Last week I carried a
basket of groceries and a number of clothes items to the cashier in Dunnes
Stores. “Do you want a bag?” she asks. “A paper bag,” I say (they’re usually
free). “Paper bags are for drapery only. How many bags do you want?” she says. This
is a difficult question to answer. It assumes that one has the ability to very
quickly calculate the combined volume of one’s shopping items and cross-reference
that figure with the estimated volume of the bag.
I quickly try to do the
maths. But time is my enemy. I can feel the shoppers behind me in the queue. I
presume they think I am a complete cretin. “I’ll have one please,” I proffer.
Beads of sweat begin to gather on my brow as I see the bag filling up, with many
items yet to be accounted for.
What are the potential
solutions to the bag problem?
Firstly, one could
invest in a “Bag for Life”. This is a bag that you will have a relationship
with for the rest of your life. It is expensive and durable. It is a commitment
that one should not enter into lightly. It is rendered useless if one doesn’t
have it on their person at all times. Shopping trips are often off the cuff
decisions. At 29 years of age, I am not sure that I am ready for this level of
dedication to a bag. Just as puppies are not merely for Christmas, neither are
Bags for Life.
Secondly, one can try
to befriend the cashier. Achieving this can have long-term benefits, especially
if you choose the same cashier every time you shop. If he or she likes you,
they may waive the bag levy as a goodwill gesture. I began this process a few
days ago with my Tesco cashier. On reaching the conveyor belt I clocked her
name badge. “Good evening Sinead,” I say with a big smile. The danger in using
the employee’s name is that most people don’t usually do it. The name badge is
simply a redundant formality. Therefore
it can be construed as a little unsettling for the cashier. She looked uneasy
but I think she warmed to me when I told her that the uniform enhanced her
figure. I finished off with a flourish: “Thanks Sinead, you really are Tesco’s
Finest”. She hasn’t given me a free bag yet but I am confident it will happen
soon. Next week when she asks me if I have a clubcard, I will say “Oh yes,
every little helps Sinead”.
There is one last
option: forfeit the bag entirely. This removes any bag-related confusion. It
can also help build an image of yourself as a green urbanite. In response to
the perennial question “Do you want a bag?” one simply purrs, “Oh no, I don’t
do bags”, as you gingerly scoop up your items and carry them off into the
distance. Trepidation is required however. I was a little too ambitious when I
tried it, Lloyd Grossman crashing to the floor, thus heralding the kind of attention
which I had been trying to avoid. Not only was everyone staring at me but then
it was broadcast over the tannoy. “Spillage at exit three. Schnell, schnell!”
Finally, after all my
efforts, I found a solution. Online shopping. Done.
