Things I hate about airports...

1. "Express" trains that charge you almost the cost of the air ticket to get to the airport. And then make you walk almost as far again to the terminal.
2. Automated check ins that require a masters in IT to operate and appear consistently unable to accept your "machine readable" passport.
3. Those that appear to be checking in their entire family and its worldly goods directly in front of you, and then proceed to open suitcases to remove items which weigh in at double the free allowance.
4. Security scanners that require you to remove half of your clothing in order to pass through undetected.
5. Those who fail to anticipate security scanners and turn up in thigh high leather boots with toe caps and steel studded belts, all of which must be removed before they, or you, are free to pass.
6. Airside restaurants who apparently don't realise that those eating have not just come for a slap up meal airside, but in fact have a certain sense of urgency, like a flight to board.
7. Being asked to show a boarding pass in order to purchase a newspaper.
8. Vehicles carrying apparently disabled or evidently obese passengers to the gate, who beep at you and expect you to jump aside as you make the long walk unaided.
9. Being ordered to walk across the tarmac to board an aircraft on the other side of the airport in howling wind, and then queuing as the family who checked in before you take an eternity to board, find their seats, stow their numerous hand bags and generally organise themselves. Shift.
10. Baggage carousels, at which you wait for your checked baggage to arrive or not, as the case may be.
11. Those who insist on giving their children a ride on a trolley, leaving you to carry your own baggage while trying to dodge their eratic moves as you furtively make your way to the nothing to declare channel.
12. Those waiting in arrivals with signs bearing the names of people who will be carried to their destination in chauffeur driven car while you sweat it out on local transport in a language utterly unfamiliar.

© 2010 Wilma Kay

Things I hate about lifts...

1. Fellow riders who stand in front of the control panel so you cannot see if your floor has been pressed.
2. Personal space invaders, especially when the lift is empty. Shift.
3. Studious eye contact avoiders.
4. Inane chat between fellow riders.
5. Those who press the wrong floor, then laugh at how scatty they are. Hilarious.
6. Body odour.
7. Those who try to get in before you have gotten out. Wait. Your. Turn.
8. Those who hold the doors open to finish a conversation. Get out.
9. Those who stand in front of you and refuse to move when you want to get out. Lemme out.
10. Door hurlers who arrive just as the doors are closing but insist on getting that lift, thereby delaying everybody.
11. Jumping up and down. Get a life.
12. The voice of the lift lady who tells you to have a nice evening when you have only popped out to get a sandwich because you are working late. F_ck you.

© 2010 Wilma Kay

Things I hate about supermarkets...

1. Parent and child parking, which appears to take up more and more of the car park every time I visit. This is the most obvious case of positive discrimination I have ever come across.
2. The illogical location of chilled items near the entrance, which means that everything capable of generating e coli gradually gets warmer as you peruse the tinned items, household products and booze section.
3. Trolley wobble. We can put man on the moon but...
4. The need to carry a pound coin with you at all times.
5. Shelf stackers who think they have right of way to cut in front of your trolley, blocking access to the one item you need.
6. Stacking items with a sell by date of tomorrow near the front of the fridge and items with a longer shelf life towards the back. We were not born yesterday.
7. Security tags on gin and champagne but not on a 1974 bottle of bordeaux. Query am I being discriminated against again?
8. The seasonal section which appears to sell barbecue fuel in the winter and christmas lights in August.
9. Automated check outs. I have never managed an entire transaction without needing to call over the disinterested "assistant" whose job it appears to be to stand still and stare into the middle distance.
10. Checkouts manned by individuals competing for the olympic gold in scanning your purchases, leaving you breaking out in a sweat trying to bag everything before you are asked for your club card.
11. Assistant bag packers who pack 12 kilos worth of purchases in one bag and one cornflake in the other.
12. The guilt of having to ask for a plastic bag.

© 2010 Wilma Kay