Tag Archives: sainsbury’s

The Field Slider

Once upon a time, many years ago, I tried my hand in a sales role.  Turns out, I was shit at it, my strengths apparently lie in operational stuff – but let me tell you about why I was crap at sales.

Firstly and foremost, the sales role I entered into was for a product I knew well.  It was for a product that I had previously managed from an operational point of view – and very successfully too.  Of course, the sales team loved having me around while pitching to customers because I knew my product well, knew how to work it and knew its limitations.  Then, I moved to a competitor.  At least I thought they were a competitor!  When I got some inside information on their product – I could see just how shit it was, and definitely no match for the product I had just left behind.

Now, not being a sales minded fool, I just couldn’t sell a shit product to unsuspecting clients – I am far too honest for that.  I also struggled with the Finance Director in that company too.  See, they advertised the role as £40k OTE.  For those who are unfamiliar with corporate speak, OTE refers to ‘On Target Earnings’, pretty typical with sales job.  You get a base salary and then you make bonuses based on volume of sales.  The bonuses + the base (on a good year) will equal the OTE.

Simple maths you would have thought ?

Not if you’re a Finance Director it seems.  When I finally got my targets from this guy, I did a very simple calculation.  I added my base salary to the bonuses available for hitting 100% on targets from day 1 and guess what?  That £40k a year was in fact £28k a year.  When I asked the Director of Finances how there could be such a huge difference in what was advertised as OTE and what I could physically achieve, he simply said ‘that’s just the way it is’!

Now imagine….I had just spent 6 months working for Stelios Haji-Ioannou of easyjet fame out of their Camden office – a business man who made decisions with his ego rather than rationale, then to be clobbered by this Finance Director who had less charisma than a cold wet chamois leather – I was convinced that there was no integrity left in the UK.  I fudged the next few months doing absolutely sod all until eventually they said ‘this isn’t working is it?’.  At which point I smiled at the Operations Director and agreed with him – ‘Absolutely not Ken’ I beamed. I then explained why things had progressed that way and my conversation two months prior with the Finance Director.  Poor Ken looked shocked.

He did ask if I wanted to stay for my sales meeting that morning to which I replied ‘of course not’ and I headed for home. I thought that would be it if I am honest.  Until they came to collect the car a month later.  The Finance Director tried to withhold my salary because of a crack in the windscreen and a scratch on the bumper.  I referred him back to my contract, pointing out there was no mention of their ability to withhold funds.  I gave them 3 days to put the money in my bank or I would refer the matter to ACAS and guess what……………the very next day I was paid in full.

Now in short, that’s golf wankers at a corporate level.  See, the FD was a golf wanker and if you weren’t prepared to listen to his shit – you simply weren’t in his favour.  Even before I met him, I hated golf so imagine how much of a sympathetic ear his weedy stories fell on ?

When I left, I did write to one of their board members telling them what had been going on.  Curiously, I learned a year later they had all been fired.   Golf Wankers.

A month after all of that was done, I had sold my house, most of my belongings and left the UK.

I digressed a little there – I was talking about my inability to be a salesman.  You will see a little further down the page a photo from a recent shopping trip to Sainsbury’s.  a 300g packet of McVities Chocolate Digestives costing 10p MORE than a 500g packet.  I questioned why and how Sainsbury’s can do this.  Lets be fair for a moment – Sainsbury’s  are not the only culprit – they are all at it – but how can they do it and get away with it and make money?

The answer is very simple, and a lot closer to home than most of you will imagine.  The reason why they can and do get away with it is that the general public are insanely stupid.  I shall now give you two examples.

 

  1.  My very gorgeous S7 edge broke again recently (another story there – save that for another day).  With both the front and rear screen cracked and a potential repair bill from Samsung in the region of £250 / £300 I started looking at replacing it.  There were 3 items listed on eBay.  Two were fixed price, buy it now sales, both listed at just under £350. The third was an auction style sale, highest bidder wins.  When I first looked, that was at £320 with an additional £7.50 postage. A couple of days later and that auction ended, the final bid at £390 plus postage. So who is paying nearly £50 more for something than the other two listings on eBay? Stupid People!
  2. Just bought a tumble dryer for the missus – I know, romance isn’t dead.  Thought it would make an excellent Valentines Day present to replace her non condensing dryer which was causing much condensation throughout her house.  So, I took a look through eBay again.  With one eye on the environment, I also looked at some tidy second hand options.  While watching and searching, I noticed a company in Leicester that were offering new Hotpoint dryers for £169.  I checked ao.com and the best they were doing was a tad over £200.  Some of the used units were fetching very close to the price of the new Hotpoint so I thought ‘stop wasting your time Wayno’ jumped in the five point oh (no longer focused on the environment) and headed to Leicester to pick one up.  Met the girl at the store, loaded the Range and as I was about to pull away my phone chirped.  eBay – the item you were watching has finished, the winning bid was £179. A second hand dryer had sold for more than I had paid for a new one. Who does that?  STUPID PEOPLE.

So let that be a lesson to you – retailers get away with charging what they like all thanks to STUPID PEOPLE. So the reason I was shit at sales was all down to STUPID PEOPLE and my honesty and integrity that wouldn’t allow me to take their money for a shite product that they could get elsewhere at a better price or a higher quality.

 

Crikey – that was a bit of a rant……..took longer than expected.  Lets get back to the field slider.

 

For the uninitiated, the ‘Field Slider’ is a car.  Generally of low value, minimal street cred unless pimped to some degree, often a second car used to protect a more valued item, front or rear wheel drive (never a 4×4, but rear drive has more kudos than front), ABS is optional and ESP banned.  Any car from the mandatory ESP era simply cannot be considered a field slider.

The idea of the slider is the freedom to be more reckless or careless. No need to lock it, park it where you like, doesn’t matter if someone dings it, cleaning is optional (interior & exterior), birds can shit all over it and it doesn’t matter if it burns the paint, you can throw anything in the back to take to the dump without putting a protection sheet down first, cheap second hand parts are abundant (although trips to the scrap yard these days are not as much fun now that they are not allowed to stack cars 3 high), insurers laugh at you if you ask for comprehensive insurance, people in Sainsbury’s filling station look down their noses at you when you are filling it up, and importantly no matter how dirty you are – your field slider is always happy that you sat in its seat.

But the real attraction of the field slider is its main qualifying criteria – it must be of an age that was pre mandatory ESP or electronic stability program for the abbreviation shy.  See, modern cars, you can hit a bend too hot, brake in the wrong place, accelerate too hard at the wrong time and the car will squirm around underneath you, recover, keep you on the tarmac and spit you out the other end alive and well, feeling like some kind of F1 hero for ‘saving the car’.  The reality is that the stability program just saved you, the car and the ditch from a very compact threesome that wasn’t quite the threesome you had in mind.

A true slider needs understanding, calmness and control. Arguably the best sliders came from Italy.  Alfa’s, Fiats and the absolute legendary Lancia’s.  There are a brace now of suitable rear wheel drives from BMW & Mercedes but be aware – these boys were fitting ESP way before it was a legal requirement. If you are lucky, you might still find an old XR4i or a Brooklands 280 Capri but these are creeping up in value now and may be too expensive to stay in the true ‘slider’ category.

Everybody should have a slider at some point in their life.  Extra points can be earned for pulling up at the Ritz in London in your slider, getting out in your wellies and having the car valet parked.

And lets not forget, the ability of the slider to help compliance with rule 25.

 

The Rules

 

 

 

 


Sainsbury’s – Giving you Less for More !

Ok, it happened.  I offer no apology for my polluting ways because I expect my next car to be a Tesla and also recharged by solar panels so it will make up for any mess I create now.

 

Rollin’ –  in my five point oh

No rag top down so my hair can blow though….

Talking of pimped wheels, look what I spotted at the car wash the other day

 

Yep – they were jet washing it.  I wanted to tell them that electricity and water were generally not a good mix but let them get on with it anyway. I wonder how much he paid – there is no listing on the menu board for mobility scooters.

Now, quick sharp, back to the headline – Sainsbury’s – Giving you less for more.  Regular readers would have seen a previous posting about a £12 price difference for an identical item between Tesco and Sainsbury’s the other day.  Now, it’s not something I want to bleat on about, I am a Sainsbury’s boy through and through so find this whole episode quite embarrassing.  What you are about to see beggars belief really.  I can think of no economic example that can explain such tosh.

 

 

It’s fair to say I am a bit of a chocolate fiend. ‘What – never’ I hear you cry.  ‘How could you possibly be a chocolate fiend and be so buff and studly all the time?’.  It’s hard if I am honest but I still manage it.

Anyway – Sainsbury’s – please tell me, how can you sell a 500g packet of chocolate digestives for less than you sell a 300g packet?  In the words of Donnie Darko – I am all ears!

That’s all for now, I just wanted to share my confusion.  Actually, I am also confused about the amount of new followers my little blog has received this week, all of them latin based names. I was naturally curious and looked at the visitor stats expecting to see some latin countries featuring on the list – but no.  I am suspicious and will investigate further.

Until my investigations are complete – should you receive an email from me suggesting I am stuck in Africa after having my wallet and airline ticket stolen and suggesting you transfer some funds to me at the local Western Union branch in Swaziland – Don’t do it.

DO however, feel free to send me chocolate digestives. There is no excuse for buying cheap knock offs either – Only McVitie’s will do and they absofuckinglutely have to be milk chocolate – none of that dark chocolate nonsense – do you hear ?


Something is Returning

It could be genius, it could be simply the new purchase – a Range Rover Sport V8 Supercharged.  A tad over 500 BHP and fuel consumption that warrants buying shares in BP.  You gotta do it though – everyone should have a V8 Supercharged at some stage in their life right?

On the plane up to Aberdeen tonight, I happened across the perfect song to play first on my road trip back south.  You will get that at the very bottom of this post – just imagine, as I pull away out of Aberdeen tomorrow morning…….  OK, by my standards, Aberdeen to Rugby is nothing more than a quick hop, skip and a jump but every road trip deserves its own play list to see you through.

I found another blinder too, this one you don’t have to wait for though, take a quick look at this beauty.  This will be my sunset tune as I get further south.

Maybe the internet raised us – or maybe people are jerks !

So, where have I been you ask?  Dah – like you care?  Well, a year in Asia under my belt I decided to quit my job and take some time out to study for my next (and last) license.  The next one is as high as I can go,  Top of the shop – Nine – Oh.  February and March will flash by in a blur as I aim to convert my Y License over to an SV licence but also push the size of the boats 6 fold.

January will also see me studying for an Fgas license. What?  an Fgas license?  WTF?  No, its not ‘fart gas’ but does allow me to legally handle refrigerants for air con and fridges etc. I think it will look good on my ever expanding CV.

But enough of that bollocks

Tesco or Sainsbury’s?

Me, I am a Sainsbury boy through and through but I did see something this week that shocked me to my core.  I was out looking for printer cartridges for Poopies printer – a modest yet effective HP Envy 5640.  A nice wireless little model too I might add.  Anyway, a black and colour cartridge I spied in Tesco for £24 – nice little combo. Problem was, Tesco was out of own brand printer paper and by heck I wasn’t paying £5 for a premium ream, sod that!  I headed for Sainers so I could refuel with my double nectar points token at the same time.

Good old Sainers, had the ream of paper for just £3.50 – that’s more like it. Just out of curiosity, I browsed the printer cartridges too.  Holy crap I nearly shat my pants.  The same cartridge combo was £36 !!!!!!!!!!  £12 more expensive than Tesco.  12 pence I could deal with but 12 quid – come on.

Out of sheer disgust, I left with my paper, a hole punch and some of those little stick on paper circles to reinforce the punch holes – sod the printer inks, I ordered a pair of XL cartridges on eBay instead and got them the next day.

For the travellers amongst you – and I don’t mean pikies, the travellers that fly – I have a new game for you to try. I have been doing it for a while now.  I am still stuck on the name for it, either ‘spot the fuckwit’ or ‘shit your pants’ I can’t decide.  Get on a plane, wait for it to start its taxi and then take a good look around.  See if you can guess who will be the first to leap out of their seat to go the toilet the very instant that the captain turns off the seat belt signs – its amazing.

It doesn’t end there though – prepare yourself for the re-match.  After the pilot has announced the decent and the cabin crew tell you to return to your seats and buckle up, who will be the first dick (or dickette – lets consider equality for a moment) to get up for the toilet when the seat belt signs are turned back on again, even after the cabin crew have said the toilets are now out of service.

I struggle with these fools if I am honest.  I once held a poo all the way from L.A. to London and then last year smashed that record with a ‘hold’ all the way from Singapore to London.  Why people struggle for 30 minutes is beyond me.

OK

 

Back to the start.  The beginning of the road trip – the song I shall start my journey with is……..

 

Wait for it.  Let me explain the intensity of this song.  People talk about bucket lists (OK, yanks talk about bucket lists).  They wank on about sky diving, going to the Isle of Man TT, Lion Taming, stabbing a Vicar in the neck, etc etc etc.  The bucket list – A list of things you should do before you die (kick the bucket)

Well, all of the items on their bucket list are just plain piffle, twat waffle, a waste of space.  If there is one thing, just one thing that should be on everyone’s bucket list – it should be this.

Many years ago while having a night out in Edinburgh, a packed pub, rammed to the rafters, the DJ decided to play this song. The whole place erupted in grand voice so loud, even the walls were shaking, I swear the 4 storey building was swaying with the beat.  Scrub your bucket list and put this at the top – to be in a Scottish pub when this is played.

But before you look, let me translate, To Haver = To talk shit.

 

 

 

Lastly, a few hello’s

 

Mon & John.  Bumped into Mon in the TC last week while I was walking along dreaming about a Greggs sausage role and almost missed her, in fact, I did miss her, luckily she spotted me. Lexa – all the way down in South Africa, popping up for the Hugh Cornwell post the other week, Conor – always deserving a mention, my most avid follower, Mr Westwood (and I don’t mean Tim) a surprise meeting at the farm in Cathorpe.  Amy Beard for still not buying me coffee and a cake – MINGER ! Steve B for some very good Xbox sessions since I have been home and of course my bird for being spectacularly ace in every aspect.

 

Party on Wayne

 

 

 


Eating on a budgie

I just read through my last post.  When I wrote that, I was sick as a dog and not running…..hmmmm, something of a theme developing here then.

To keep a long story long, on Wednesday last week, I went to Cannock Chase with Poopie Pants and my mountain bikes.  After suffering a binding front brake on all of the climbs, I finally stopped to release some hydraulic fluid and stop the bind.

It needed to be done, I had struggled to climb at the same pace as poopie, in fact, there were a couple of places that I got left behind – and as you might guess, that right pissed me off – the only person that is allowed to get left behind at Cannock is Steve Brown, because he is old and slow.

So, with some hydraulic pressure released and my front wheel now spinning free as a bird, we sat at the entrance to the only big downhill section that was open that day.  I told poopie that as this section was fast and technical, I would put my crash helmet back on.  Normally I get too hot on the climbs to keep it on and generally our uphill speeds are much safer than our downhill stuff.

Helmet on and I lead the way.  It is fair to say that all of my uphill frustration was now manifesting itself as pure leg power mixed with brain out bravery.  Like a man possessed, I took off.  I have to say at this point that Mr. Brown who we would normally consider the downhill master, would have been left in my wake.  I was on a mighty mission.  The Specialized was absorbing the bumps as if they were mere pebbles.  Jumps were fluid, air time was abundant, the landings – like a boss.  In short – I was a World Champion, flying like a recently released Banshee.

Until

Just one little mistake and 20mph in the forest on a downhill track can suddenly appear to be a tad too fast.

I couldn’t hear Rupert behind me, he hadn’t stayed anywhere near on pace.  I hit a jump with my left foot slightly out of position on the pedal which then caused the bike to veer slightly to the right from the top of the jump.

The 200 year old tree loomed in front of me.  You don’t need to be a Rocket Scientist to know that mountain bike brakes and steering have little if no effect when airborne. Instantly I knew I was in trouble.  I wasn’t going to be in the air all the way to the tree, that was obvious enough but at the side of the cycle track, at the base of the tree was the root system of the 200 year old beast.  Now I say root system but to accurately describe it I need to use a word that rarely comes out of my vocabulary locker.

These roots were gnarly roots – yep, gnarly mother fu**ers. Polished and shining at the side of the track and standing maybe half a metre above the ground and I was heading straight at them at almost 20mph.  At this point, my life didn’t flash before my eyes but instead a quiet calmness reminded be about the physics (gyroscopic effect) of a spinning wheel.  The best chance I had of survival was to continue at full speed directly at them and let the bike ‘do the work’ as it floats across the top.

For anyone that rides, drives, runs, skates, skis etc you will be aware of this theory – keep up the speed and you will be ok.  The problem is, as your brain very quickly makes the association between your speed, the obstacle in front of you and a great deal of pain when it all goes wrong. It wants to slow down as it quite rightly makes the calculation of  ‘less speed = less pain’ which is of course true but it doesn’t take into account the greater  possibility of clearing the obstacle at the higher speed and thus, no pain.

There is another part of the physics equation that I either forgot about or just didn’t have time to compute after landing very close to those gnarly mother fu**er roots.  The bunny hop.  The simple thing here was that those roots stood at around half a metre or 50cm, whereas my front axle stands around 36 or 37cm.  For the mass of my flying body and bike to have any chance of going up and over the roots, my axle (or to be more scientific, what would soon be my ‘Pivot Point’) needed to be above the gnarly mofo root height.  Without the hop, it wasn’t.

My Runkeeper GPS showed and initial speed of just under 20mph before coming to a complete and abrupt stop using only the hard forest floor as cushioning. I remember hitting the roots, then seeing the track fast approaching my face as my arms naturally stretched out to break my fall.  Then, I thought it was over as I lay in the dirt until my bike came crashing in on top of me in some sick kind of comedy fashion.

Laying on the floor like a stale sack of potatoes, I went through my self checks.  Hole in my knee, very pale skin, some blood.  Right forearm light scratching, right hand, light scratching, left foot – big toe very painful. Moaning from the shock, I continued self checks and was still in one piece.  About 15 seconds later – Poopie caught up, slowed as he negotiated the new obstacle in the middle of the track and then called out ‘Looks like I will beat you to the bottom this time’ as he released his brakes and pedaled on – the wanker!  Never even stopped to see if I was OK.  I later found out that this was because he was afraid of finding broken bones poking out of skin and general bloodiness.

Thankfully, the bike survived without damage.  I can’t say without a scratch because it is already full of them, I wouldn’t notice a new one.  It does mean however that since Wednesday last week, I haven’t been able to keep up with my run training.  I am hoping to get out again tomorrow.

 

Eating on a budget is where this all started.  I was in Sainsbury’s yesterday and looking for some baked beans.  I had a flashback to a TV program some time ago where they compared own brand foods to big label stuff.  One thing that had stuck in my mind was their baked bean experiment.  I decided to give it a go for myself.

Heinz baked beans – the main stay of any childs diet that liked to fart.  I found many variants of these on the shelf, 90p per can.  I looked around and found a Sainers own brand for 40p and then looking even further, found another Sainers own brand for just 25p.  Sneaky I thought.  But what is the nutritional comparison?  Well, this is where I got a shock.  Both the cheaper brands were  lower in Sugar and Salt – that has to be a winner right?

The taste test needed to be completed so this morning I had beans on toast.  I bought a can of each of the own brands to see what the difference was.  This morning I opted for the 25p can.  No ‘easy open’ lid so I had to get the can opener out but let me tell you – these were good.  They did in fact taste a bit sweeter than how I remember Heinz but for almost a quarter of the price, I had a healthier option.

So a can of beans for 25p, three slices of bread from my fresh loaf that cost £1 (I reckon that’s 10p a slice), a smidge of Lurpak Spreadable 5p and not including the electricity for cooking, I reckon I had a champions breakfast this morning for around 60 pence.

I ROCK !!!

 

 

This post is dedicated to Amy Horne of Leamington Spa – who despite her flatulence problem, is still brave enough to be seen in public.


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