I popped across to my local shop to get some bread. The young shopkeeper never smiles and complains if I buy more than one loaf. If I'm short even just a few pence I have to leave my shopping until I come back with the cash, despite the fact that I've frequented that place almost daily for six years. I've suggested that she could order more bread etc as there is obviously demand (after 11am the bread shelf is usually bare) but she does not understand this concept. So I am restricted to one loaf per visit.
Tesco is here in Poland, although it stocks much the same as all the local shops. If you're looking for something not typically Polish then you're wasting your time. Cheddar cheese? Forget it. Fresh orange juice? No way. HP? Never heard of it. Tasteless rubber-like processed cheese? Loads. Frozen food? No problem. Vodka. Anytime!
I have foreign friends here who refuse to go to the supermarkets because they cannot bear the pushing and shoving. But, needing slightly more than my local shop would allow me, I bravely set off with dread in my heart and knuckle-dusters in my pockets. It must be said at this point that having lived all my life in London, in a relatively small space crammed with millions of people, I've never had my personal space violated as I have had since I arrived here in Poland six years ago. For foreigners living here it is probably the hardest thing to deal with.
On arrival at Tesco it is obligatory to leave any bags you may be carrying at the main counter. You are treated as a thief until proven otherwise. Security guards with ear-pieces stand by to ensure that no-one enters with any sort of receptacle.
Having flitted round generally unscathed and collected various boil-in-the-bag and long-life delights I eventually found myself at the checkout manned by a terrifying over-madeup woman in her fifties, hair black and brittle from a thousand bleachings. Carrier bags are given out one at a time only as required to prevent them from being stolen en masse. Even the plastic shopping baskets have security tags bolted on. While virtually throwing my shopping at me I noticed her put two items aside unscanned. She informed me of the total and I asked about the two items she had neglected.
"You no can buy this."
"I can't buy them? Why not?" I enquired.
She scowled at me whilst raising her voice "You no can buy this. This no has price, no label, see???" She waved the items at me.
The customer behind me was pushing his trolley into the back of my knees and the queue were huffing and puffing at the 'stupid foreigner'.
"Right," I said, fighting an impulse to lunge across the conveyer belt and strangle her... "but surely you can ask one of the countless assistants in here to find out the price?"
A security guard had closed in and was standing just a yard away staring hard at me in an attempt to intimidate. This is a normal situation here and easy to understand when you remember that in Poland the customer is always WRONG.
I pointed to the phone beside her and asked why she couldn't just phone someone who could check the price.
"This no your business! You pay! You pay now!"
I turned round to ask the moron behind me to move back a little and let me stand up properly, at which point the the security guard demanded that I pay and leave. My heart was racing and I could feel the sweat beads forming. I paid and left, realising later that I had forgotten my gym bag at the reception.
Word of the week: przestepczosc meaning criminality.
