TODAY was the infamous Black Friday, the one everybody was talking about last year … the one that should never have happened …
Prior to leaving the house that morning, I had endured a headful of it on the news and social media. Supermarkets all over the UK had descended into anarchy. Tesco’s in particular had grabbed the headlines. Scenes of people in semi-violent clashes for cheap TVs. What was the world coming to?
These images were foremost in my mind when I entered my own local Tesco’s to get a pint of milk and some other necessities. I was in the mood for an animated debate about the evils of consumerism gone mad and bringing Black Friday to the UK in the first place.
So when I approached the server with my basket, I quipped “Aren’t you guys doing Black Friday then?”
Even as I uttered the last consonant, I froze. In the same instant, in the corner of my vision, three pairs of eyes spun round in unison. Three pasty white faces, aghast.
Dead drawn out silence.
The West African girl who had served me flashed me a broad amused smile as if to say “Hey, you walked into that one.”
I opened my mouth to say something – anything – but shut it again before I could do any further damage. I fumbled as I bundled my groceries into my bag, telling myself over and over that it was not my problem they had got the wrong end of the stick, it was theirs. Still, as I scurried past the security guard, I held an imaginary gun to my head and pulled.
Copyright (c) M K MacInnes 2015