Cataract Resin 9

“Top floor Shoppers’ Paradise we've got a drunk Father Christmas and The Antichrist. We've got nothing of value so there's no V.A.T. we're going S.H.O.P.P.I.N.G. We take Visa, Access, American Express

patched-up, hand-me-down, second to next best clothes for all ages, mothers and babies.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls the big shop is open it's a wonderful world"

(Shoppers' Paradise - Carter USM, 30 Something, Cooking Vinyl Records)

That song has been rattling through my head for some time now. I have no doubt in my mind that if Jimbob and Fruitbat had written it a few years later it would have a verse about online shopping. And what a joy online shopping is.

Click, Click, Click, wait. Ding Dong! Here's your merchandise. Christ, that was quick, and I didn't even need to leave the house. Wonderful.

Oh, if only it were that simple. Don't get me wrong, there are some wonderful things that I have bought over the internet that I would never be able to get my hands on elsewhere. But I've also had my fair share of disappointments, which I certainly wouldn't have had if I had gone to a “real” shop.

Let me tell you about my most recent experience. I ordered my father's christmas present in December, assured by the website that I still had “Two Working Days Left!” to be guaranteed to receive the merchandise prior to the 25th. So I clicked, clicked, clicked, and I waited. And waited. And waited. And nothing happened. And so after Christmas I checked my email, and found a message saying “Sorry you haven't got your stuff, we need to wait for it to come in. Thank you for allowing us to ruin

your Father's Christmas“, or words to that effect.

So, non-plussed, I dug in and waited some more. And a little more. Then I got an email telling me that my purchase had been dispatched and it should arrive the next day. Great! So I tell my Dad, and he gets all excited. But the package never arrived. Damn. So I wait and wait some more. A week passes, and still no sign. So I phone them up, or rather, my Mother phones them up on my behalf, as I didn't have time with exams looming etc. Apparently, they're not allowed to give information out to anyone but the account holder, which is fair enough, good security, etc. But it's annoying as hell.

Still, only mildly perturbed, I resume waiting. Later that week, I get a phone call from my Mum, saying that the package had come (As I was staying with my parents over Christmas, I had them deliver the goods to that address). “Great,” I said, “Don't open it until I'm there.”

So that weekend, I drive back to my Parents' house from college and prepare to give my Dad his present. Funny, that package looks a little small to be “The Complete World At War Boxed Set On VHS” . . . So I open it. And the invoice clearly states “The Complete World At War Boxed Set On VHS - 65 Pounds" So I look at the contents of the parcel, which clearly states “NOT The Complete World At War Boxed Set On VHS“, or words to that effect (It was in fact, only a single tape from the boxed set). So I phoned up again, and was told that they were “Currently upgrading the system” (Why is it that whenever a company UPGRADES its system, it operates less efficiently that before?). I explained the problem and now I need to return the duff order and wait, and wait, and wait for the Ding Dong! Here's your merchandise. Christ, that was quick, and I didn't even need to leave the house. Wonderful.

Alright. That's a worst case scenario, I suppose. If I'd have known this would happen I would have gone elsewhere -- but “The Complete World At War Boxed Set On VHS” is apparently not available in any of the shops I looked in. So once again, the internet allows me to get my hands on items unavailable in “real” shops.

Now, for me, and for many people, that's where online shopping ends. We use it as a way of finding old, usually second hand items, out of print books, imported goods, etc. etc. But many people find the experience so convenient that they would sell their soul for more crap bought across

the internet. In other words, “Click, Click, Click, wait. Ding Dong! Here's your merchandise. Christ, that was quick, and I didn't even need to leave the house. Wonderful.” becomes “Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, wait. Ding Dong! We're the bailiff's and we've come for your stuff. Oh shit, not my stuff! Yes. Move aside. Bang Bang, Vroom. Sob.”

There are people that buy their weekly grocery shopping from the Tesco website. People who are too damned lazy to get off their fat arses and walk to the shop. They sit at home, out of the sun, never venturing out except to travel to an office job maybe, equally out of the sun, where their skin turns pasty white and they turn into hideous parodies of human beings. Alright, maybe it's not that extreme.

The point I'm stressing here is that people NEED to shop IN SHOPS. Click, Click, Click is no substitute for getting out in the fresh air (even if it's pissing it down with rain), entering a shop and (most importantly) getting some human bloody contact. Even if you don't buy anything, your day will not have been wasted. Go shopping with some friends. If you have no friends, don't worry. Go to a shop that specialises in something that interests you and talk to the shopkeeper. Trust me, these people are bored rigid most of the day. They'll welcome a customer who has something to say other than “Plonk. Cheers. Cha-Ching.”

(Note that this same message can be applied to internet chat rooms. Don't spend all day typing in messages when you could be out meeting people. But I digress).

So, your homework for this week is to get together with a friend (or not if you have none) and go shopping. You don't need any money, because you don't need to buy anything. Just look round shops, Take the piss out of shit clothes, moan about prices, say “Fuck me, that's cool” at stuff in gadget shops. If you have no friends, go to a bookshop, comic shop, video shop (porn shop?) or something and talk to the shopkeeper (Indie shops, not chain stores. The guys behind the tills in those ones are like something from “The Stepford Wives”).

Email me with the stories of your shopping trips. The best will get a place in next week's Cataract Resin. You can exaggerate as much as you like, but you're not allowed to completely make things up (For instance, say you went to the shop and there was a rather rotund guy blocking the exit, you could say “Christ, he weighed in at about a ton, seriously, and was eight feet across. They needed to get the fire brigade in to move him through the door!”, but you wouldn't be able to say “He was so fat, and then these eight arms came out of his face and his skin turned inside out.”)