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Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Argos - the shop of the devil 

I always regret going to Argos. Always and without exception. It is the most useless shop in the world. I would rather chew off my own nose than shop there again.

Why did I go? I don't know. I suppose I was being lazy. I should have walked all the way up to PC World or braved one of the IT Bazaars in Tottenham Court Road but no. Memories of my last visit had been dimmed by time. They can't be that bad, I thought. If I go forearmed with the knowledge that the "number 881 is ready" displays are a complete work of fiction then I will be able to cope.

To quote Joan Rivers for a second: Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.

I should have known I should have turned around when I went through the door and saw a sign declaring a 5 minute wait. 15 minutes was more like it. There was one girl dishing out the goods but, as they weren't coming up from the basement that quickly she spent most of her time hiding rather than feel the pressure of 20 sets of eyes boring into her.

Seeing the large crowd waiting for their orders should also have been a clue as to the poor level of service as should the empty shelf where things should have been waiting to be collected.

I think it was five minutes before anything emerged from the bowels of the Earth.

It was fifteen minutes before anyone thought to come and give the poor girl a hand. I think they waited until she disappeared behind the masses of waiting people.

Never again.

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Your Argos is obviously not as good as the ones up here... where all the worshipers cry at the pure joy of all the gifts on offer - that's why the pages are laminated, you know, so the salty tears can be easily wiped off (thank you Bill Bailey). And I've seldom had to wait more than five minutes. Indeed, the only big probem tends to be carting the heavy stuff back home, particularly if you're using public transport like what I do.

Maybe I've just been lucky...
 
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