Let’s give a round of applause to the team. These people are specialists in crowd control. They can restock a shelf while a queue snakes to the door.
They know the regulars. They know your usual order. “The usual ‘sad desk lunch’ again, Susie?” They say it with a wink. It makes you feel seen.
And their patience is legendary. You’ll see a customer blocking the entire aisle, debating between two types of hummus. The staff member just smiles. They’re part therapist, part ninja.
The Legendary Checkout Queue
The queue is a Cambridge social experiment. It’s a theatre of small talk. You’ll find yourself discussing the weather with a Nobel laureate. Or debating the best biscuit with a tourist.
Here’s the Full List of Confirmed New Little Waitrose Stores Coming to
The self-checkout is a tiny wonder. It’s always beeping. It always asks for your “Waitrose Card.” Just say yes. It makes the machine happy.
And then there’s the counter. It’s barely big enough for your basket. You and the cashier are in a polite, close-quartered dance. It’s oddly charming.
