Visiting a supermarket is a truly delightful experience. At the entrance I look for a clean basket. I get to browse at leisure the neatly arranged shelves with their colourful contents. Almost everything from safety pin to refrigerator are enticingly displayed, tempting me to buy each and every one of them. It is another matter that I always end up buying more than what I intended to. I start with a basket in hand, and as the shopping progresses I invariably look out for a trolley. I put the basket in the trolley and continue.
In India the trollies are freely available at the entrance to the market. Once while shopping abroad I was taken aback. To obtain a trolley I had to insert a coin to release its lock. That looked like an outrageous idea to me, infringing on one of my fundamental rights. However I meekly inserted the coin, since I did not know the local language to register my protest. (Got the coin back when I returned the trolley to its dock.)
The beginning of my journey into the supermarket with a large empty trolley delights my heart. The sheer thought of all the things and goodies which would soon fill it, would always soothe my brain. For a moment I take in deeply the distinct aroma of the supermarket, which is a pleasant blend of edible and non-edible things and the air-fresheners in the air.
Some customers find it convenient to seat their children in the trolley. It keeps them under their watchful eyes and prevents them from scampering around and spoiling the joy of shopping. The children are happy because they get a commanding view and also get to eye shelves at levels which they can never get to see otherwise. It is important for the parents to keep the trolley a few feet away from the shelves, for obvious reasons. It is fun to see the child often craning and twisting to have a grab of the shopped items, while mummy is engrossed in her favourite pastime. As the shopping progresses there is a chance of the child being brought out, in order to accommodate more items in the trolley. If the child throws a tantrum, then a colourful candy will end up in the child's mouth and a second cart may be needed to seat the troubled kid.
When a family shops together, the most inactive shopper will have the responsibility of pushing the shopping cart and trudging behind or waiting, while the others bring their packets and things and dump them in the waiting four-wheeler and order the 'pusher' to arrange things in a compact fashion. The trolley-pusher who is in a state of physical inertia often has a good opportunity to observe shoppers and their varied and often amusing behaviour — 'shoppertainment'. If everyone in the family is active in shopping, then the four-wheeler is parked in a central location. Some shoppers unceremoniously park their vehicles in the central passage, forgetting basic trolley manners. Some careless ones bump their trollies into me, not even apologising for their ‘unsupermarketly' behaviour. Absent-minded customers sometimes roll away my cart, and return it after I remind them.
Young couples would always be found fondly pushing the trolley together. They are often unmindful of the crowd and the din around them. In the case of middle-aged couples the husband usually is the one who pushes the heavy cargo-laden vehicle, thanks to the wife, who feverishly disappears behind every shelf, lost in the material world. Elderly shoppers find the trolley doubling up as a walker to assist their aching knees. I have never come across anyone getting fed up during shopping. Everyone look glad and at peace with themselves. Families look united and happy for being together, during this leisure activity. New research suggests that shopping does have benefits for one’s personal well-being: “Retail Therapy: It Works!”
As the items fill up, there is a risk of overflow and of delicate vegetables and fruits getting crushed. Shopping for frozen items should be kept for the last lap as they sweat and hence drench other packets, which can turn out to be a messy affair. The larger objects and packages occupy a lot of space and protrude out at awkward angles. I don't know why trolleys are not solid-walled. A toothbrush or a pen or a broom may protrude precariously through the gaps. Who would have imagined 25 years ago that people could load whole television sets into shopping carts and take them home in no time. Under the weight of the load, some cart-wheels may give way.
Towards the end, pushing a shopping cart through the crowd becomes an art by itself. For the tired ones, there is no chance of finding a seat. The store-owners ensure that all are always on their feet. At these times I envy children who seem to enjoy every moment sitting in the trolley.
It is strange to see some folks with a near-empty trolley after all the time they have spent in the hypermarket. The actual reason is anybody’s guess. Once in the middle of shopping I discovered that I had neither cash nor card. To save the embarrassment, I abandoned the half-filled cart in the middle of the supermarket. The thought of returning each and every item back to their respective shelves was unimaginable to my wife. Something like a ‘shopping reversal’ — ‘a nightmare for a supermartoholic’. On more than one occasion, on seeing the long queue for billing I abandoned my trolley and hurriedly exited. It was getting late for the movie in the same mall. Once it so happened that after the movie when I came back, my cart was still in the place I left it, with all the things I had collected intact. I developed an instant emotional connect with my faithful companion and gave it a hug. I then proceeded to the billing counters.
The process of billing is a challenge in many ways. I survey all the counters to identify the apparently shortest one. However, this never works to my advantage, as the ‘law of queues’ always works. The queue I am in always seems to move the slowest. Rather, the queues on either side of mine appear to move faster than mine. It is wise to forget all this psychology and kinetic physics and join any line. Waiting is inevitable.
If at all I get into a line with no problems encountered, I should consider myself privileged and blessed. My lines often had the least experienced and most talkative billing clerks. The computer would hang. The bar code scanner would sense inconsistently. The card reader would take ages to receive and print, and on some still worse days the paper in the printer would run out and need replacement. A muscular guy ahead of me would have plenty of doubts regarding the bill. He would have 57 discount coupons to redeem, each with a value of 3 rupees and 19 paise. His wife would continue filling his trolley even as the billing progresses. I would ‘look’ at him and he would raise his eyebrows and shrug his shoulders, as if saying “I don't know her”.
The final moment of truth arrives. My turn to bill. At that moment a smart young girl would plead with me to give way for her as she has only six items to bill. My becoming a magnanimous uncle would make aunty's nose and eyes turn red. The clerk looks at me with a faint 'Is it OK?' expression and I agree, daring not to think about the marital consequences just after I step out. I quickly grab a colourful chewing gum and give it to aunty in order to keep her mouth busy.
The energetic billing clerk taps her screen rapidly. She is kind enough to say that one of the items I purchased has got a 50 gm vermicelli packet free. My happiness is akin to winning the jackpot. The trolley is rapidly emptied of its contents, only to be refilled with full-term pregnant plastic packets. I rejoice at the savings I have made by shopping to my heart’s content. The troubles I underwent were nothing in comparison to the joy I experienced. The long bill which often reaches the floor, is picked up by the security guard for checking.
Once done, I make my way to the car park pushing the worthy cart. My wife would suddenly remember that she had forgotten to buy a matchbox and insist that we go back. I act as if I have not heard her. The trolley is unloaded and then abandoned in a dark and isolated section of the basement car park. As I bid goodbye to my lonely friend, I can take comfort that it will soon be grouped with its own kind. They will then be pushed like a train by the mall attendant, back into the supermarket.
I just can’t imagine a life without supermarket trolleys. Thanks to Sylvan Goldman and Orla Watson, for inventing and designing them. These shining steely carts play a strong role in our lives by relieving the load off our shoulders. Even though at least one popular online shopping site has the trolley as its logo, the sheer mental happiness derived by physically pushing the trolley in the middle of an attractive supermarket, engaging in this lovely hobby called 'shopping', is supreme. Online shopping deprives us of these mental and physical pleasures. These useful trollies will continue to ably help shopaholics in their pursuit of shopping bliss.
May the shopping gods bless you, the supermarket trolley. May your wheels and body stay in good health! I will recommend you for the Vehicle of the Year (VOTY) Award.
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