Tag: shops

7 Reasons I Won’t Be Using The Self-Checkout Machines At My Local Supermarket

I’m not totally against self-checkout machines or progress, but the ones at my local supermarket have turned shopping into a living hell*. Here’s why I won’t be using them.

1. They’re Confusing. Now I’m not a man easily confused by technology. I can put together websites that almost work and look good; I can write HTML and CSS code and I can do things to the inside of PCs too. And given that the self-checkout systems are supposed to be a user-friendly interface that are accessible to people with little tech-savvy or confidence, you might expect that I’d be able to use them easily. But they’re bewildering. Not in and of themselves, but because they are located in a packed group of self-checkouts in a very small space going through different stages of the transaction but bellowing instructions at their customer in the same identical voice. “Please scan your first item”. Wait, what! I’m on my third. “Please replace the item in the bagging area”. What! I haven’t removed the item from the bagging area. “Please wait for assistance.” Assistance? To scan a jar of cloves? How daft do I look? Having a row of three machines with only one voice is idiotic. It’s like having a third member of Jedward.

2. Buying Alcohol Becomes Difficult. Occasionally** I like to buy some beer or wine. This is not a straightforward purchase at the self-checkout because a light suddenly flashes above your machine (sadly no klaxon) and a member of staff has to come over to approve your purchase. I have no problem with that whatsoever (except that I haven’t been asked for ID for about two years now); I hold a personal licence to sell alcohol myself. I have a problem with the amount of time it wastes when I’m shopping in a small store. Both mine, and that of the person who has to verify that I’m over eighteen. Because at my local shop…

3. When You Need Assistance Everything Comes To A Halt. In my local supermarket, no matter how busy it gets, the staff working at the manned tills are the ones that have to come over to verify age, remove security tags or deal with the halfwit that’s wondering where the barcode is on a lime, at the self-checkout. They have to abandon their tills – once they’ve finished dealing with their current customer – leaving you waiting for them to do that, and while they’re dealing with you, there’s a queue of people waiting for the staff member to come back to deal with them. This annoys everyone. This means that far from being an efficient system that eases the burden on the staff, they end up spending much of their time travelling between the checkout and the self-checkout and when they are dealing with customers, those customers are ill-tempered. Essentially their working lives are spent rushing around placating a mob. They aren’t even equipped with truncheons or tall hats.

4. The Machine Tells You Off If You Move Anything. This is annoying at any self-checkout but, when added to the other frustrations in a small store it becomes infuriating. The bagging area is tiny and the chances are that you’re probably buying more than one thing. But if – during your game of bagging area jenga – you move anything in the bagging area, the checkout (or possibly the one next to it, who knows?) bellows at you to replace it. I don’t go to a supermarket to play a game in which I am forced to balance an assortment of dissonantly shaped objects on a small space while being bellowed at by a robot. If I wanted to play that game, I’d go to a Japanese television studio.

5. The Machine Is Patronising. Once all the “fun” is over and you’ve paid for everything you were able to balance successfully in the bagging area and you’ve received your receipt (and twelve others), you start taking your items. And, at some point while you’re doing that, the machine will bellow “please take your items” at you. But you don’t need to be asked to do this because firstly, you’re already doing it and secondly – unless you’ve been kidnapped by a band of Gododdin tribesman and held prisoner for the past 1500 years or so – you’ll be aware of how the concept of a shopping transaction works and you’ll already know that once you’ve paid for your items you should take them with you. And that’s probably when you’ll snap.

6. Other Shoppers Will Look At You Strangely When You Argue With It. “I know! I bloody know! Of course I’m going to take my sodding items you authoritarian automaton! That’s what I came here for! I didn’t come here to give you money and then just leave my goods, that would be cretinous! I wholly understand that if I leave this lime here with you then when I get home there will be no lime in my gin and tonic. I get that! I want the lime!” It’s much like the modern tradition of arguing with the sat-nav in the car, except that in the car there isn’t a line of slack-jawed people backing away from you and shielding their children from Disproportionately-Angry-Man. Or if there is, you’re a bus driver.

7. Human interaction. I just like people. I want to deal with a person: Not an exhausted, defensive person whose shift has been spent in the service of an infernal machine and in placating the bewildered, the angry and the truculent but a person that is relaxed and at ease in their environs and with their customers. But I can’t because of the machines. I miss the happy people that the self-checkout machines have turned into the dejected and the unsmiling. After all, if I wanted to be scowled at and resented I could just stay at home.

*Okay, an unpleasant experience.

**On almost every occasion.

June 6, 2011
7 Reasons to Shop With 7 Reasons

You’ve laughed with us, you’ve cried with us, you’ve watched us, you’ve read us, you’ve heard us, you’ve written for us, you’ve tweeted with us, you’ve got engaged with us, you’ve had a baby with us and probably other stuff too. And now, in a new and exciting development, you can shop with 7 Reasons. And here are seven reasons that you should.

1. Be Unique. Everyone wants to feel distinctive, unique and a bit special. And, if you purchase a 7 Reasons t-shirt, the chances are very high that it will actually be unique. After all, how many people are you likely to bump into in your local pub wearing the same Haystack Poking Patrol t-shirt as you? And even in the unlikely event that you did meet someone else in a pub wearing that same t-shirt, you could just say, “Hello Marc” and I’d probably buy you a beer. You’ll be unique or you’ll get beer. That sounds like a good deal.

2. To Marvel At The Emporium. The 7 Reasons team have (amongst other things) expertise in web design and the retail sector. You might think that this would make putting together an online shop easy. But you’d be wrong. Because in typical 7 Reasons style, the one with the retail background did the web design and the one with the web design background is in charge of the retail side of things (and did everything else). So if it does crash or start randomly giving away free merchandise you’ll be there to witness/benefit.

3. Because Our Wares Are Really Jolly Good. I didn’t have anything to do with the design of the lemon t-shirt (God or Darwin, depending on your viewpoint, designed the lemon and Jonathan Lee did the rest), so I can say this. It’s bloody brilliant. Look at it! Just look at it! It’s really a beautiful piece of design. It’s a pop-art pie-chart in lemon. Who wouldn’t want to wear that, other than the abjectly wrong and gits? No one.

4. Innovation. Because the product range will grow as we think of more things to add. We’re already looking into producing 7 Reasons Inspirational Beer-Mats, calendars and fridge-magnets, so you’ll never know what you might find there: A 7 Reasons horse; a 7 Reasons handbag; a 7 Reasons his and his voodoo doll set; a replica 7 Reasons sofa. Anything. Or if you don’t find what you want, you might eventually, because…

5. We’re interactive. We can’t think of everything. We’ve tried and have gotten distracted by girls and tiramisu and things. But we love great ideas and, if you’ve thought of something you’d like to see in the 7 Reasons shop that isn’t there, you can email us and, if we think it’s a good idea, we’ll look into making it. And we’ll probably put your name on it too, unless it’s something really small – or embarrassing – in which case we won’t. Or if you have a really long name like Bartholomew Constantine Washington Penderghast the third, we might not. But if you’re called Jennifer Aniston we definitely will, and that’s a promise.

6. Incentive. Has any other website ever encouraged you to invade a country? Yes, probably, but only evil ones. We’re nice chaps though, and we’d like to encourage a more benign, civilised, conquest: So the first five readers that are photographed standing atop the Eiffel Tower waving a Union Flag and wearing one of our France Invasion t-shirts will get the money they spent on the t-shirt refunded.*

7. Because We’re Very Excited. So excited, in fact, that we spent a couple of hours putting this post together about our shop and forgot to include a link to it. So here it is (this is the link). Now go and shop till you drop! Or at least until your arms are very full and you feel a little faint.**

*We can sometimes tell the difference between the Blackpool and Eiffel towers and we’re also quite good at spotting things that have been photoshopped so no tomfoolery, please.

**I – Marc – would like to thank my colleague Jonathan Lee for all of the effort that he put into the shop and the merchandise (and for fielding slightly ranty emails about World War Two font styles and spacing without ever losing his cool). Never let it be said that he doesn’t work very, very hard indeed.

April 8, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: It’s Cake!
Hello 7 Reasons readers! It’s Marc here and today, dear readers, we would like you to make a cake. This cake.

It’s Oxfam’s Easy Lime and Ginger Cheesecake, the recipe for which comes from my local Oxfam Bookshop’s brilliant blog . The recipe calls for the use of Fairtrade Stem Ginger Cookies and, when you go to your nearest Oxfam shop to buy them, you’ll be giving money to a worthwhile cause. That’s right readers, by making and eating an ethically sourced cheesecake (unless you buy mascarpone sourced from warmongering cheesemongers) you’ll be helping a good cause in an ethical way. In fact, if we can all make and eat enough cheesecake, we can probably save the world, and I’ll be trying very hard. Here’s the achingly simple recipe as published by Oxfam Books, Petergate York:

Easy Lime and Ginger Cheesecake
- Serves 4
- Prep time: 15 min
- Chilling time: 30 min
- Basically, in 45 minutes you’re in business.
Ingredients
- 200g pack of Fairtrade stem ginger cookies, crushed
- 50g butter, melted
- 500g mascarpone cheese (they usually come in 250g tubs, so get two of these)
- 40g icing sugar, sifted
- Finely grated zest and juice of two limes
Method

1. Mix together the crushed biscuits and melted butter (I also like to add a bit of sugar to my cheesecake bases to make them a bit jazzier) and press into the bottom of an 18cm (7inch) spring-sided or loose-bottomed cake tin.

2. Place the mascarpone cheese, icing sugar, lime zest and juice in a bowl and beat together. Spread this mixture over the biscuit base.

3. Put it in the fridge and chill for 30 min! That’s really it.

That’s the entire recipe. It’s basically spreading cheese on biscuits and it’s so simple that absolutelyanyone should be able to make it. And now we’re going to demonstrate that even people with no food preparation skills, knowledge or aptitude can follow this recipe. I’m going to hand you over to my writing partner: A man whose culinary education began and ended with learning how to boil water for tea: A man who – before he moved to Kent – was known as The Fulham Poisoner: A man whose litany of culinary disasters includes failing at defrosting a chicken and the hospitalisation of a flatmate*. He’s going to make a cheesecake himself and feed it to his fiancé Claire – a renowned and accomplished maker of cakes – who will judge it on appearance, texture and taste (should she survive). Here’s Jon.

“It was only when I was standing in the queue that I realised I had been well and truly duped. The idea of making a cheesecake and then eating it had originally sounded like a good idea, which is why I had agreed. Marc had, after all, said all it required was a spare half hour. In my book, that’s a fair exchange for cake. But as I stood there I realised it had already been twenty-five since I had left home and I hadn’t even purchased the ingredients. There was no way I could make a cheesecake in five minutes. Not there. And then I got to the till. Which is when I realised this idea was also going to cost me money. Just short of £5 in fact. That’s a lot to spend just to have something to write about. I couldn’t help but think if I had managed the past year and a half writing without having to pay for the privilege, why did this have to change? I trudged home.

Having spread the ingredients in front of me and read the recipe, I realised this was the exact same cheesecake that Claire makes. And she makes it very well. Brilliant. So I’ve had to walk all the way the shops, spend the best part of a fiver on ingredients and now I am challenging my future wife by making one of her specialities. Perturbed, I carried on. Twenty minutes later I was left staring at the following creation:

Making it was something of a doddle. What was not a doddle was the washing up. I don’t know how often you zest a lime, but cleaning the zesting part of the grater is quite possibly a harder job than watching England play cricket. Still, an hour later I was done. I also had lime poisoning from licking the bowl.

The next part of this project – and that is very much what it had become – was to get Claire to profer her opinion. These are the results of the Claire survey.

On Appearance: “That looks nice.”

On Texture: “It’s nice.”

On Taste: “That was very nice”.

So there we have it. I make nice cheesecakes. I am sure your Sunday just got a whole lot better with that news.”

*Which he denies.**

**Falsely.

***As Oxfam Books, Petergate York would (and actually did) tell you themselves, remember the whole point of this recipe is that it is a Fairtrade recipe. So help the global community during this Fairtrade Fortnight (and after) by buying Fairtrade goods as much as you can.
March 6, 2011
7 Reasons That Carrier Bags are Baffling

The carrier bag might seem like a rudimentary bit of kit. Basic, functional, easy to understand. But it isn’t. Carrier bags are, in fact, among the most baffling things known to humankind. And by humankind, I mean me. Here are seven reasons why:

1. Because I Have Hands. People in shops are endlessly, needlessly trying to force carrier bags on me. But I don’t want one most of the time. Often, I’m just buying one or two items. And I don’t need a carrier bag in that circumstance. How many hands does it take to carry a single item? One. How many hands does it take to carry a bag containing a single item? One. So I don’t need a bloody bag, do I? It’s not difficult. And I already have a bag; it’s that thing I’m wearing over my shoulder that looks like a bag. But despite having both hands and bags, I am continually pestered to take the things. And I don’t know why.

2. Because They’re Everywhere. I always try not to take carrier bags, but despite this, my kitchen is full of the things. And every time I go in there, there are more of them. I don’t know how – or when – the rise of the bags began, but they are inexorably usurping our cooking space. We started off, like everyone does, with a bag of bags, and now we have at least a bag of bag of bag of bag of bags. Well, more than one, actually.

3. Because I Don’t Know What To Do With The Things. You might think this is the point where I’m going to make a few humorous and bizarre speculations on what one might do with a glut of carrier bags, but no, I’m not going to do that. This is because I’m totally bewildered and overwhelmed by my surfeit of them. I have no more idea of what to do with all the bags in the kitchen than I would have of what to do with a large, glittery, singing horse called Jemima in my dining room. Less, in fact. Or fewer?

4. Because Of Chavs. It seems that the only people that have any idea of what to do with used carrier bags are chavs. They put them over the seats of their rusty mountain bikes and tie them down to the seat-post. All of them do this. But I have no idea why. It’s not to keep their bottoms dry because they never remove the bag; even after rain. It’s a further level of bafflement.

5. Because They’re Not In The Same Condition I Left Them In. Occasionally, a rare and wondrous event occurs: I realise that I’m going to have to carry some presents to a friend’s house, or I’m going for a walk in the countryside and there might be blackberries to pick, and I find that I will actually need a carrier bag. And then I excitedly perform a brief, joyous dance – a bit like a jig – while singing repeatedly “I’m going to get rid of a bag, I’m going to get rid of a bag…” to the tune of A Life on the Ocean Wave. But when I come to use them, I discover that at least 50% of the bags are torn. But they weren’t torn when I put them into the bag of bag of bag of bag of bag of bags. So what the hell has happened to them in the meantime? Do they fight?

6. Because People Lie About Them. It’s not just that they’re all over my kitchen, mocking and taunting me, and confounding my every attempt to get rid of them that I find them baffling. It’s that people actively lie to us about the things. Don’t use carrier bags, environmentalists tell us; it’s wasteful; a lot of resources are used up in their manufacture; they don’t grow on trees. But this just isn’t true. Carrier bags do grow on trees. I’ve seen them. Just go outside and look at any urban tree and you’ll see the carrier bags growing on it. And we’re obviously using far fewer carrier bags than the trees are producing, because we’re not harvesting them with any regularity. That’s why there’s still a Woolworths bag growing in a tree near my house. Even though they went bust bloody ages ago.

7. Because Of The Holes. We all know why there’s a hole at the top of the bag. It’s to punish people that are stupid enough to try to put baguettes into them. But no one knows why there are holes at the bottom. Are they drainage holes? Is it a government conspiracy to prevent us from moving water about easily? Is it to prevent suffocation of animals, small children and Members of Parliament? Is it to stop me from inflating the things and then bursting them (with hilarious consequences)? Is it just to confuse us? Well, if it is, it’s working.

October 12, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Live In Lagos

Elbowing us out of the way and lounging on our sofa this week is photographer and all round nice gal, Sarah Ansell. Having lived and worked in Lagos between 1995-98 who better to tell us why to live there? Well, maybe someone who lives there right now, but we don’t know any of those. Obviously these reasons are based on her experiences of life there a few years ago and so they may not be an accurate reflection of life there in 2010. But no one is really bothered about that are they? You can view Sarah’s showcase of work over at SarahCanterbury.com. It is well worth the visit.

1. A greater tolerance of the M25. Once you’ve cleared the joy that is Murtala Mohammed International Airport, the first thing that strikes you about Lagos is the driving. And I use that word in its very loosest sense. Go-Slows (their wonderful name for traffic jams) are the norm and as for adhering to something akin to a Highway Code, pah! No such thing! It’s each man (or in my case, woman) for him(her)self. Don’t worry about the direction the traffic is meant to be facing – see a space, take it! Add to this all sorts of delights: habitual fuel shortages; attempting to drive through black fumes churned out by ancient vehicles liable to shed exhaust pipes at any moment (MOTs? Hahaha!); avoiding rust heaps abandoned at the side of the road; passengers leaping on and off buses; road sellers trying to talk you in to that must-have plastic toilet seat purchase; beggars on skateboards; and the occasional dead body (sadly I kid you not). As if this wasn’t enough, all is accompanied by the din of a thousand car horns. The M25 is a doddle after this.

2. Communing with nature. For lovers of wildlife, Lagos is a quite marvellous place to get up close and personal with creatures in a manner you could only dream of back home in Britain. There’s nothing quite like opening your pencil drawer at work and seeing a frantic scurrying of cockroaches to sharpen your hand-eye coordination and speed up those reflexes. Ditto the reaction time on seeing a rat run across your sitting room to hide behind the bookcase when you’re home alone at 10.30 on a Friday night. Or any night for that matter. Also, where else could you have a real live gecko as a wall ornament in your dining room? Lagos is also an excellent place in which to overcome silly phobias – no longer do I run shrieking from teeny tiny spiders (or even the big ones), but embrace them with equanimity. Well, not literally embrace them or they would get squashed and I’d suffer from spider murdering guilt. I should pay homage here, too, to the humble mosquito. Ah, the fun of being awakened from your slumbers by that distinctive whiny noise and having to go into full on Rambo attack mode with a rolled-up newspaper while you’re still half asleep. That’s assuming, of course, that you can locate the bugger.

3. An appreciation of the finer things in life. Baths with clear water in which you are not perched on grains of brown rust doubling as a makeshift mat. Electricity that works (for electricity substitute telephones, lifts, pretty much anything really) and the knowledge that the power isn’t suddenly going to cut out just as Nasser Hussain faces Curtley Ambrose with 2 runs needed off the last ball. PAH! Hairdressers: I never quite summoned up the courage to have my hair cut there, so trips back to the UK every 6 months always began with a hat wearing trip to the hairdressers – a maximum of 30 minutes after arriving home. I have the fondest memories of the subsequent sheer joy of sporting a “do” for the next six weeks that didn’t make me resemble Hair Bear (Google the Hair Bear Bunch if you’re too young to remember him!). Croquet played on the lawn during a weekend trip to the High Commissioner’s residence in Ibadan. I felt very posh. And mushrooms. Oh how I missed mushrooms.

4. The thrill of living on the edge. I appreciate that living on the edge is not exclusive to Lagos, but it is the only place I’ve lived where the excitement of a Friday night trip downtown included being caught up inadvertently in an exhilarating car chase complete with gunfire. Mercifully I wasn’t driving! A G&T in The Red Lion has always seemed a little tame in comparison since. Then there’s living in a compound surrounded by razor wire & patrolled by gate guards; negotiating army & police roadblocks in bulletproof glassed cars (“have you got something for my Easter?”); being bussed to work with an armed policeman and accompanying security vehicle because the office was in a dodgy part of town; and the very real danger of a potential car-jack. All a little removed from nipping out to Sainbury’s on a Tuesday afternoon in February. Just call me Lara Croft!

5. The ability to reinvent yourself. Fed up with your mundane existence? Then change it! You can be whoever you want to be. Just pop along to any street corner and pick yourself a fresh identity, complete with sparkly new passport & a full set of supporting documents. You’ll also be well placed to learn from the finest scammers in the world.

6. A reminder that there’s always someone worse off than you. Lagosians are truly inspiring and I do mean that sincerely – their faith & resilience in the face of adversity is astonishing. Plus they have lots of fab names like Patience, Charity & Blessing and give uplifting names to their businesses. Buying your tin of beans in Goodness & Mercy Enterprises or God’s Favour Enterprises seems so much more edifying than in a store with a name like Lidl (not that I have anything against names like Lidl – I am just using artistic license, you understand). Also, having never lived somewhere before where it took no less than 5 men to drill a hole, I appreciate their inventiveness when it comes to job creation.

7. The lack of snow. It has to be said that it’s highly unlikely you will be bothered by a preponderance of snow in Lagos. That’s a good enough reason all by itself to live there. Though it can get a bit wet at times.

February 20, 2010
7 Reasons to Shop Online

1. Queues. Sometimes, shops are busy and there are long queues. Having spent the previous ten minutes standing in a queue for the checkout, many people are taken by surprise when they are asked for money. Once they get over the shock of this unanticipated event, they proceed to spend an inordinate amount of time fumbling for cash, cards or vouchers in their pocket, wallet or handbag (sometimes all three), thus making everyone else’s wait in the queue even longer. Approximately 50% of the people in the queue will do this. When an online shop is busy, their servers are sometimes slow, which causes pages to load slowly. This gives you time to practice drumming on the desk or to sing show-tunes from Fiddler on the Roof which, on balance, is better than murdering idiots in Borders.

2. Scary Man.

I saw this man at the shops.

3. Creativity. If you have too much beer, you can’t go shopping. You tend to stumble about, get distracted and forget things. You may even fall over or get asked to leave the shop. When shopping online though, drunkenness is a virtue, as it lowers our inhibitions and brings our creative tendencies to the fore. In the same way that all of the best ideas happen in the pub (and are sadly often forgotten), all the best shopping ideas occur when under the influence. Why buy your partner perfume or aftershave, lingerie or underpants in a shop when you can have a few beers and get them a pan in the shape of a fried egg, a map of New Zealand, an illuminated bust of Beethoven and a biography of Charles Lindbergh? You can also get yourself a new bicycle while you’re at it.

4. Happy cat. When you have to go to the shop for groceries, you tend to pick up a couple of tins of cat food at a time. When you shop online, you stock up. The monthly online grocery shop is like Christmas for cats.

5. Attire. When you visit the shops, you have to dress normally, or people will point at you and security guards may follow you around. When you’re shopping online, however, you can wear whatever you want. If you’re fond of hats, you can wear a pith helmet, a Davy Crockett hat, a top hat or a straw boater without feeling at all self-conscious. If you’re not fond of hats, you can wear whatever costume you like. You could dress up as a Louis XVI or a pirate – you could even dress up as a bear, though this might hamper your ability to use the keyboard and may cause you to order too much salmon.

6. Teenagers. The over-made-up 15 year girl at the Superdrug checkout who hates you for reasons that you don’t understand doesn’t scowl at you, and sigh when you tell her that you don’t require a bag, when you shop online. You may not recall treading on her puppy but at some point during a transaction with her, you will wonder if you have.

7. Christmas. When you shop online your senses aren’t assaulted by gaudy decorations, flashing lights, glittery stuff or baubles, unless that’s what your own home looks like, in which case you probably won’t mind. You will not bang your head on all of the decorations which were hung from the ceiling by an inconsiderate short-arse (for blind people this is a serious issue) and you will not have to listen to Stop The Cavalry once, let alone thirty times. I hate Stop The Cavalry so much that I’m tempted to write Stop The Stop The Cavalry. I probably will do, in a queue in a shop while waiting for people who’ve just discovered that they need to exchange money for goods.

December 7, 2009