May I have your job please

I used to have a high paid job [not at Tesco] and I did it very well (until a merger resulted in one of two of us being surplus to requirements, and the higher paid one went).

I'd quite like a new job [though not necessarily with Tesco]. Pretty much any job would be better than the job I've currently got [though that might not be true if the putative employer were to be, say Tesco]. But the job I'd really like is that of the sad little herbert in Tesco own version of Grocery Towers who spends his (or her) working life monitoring the gibbering and ranting of what I believe is known as the blogosphere. Just the mention of Tesco causes a little blip in my hit rate.

So hello, sad little herbert in Tesco Towers feeding the paranoia of those who run the company. And by the way all the staff at the nearby Tesco do nothing but complain about all the many and very obvious problems with your new (so called) semi-self-service tills. And a lot of the customers are no happier. Nobody at all as a positive word for the tills. Even my techno-clued up daughter thinks they're weird.

Well done, muppets.

A shoddy work man blames...

The transient proportion of our population inhabit a delusional universe wherein our fairly new local Tesco 'Express' is civilisation's last remnant. For these people the preponderance of ready meals, snacks and cheap (and very nasty) swill lager on the few shelves merely serves to reinforce this belief.

Perhaps some locals greeted the news of the imminent arrival of Mighty T enthusiastically; most have long since returned to one or other of the other supermarkets in town, tails between their legs after taking on board what a shoddy offering a Tesco Express really is. In truth it isn't much more than a tacky corner shop, offering junk at inflated prices.

Imagine the consternation though when Mighty T shut its doors in the face of die-hards for a refit. A refit? We went over, just to be nosey, when they reopened a little later than scheduled in the early evening. They'd imported labour to carry out most of the work, but the shelves were only half full, and staff were all complaining at being left in the lurch. The greengrocery offering has been reduced, the lager offering has been extended, the fresh bakery has been tarted up but acutally reduced and they've replaced the tills while bringing the total number up one to five.

Last night the staff were complaining about how the 'manned' (personed?) tills are uncomfortable to use. This morning someone in a suit was fiddling with the self-service tills, setting them up presumably so that they can be used. Each time he pressed a button on the machine he was in front of it let out an ear-splitting, headache inducing squeal.

The student part-timer serving me from behind the adjacent till made a remark about how irritating the noise would be.

"You'll not notice it after a couple of days", Suit replied. How charming. Not "I'll reduce the decibel level." or "I can replace that tone with something a little less unpleasing."

You're a trained monkey, and we know that trained monkeys will tolerate anything given enough time.