Traditional 1940's headscarf, old fashioned wicker shopping basket, cut glass accent (not from round ere then?), has a bungalow in The Village, a piss poor attitude to shop staff and a compulsion for batteries.
She comes in the shop religiously every 14 days to complain about our Duracell batteries she bought the previous visit. She gripes that the batteries are aways flat and each time I get my battery tester out to prove to her that there is nothing wrong with them and they are always fully charged. I should have realised there was a rabbit off somewhere when I noticed she had special label stuck to each battery, which she meticulously writes on the date, time and hair colour of the person who sold it to her. It was all I could do not to giggle, when I recently read 03/08/11 9.03am Bald.... Must have been my Dad who served her...lol :)
She refuses to believe that there is nothing wrong with the batteries we sell to her and as we run a recycling scheme, she just buys new ones every two weeks. She complains bitterly about the amount of money it costs her, bitches about the quality of Duracell and the staff, who serve her and clearly lie to her about them being new. We have no idea what she uses them for, but we have great fun in speculating....
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