This is part 1 of the tale of: The Battle for The Energy Drink.

Context

I do not drink, smoke, or consume any other form of drug. That is aside from my usual vice of sugar, and crappy processed foods (crisps). Recently, however, I have decided to ‘live a little’ (as the old cliche goes). Boring reality affront: I need something to help keep me awake, so I am experimenting with caffeine.

Anyway, that is not why you are here – to the point:

The Tesco Stasi & The Battle for the Energy Drink.

It was a cool, crisp summer’s morning. Refreshed from the wind rubbing against my face, having cycled to the local Tesco Express, I set upon purchasing my first caffeine drink.

Once decided what I was to purchase, a ‘grenade’ energy drink (most invigatoring, I thought), there was only the mundane task of dealing with the self-checkout machine (as the other Tesco robots employees were occupied by idleness). But this mundane task had a surprise in store – ‘item requires approval – age 16+ restriction’, the machine cried (in its typically tyrannical tone).

Awakened by the orders of the superior robot, the female checkout assistant sprung, (slowly), to action. “Do you have ID?” she barked. ID?! I thought, what is this an acronym for – but I conceded, in a rush I simply said, firmly: “No”. “Then I cannot sell you this drink”, her eyes gleamed with delight. I knew before it had begun that this battle was lost, the sheer delight from which she had derived the power to deny my vice was one only a truly lonely, hardened jobsworth could possess.

“Why not?”, I enquired. “How old are you?”, she rebutted. “19”, I conceded. “Well… you need ID, have you got ID?”. I thought for an instant, knowing this battle was lost, I might have a photo of my driving-licence, or perhaps my railcard – but I was not giving up that easily.

“Why do I need an ID, I have never before been ID’d, do you really think I am under 16?” – no answer, the bureaucrat in her shined through the miserable exterior: “You need an ID, I have asked you and I can ask you, so it doesn’t matter what I think”. At this point, I gave up attempting to purchase a vice I didn’t truly desire, particularly given I could happily purchase it elsewhere with ease, where my custom was welcome.

So, I began to set my bait, to reel in the bureaucrats – for no other reason than to show them up for how silly they really are. Suffice to say, it worked a charm. Despite showing two forms of ID – a digital railcard proving my age beyond doubt, and a photo of my driving licence, the petit-minded childishness of this miserable man and woman overtook them. “Well, yes I’ve seen it and I know you are [19], but I’m not accepting it”.

For those of you who’ve endured this ramble this far, I’ve a treat for you – there is a part 2 (much more entertaining): the customer service correspondence with Tesco Ministry of Truth.

Part 1 ends as follows:

Still in stupid-tesco-customer character, I state I am going to make a complaint, the final response “see how far that gets you”, they scorn; challenge accepted.

Coming-up in part2 – Tesco Ministry of Truth (and Love)?:

Charlotte accidentally leaks Tesco’s top-secret telepathy project.

Lord Noob gets confused.

Will Lord Noob reconnect with Laura through the corporate firewall?

Patricia saves the day?

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