Which One Will It Be?

I’m running late and very stressed, as I enter the supermarket doors,
I try to remember why I’ve come, as by the veg I pause.
Someone’s angel is behind me, wailing and carrying on,
Mother said ‘No.’ to sugar fix, but no won’t mean no for long.

I scurry up and down the isles, as visually my memory does wake,
Potatoes, flour, butter and milk, Saturday shopping I hate!
A quick dash to the reduced counter, to see what we’ll have for tea.
Then a final run down to the checkouts, now which one will it be?

The first has only one in the queue, but her trolley is full to the brim.
The second has a few more than that, but one of them looks well, dim.
At the third there are only two, one of them the screaming brat.
The fourth a long line of baskets, so I’ll have to forget about that!

The fifth it seems is the pensioners line, far too chatty for me.
I simply don’t have the time, if I want to be home for tea.
The sixth now that looks promising, only one basket to go.
I stand and wait for her to pay, but her card is refused, Oh no!

Checkout girl at number seven, no queue, so I’m quick in there,
I start unloading my items, ‘Sorry I’m closed, me dear!’
Number eight has a training day, so it’s on to number nine.
But there stands a big security guard, watching for any crime.

Number ten is definitely closed, eleven and twelve are too.
Number thirteen I don’t fancy that, very unlucky for a few.
Fourteen and fifteen have flashing lights, so best give them a miss.
The only one left is sixteen, and I’m next, Oh what bliss!

I empty my items one by one, for the checkout girl to scan.
I start packing them into bags, everything going to plan.
Two more items and I’m out of here, free for another week.
But wait my potatoes won’t register, now I’m ready to freak!

Screaming princess rolls past me, at least she has control.
She stamps her feet, demands it so, and folk just do as they are told.
I look back and scan the checkouts, everyone faster than mine.
If only I’d paid less attention, to trying to save more time!