Rummage sale

There is a lot about life that perplexes Cicero. This is one more example and he wonders if he might seek explanation and understanding from some of his many readers.

The issue is quite simple.

From time to time Cicero is forced to endure the torture of doing some shopping. Otherwise he would starve.

And so having wandered  the food emporium and gathered together his few items of sustenance he waits in line while  the assistant scans the mountains of food and supplies that many others seem to like to buy. Sometimes he can whizz through but mostly he queues behind 3, 4 or even 5 or more trolleys filled to over flowing with all kinds of foodstuffs that increasingly the nannies among us are condemning with the same enthusiasm that they have banned or taxed just about everything else that gives mankind pleasure.

And should one be stuck behind these trollies it can take quite a time to get through. Indeed there are many parallels with the queues one has to join when one returns to the land of our birth and our birth right as the Apparatchiks who man our borders make everyone queue to screen everyone regardless of passport to ensure no one of whom UKIP might disapprove sneaks through.

In this situation it can take 5 minutes for the contents of the trolley to be scanned. Plenty of time you might think for the trolley driving missus, for they are usually of the distaff persuasion, to get ready. But no. For it is only when every item has been scanned, bagged and the sum of the goods purchased totalled, and not a second before, that the driver of the trolley decides to rummage through her handbag and search for her purse and the means to pay. 

And searching through a handbag is no easy matter. It is not like the purse is ever at the top. It takes the survival and exploring skills of Bear Grylls to rummage through a woman’s handbag.

So this is what Cicero wants to know?

Why do woman not use the dead time when their goods are being whizzed through the technology to find the means to pay and have it ready in their hand, or at least have it somewhere locatable? There must be a simple explanation.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.