just taken place.

Some Privileges Only Emerge When You Reach A Certain Age

Some of the privileges I currently have began as things almost everyone starts off with, and only became privileges the longer mine endured.

Like still having hair.

Recently a follically challenged man threw a jibe my way regarding my excessive cranial foliage. He implied that all the hair I got given must have landed in the same spot, and therefore the rest of my body must be mannequin smooth - devoid of all manly hairiness.

I didn't tell him he was right. Instead, I lifted his spirits by recalling the time I thought you could use shower gel as a substitute for hair gel because both products had the word 'gel' in them. I told him how the swagger in my step from showcasing my coiffed afro while ambling through Birkenhead Market soon turned to panicked scurrying as rain caused foam bubbles to suddenly start streaming down my forehead like I was sweating soap. This cheered the man up no end and it looked as though he felt a bit better about being bald.

But as well as those privileges we have which make others resent us, other privileges can sometimes make people pity you and even want to use you as a piece of technology. My height one such versatile example.

Shorter people breath sighs of relief not having to donate their face to rid doorways of ornate spider webs, and feel the wave of good fortune wash over them on the nightclub dance floor, glancing over to see the lone pitiful giant sticking out of the sweaty throng like Herman Munster, dancing like he's 5 feet 6.

But just an hour ago I realised that my height is also a privilege inexhaustible in its ability to not only give my life meaning, but also create a sense of community, bring people together and reaffirm the sentiment that we have to help each other if the world is to run smoothly.

I was in ASDA, again, walking down the soft drinks aisle, had picked up the cheapest drink when an old woman looking a bit embarrassed asked if I would use my height to fetch her a crate of Purdeys from the top shelf. I did and her face lit up! I may have even made a joke about the number of crates I should get down for her.

But it made me think, is this what she has to do every time she goes to ASDA and wants something from the top shelf??? No.... Her shopping trips must take forever and she didn't strike me as the kind of pensioner accustomed to scaling shelves like they were climbing frames.