Mr. Stack Shopping

Edited by Neil Marr.

She screwed up the volume on her Walkman whilst gliding through the
aisles.

She wasn't supposed to use a Walkman at all, so what difference did it
make if she was also shattering her eardrums with a private orgy of
decibels? Sue wasn't the kind of girl to follow rules. She hadn't lost
this job yet simply because she was the best at it ? she was the shop
champion at shopping for Internet customers. That made up for the mess
she made when it was her turn on the checkout counters.

Sue was the virtual shopper. Order by Internet, she'd fill your basket
and pay with your credit card details. She was worth her weight in
Granny Smiths. She outshone Brasso. She could find that can of Coke
that actually did get rid of the single remaining calorie. Sue was to
shopping what Pavarotti was to world cup football. She made of it an
artform. And many lesser shoppers stood back and gazed in breathless
awe, Sue thought.

Dancing around, picking up now cans of beans, now some chicken breasts,
and now some superglue to fix the budgie cage; humming to enhance the
songs from her personal stereo, while the shoppers beamed and clapped,
she was in her element.

And some shoppers told her to stop buggering about because they were in
a rush and where was the clingfilm.

Why should Sue care what they thought? She was young, pretty, and the
queen of the world, just like the girl in the Titanic flying on the
prow with the wind in her hair, free as an albatross and with nothing
in sight but the future ? only she was on top of a supermarket trolley,
of course. Not a big boat.

And that's how she first got to know Mr Stack instead of Leonardo di
Caprio.

He had made his first order on line and she was to be his personal
virtual shopper ? beep beep, why couldn't she do this on roller skates
like in Monte Carlo?

It was sunny outside, but it didn't matter to her. It was Friday. Sue
didn't work that weekend, so she would have another cracking time for
two entire days.

Mmmmmmm ? groovy melody ? her body moved as if floating to the rhythm
of it, jumping ? she would start with the vegetables, as always. "I
will be there ? yeah! I will be there ? there's nothing that can keep
us together; ain't none that can keep us apart ? mmmmmmmmmmmmmm" Great
song ? where've they moved the Brillo pads to?

A child laughed at her. Sue flashed her magic smile.

"OK. Onions, lose, 400 grams; garlic ? mmmm ? I love this song ? let's
get on with it Mr Stack? or you'll be upset and won't shop on line
again ? What do we have here? Parsley! Yes ? it makes all the
difference doesn't it? It looks like we cook a lot Mr Stack ? Potatoes,
nice big mushrooms ? mmmmmm ? I can smell them with the garlic and the
parsley already. Do you cook Mr Stack? Or do you have a chef in the
penthouse perhaps ? yes ? there are some very rich Singletons in this
area. Toilet paper.

Sue moved quickly thorough the shop, choosing only the best quality
products; the stuff she would have chosen for herself but couldn't
afford.

She arrived at the entertainment and electronics section of the order;
she would have to go to the back for those. Mr Stack wanted the last
Cold Play CD, and "Road to Perdition". Good taste indeed. Sue smiled at
herself. Chopin? A scholar - a hip academic, a hip academic with a cool
fridge and a germ-free sink. What would he look like?

She finished the order with an image of Mr Stack stamped firmly in his
personal file in her brain - as clear and undeniable as one of the
posters over her bed back home. The one of Johnny Depp in granny specs
in Dead Man? Maybe ?

"Sue! Sue ? yuss - we 'ave no bananas ? pick a few up from the store,
luv?"

"On my way, Mark."

When she finished work, Sue took her uniform off, and drove home
quickly. She couldn't wait to hit the dance floor with her mates.

Already dancing she surprised herself looking for Mr Stack. Maybe
that's him with the shirt open right to his tummy button? He looks
unusually smart for this place. No, someone with Mr Stack's cultured
taste in food and music wouldn't waste his weekends here.

On Monday she couldn't concentrate. The hangover wouldn't let
her.

The weeks passed quickly.

Another Friday.

Sue arrived at work not quite as happy as the week before. This time
she would have to work during the weekend, so no party for her, at
least not the usual mega party.

She parked her car and walked slowly into the supermarket, hoping that
something would happen in those few last seconds of freedom. Something
to spare her another day of drudgery.

"Good afternoon, Sue".

"Hi Carla"

Sue got into the staffroom, still dragging her feet. She would need a
good injection of music soon or depression would suffocate her!

There he was, Mark, her boss. That bastard ? come on ? he wasn't all
that bad ? he let her use the 'illegal' Walkman after all! But Sue
didn't like being given orders, and that was all he did there. 'Yuss we
'ave no bananas!" So could she say: "No - get 'em yourself"?

She greeted him politely anyway and took a seat after checking that she
looked half decent in the mirror behind the door (looking completely
decent on those clothes wasn't possible). She browsed her rota.

Yes, she had some shopping routine again. Phewwwwwww! She couldn't
stand being on the tills.

Sue picked up the monitor, checked the mirror again, switched the
Walkman on, and with the serenity of an actress appearing to her
public, she strode into the shop to get on with the day ahead.

Her heart jumped in her chest when she read the name on the payment
information ? Mr Stack ?

She had forgotten ?

"Hello again Mr Stack, what did we run out of this week?"

She took the Walkman out of her pocket and started working. With a
renewed smiled on her face.

"Same toothpaste! Yummy ? fresh, isn't it Mr Stack? And corn-fed
chicken. You know what to eat to keep those tummy muscles rippling like
? er ? two breasts ? are you inviting me for dinner, Mr Stack?"

Mr Stack had a face now. He was Pierce Brosnan in James Bond.

Sue imagined meeting him whilst doing his shopping ? he would come and
say: "Hey, that is my order isn't it? And you must be Miss Forbes, the
lady who did the shopping last week as well. I've been fantasising
about you all week! My bowtie kept whirling around."

"Sue! Sueeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mark's voice brought her back to reality.

"What the heck is wrong with you today? You're taking all day on just
one order ? there are still four to do ? and I would like you to help
with the tills at closing time as well. Do you think you could speed up
a little ? like ? like ? er ? look a bit like a snail in a hurry?
Anything would be an improvement.

"Sorry Mark. How's your bananas?"

"Shit ? Why was she working here? She should be a singer, or a very,
very, very famous actress ? she had imagined leaving for Los Angeles
many times to chase the American Dream. She didn't know too well what
the American Dream was, but it sounded terrific.

She screwed the volume up a little bit more, now people around her
could hear it as well. Many stared in disgust. Listening to a Walkman
is like smoking in a restaurant loo. Everybody knows what you're up
to.

"Mr Stack ? What are you doing now? Still working? No. Surely you've
left the office already, and you're sinking pints with the guys in the
city. Or maybe getting ready for a date with a sophisticated lady. No!
Mr Stack, you can't, you faithless sod! You have to wait to meet me!
Alright Pierce, I know you're in Prague and that that slut means
nothing to you ? a job's just a job after all. Bedding that beauty ?
well it's of no more importance to you than my checking out this box of
powdered fish batter"

That night Sue drove home, smug. She knew Pierce wasn't cheating on
her..

Two weeks later, Sue was on the till, when she saw his name on a credit
card. Mr Brian T Stack.

Brian ?

She looked up ? and Bond wasn't there. It was a sweet ginger feller,
quite shy and smiley. He didn't cock an eyebrow and say: "Name's Stack
? Brian Stack." He wasn't even wearing a tux.

It ached somehow. That wasn't her Mr Stack, was it? Not possible ? he
looked scrubby ? not the kind of guy who would pile smoked salmon,
mozzarella and pesto in his shopping trolley and play Bond in the
movies. This was Mr Beans-on-Toast.

Then she started feeling that sweetness inside again. The hot tummy
ache. She would have to accept his looks ? it wasn't to be 007 or the
Titanic, but maybe 006-and-a-bit. Harry Palmer and a rowboat on the
lake would do.

Then she talked.

"Hi Mr Stack ? nice shirt"

Straight to the point. What should she wait for? People who wait in
this life don't ever get anything.

He looked at her speechless. Did he know this woman? How did she know
his name? Ah! The credit card of course. But why? Girls in the
supermarket didn't usually talk to him. Girls anywhere actually. And
she was gorgeous ?

"Errrr? thank you!"

As he was picking the last plastic bag and arranging it in the trolley
Sue talked again. She wouldn't let him go like that! It could be her
only chance ? "Mr Stack ? I was wondering if you have anything at all
to do tonight ?"

He coughed. That was even more unusual. He didn't know what to do.
There should be a manual for this kind of thing.

"Yes."

Sue's cheeks turned flame red. She shouldn't have done that. Stoooopid!
That's not the way. Not at work. He would think she was
desperate.

He left with a quick thank you. Thank you for the work done, or for the
offer?

Sue felt like she'd fallen asleep in the freezer section. What a ? well
? what a flop!

Next day Mr Stack turned up again, only for a couple of things he could
have easily picked up in any corner shop.

And the next day, and the next ?

And he always paid at her till.

So Sue knew she was in the right track with him. Her interest grew as
time passed. He was definitely her Mr Stack. The shopping was identical
to those she had prepared for him so many times.

They talked always in the few minutes they got, staring at each other
intensely.

Sue wanted to eat Brian's face with kisses. She knew that would be nice
because he used triple-blade disposable razors and Old Spice.

Brian wanted to take Sue to bed and ravish her body.

The tension was becoming too much to bear.

At last he asked her out for dinner.

Sue could hardly wait. She had never felt this way for any other man.
And - silly wanton trollop me, she chirped - the truth is it all to do
with his beastly shopping. Tra-diddle-tra-la ?

She hardly knew him at all otherwise ? she knew more about the contents
of his fridge than the contents of his mind ? or his pants come to
that! She'd only seen him from the waist up. But she just knew he was
the person for her. It couldn't be otherwise ? our shopping says a lot
about us after all.

1 x Domestos Bleach. Mountain Fresh. Four coat hangers. Plastic. Blue.
Chilled bag mixed salad. Six pack socks. Cotton. Assorted colours. Yes
? Mr Stack was clean, tidy, well fed and had his own legs.

And so the day came ?

She got changed before leaving the store. Brian was waiting at the
door, wearing the same clothes she had seen him so many times before.
Didn't he ever change - no he went through washing powder like butchers
went through sawdust. Had she praised the way he was dressed the first
time she'd seen him, thrown away his old wardrobe and replaced it with
green polo shirts and tan sports jackets? Mmmmmmmmm ? of course he
had.

He drove them in his car. Could she tell any of her friends she was
dating a guy she had only seen a few times at work? A shopper! A ginger
shopper at that!!

Where was he driving to? The centre was in the other direction ? they
were on the dual carriageway driving away. Was he taking her to another
town?

He wore some cheap aftershave. He drove like a ninny. She now saw that
he wore Hush Puppies. Her secret agent was fast becoming a Dr
No-no.

Suddenly Brian took the exit to services ?

"What ? why are we stopping?" asked Sue.

"I thought you wanted something to eat first"

"First", mmmmmmmmmmm ? well ? he was right ? they both expected some
special pudding. But what a way to put it! And anyway, there wasn't any
restaurant there only ?

"We are not eating at Little Chef's are we?" she asked horrified.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ?"

Sue sighed with relief.

"I'd rather splash out on Burger King ? it's got the best chips,
'annit?"

Sue's head felt very heavy now ? Brosnan did not frequent burger
joints. At least not on duty.

"It's OK, Brian. I am not very hungry really, anywhere will do"

He smiled at her and parked.

Mr Stack ordered their meals. Just as well! She was expecting him to
order only for himself!

"It's three ninety nine Sue. Each."

Oh God ? was he real?

She looked for some change in her wallet, and handed it over to him,
feeling tired and anxious. She didn't want to be there anymore. It was
all like a bad nightmare. She wanted to be at home already, reading a
book, cosy in her bed.

They sat with their greasy meals.

Brian ate like a pig, devouring his hamburger as if it was the first in
years. Mouth wrestling it as though the cow was still alive. "I've
booked a room already" he said, spitting pieces of lettuce, tomato and
some unidentified matter in the direction of the drivers' quick kip
motel on the other side of the car park. "I can't stay long though
?"

"Why?" She thought she might as well ask before she excused herself for
a moment and climbed out of the bathroom window.

His face and ears were crimson. You could have lit a cigarette from his
nose.

"Mother," he answered.

"Mother?"

"Mother"

"Brian," she said. "Did you know that it was me who did the
shopping-on-line for you all this time?"

"What are you talking about?

"Your shopping, you know? When you shop on the Internet ? it was me who
collected all the stuff and paid for them for you!"

"I never do the Internet shopping! Mum takes care of all that"

Oh.

"She doesn't have a bank account, so always uses my cards, that's
prob?"

Sue's laughter could have spiced hot dogs.

"Are you OK? What's so funny?"

Sue stood up, took his car keys from the table, and left.

"Tell mum she has a wonderful taste in groceries, and a bargain
basement son!"

"But ? but ? my car!"

"Don't worry I won't eat it. It'll be at the store! Take a taxi!"

Still laughing Sue drove all the way back

"I should have guessed; it's not the size of a guy's credit card that
matters ? it's how he uses it," she told Pierce Bosnan. He didn't reply
because he was busy weighing tomatoes.

Real men do their own shopping. The End