Never have I wanted a pack of cigarettes
more than the moment the LIDL checkout woman decided I couldn’t have one. She
did this, after looking me up and down, by pressing a button to bring a kind of
plastic shield up over the cigarette counter.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret this. I had just joined the queue, with my new mobile Internet stick in hand (see below post), we made eye contact for about a millisecond, and up came the cigarette shield.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret this. I had just joined the queue, with my new mobile Internet stick in hand (see below post), we made eye contact for about a millisecond, and up came the cigarette shield.
Initially I was shocked purely by the technology. I’d never seen anything like it, it was so smooth, so sleek, so German. A series of silver bars fell into rank over the cigarette pack bins beside the counter with devastating precision, and for a moment, I was impressed.
 |
| Who could fail to be? |
But then the indignation set in. Why had
she raised the shield against me? Did she take me for a puritan, and was
worried the sight of the boxes might unsettle me? Did she think I was on the
verge of becoming a smoker, and refused to bear witness to the first moment of
weakness in a downward spiral? Was she worried that I was an addict, and wanted
to curb my damaging habits? Was she worried that I was so addicted I wouldn’t
be able to help myself from tearing upon a couple of packets then and there and
cramming a hundred cigarettes into my mouth, before being rushed to hospital
without getting a chance to pay for them?
All of these possibilities are equally (im)plausible, because as far as I can tell, nothing about me makes me look particularly like a smoker. Or, for that matter, a non-smoker. Nor do I look underage, overage, or pregnant. My attitude to smoking is probably the median attitude to smoking in the Western world: don’t do it myself, but know people who do and don’t begrudge them their right to do so.
All of these possibilities are equally (im)plausible, because as far as I can tell, nothing about me makes me look particularly like a smoker. Or, for that matter, a non-smoker. Nor do I look underage, overage, or pregnant. My attitude to smoking is probably the median attitude to smoking in the Western world: don’t do it myself, but know people who do and don’t begrudge them their right to do so.
Well today, my right to smoke was worse than begrudged – it was repealed. And the loss of that right feels every bit as suffocating as the act of smoking itself. I imagine.
So how do I exact my revenge on this autocratic LIDL employee? By taking up smoking? That might show her – but then again, it might play right into her hands. Maybe she thought the shield would give the cigarettes an alluring aura of exclusivity, which would draw me inexorably into smokerhood. Her mind games are unfathomable! How can I possibly win?
This isn’t over, LIDL lady. To be continued.
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