At the supermarket

Well we did our first big shop after our return.

Several small triumphs !
The car started and ran OK.
We found the entrance to the supermarket (they changed the access roads again).
I remembered the code for our French bank card.

One new friend !
A security guard now does spot checks if you've gone through the self-scanned area.
This big guy came up to me and said, "you know how this goes ?"
"Not at all"
"Oh, OK, it's just a spot check. The milk, was it one of the last things you bought ?"
"No, look, here it is..." showing him the bill.
"Where are you from ?"
"I'm Welsh. What about you ?"
"Burkina Faso"
"Oh, I've got friends in Ouagadougou."

We started talking about life in France, race issues in France and the UK, you know... stuff...

He's a doctoral student in business having already done a doctorate in sociology. By continuing his studies he can stay in France on a student visa.

We parted on first-name terms after I'd introduced Gwilym, who had joined us after buying himself a pair of chinos at a normal till.

I must look out for him next time I go to Carrefour, and since soon we'll have the kids back to school stuff to buy I will be spending quite a lot of time going back and fore to Carrefour !


Alan said…
A cautionary tale from a friend. To protect his identity we shall call him Barry.

I was on holiday just south of Marseille, Saint Cyr Sur Mer, and went shopping on my birthday to pick up some bubbles for the evening meal. Self service tills and then I bin the receipt.

The security guard cornered me, accused me of theft and we spent 8 mins hunting for my receipt in the bin in full view of the rest of the supermarket. I was too incandescent sadly to appreciate the lesson in forced humility.

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