THE HULK GETS QUIETLY MAD IN ARGOS

"Hulk like grammar!"

I was going crazy in a queue at Argos the other day. It's an extraordinary shop, Argos. You pick what you want from a catalogue, write down its reference number, queue up to pay for it, watch its journey from the treasure cave behind the tills to the front of the store via a glowing digital screen, then queue up again to collect it.

"Order Number 269 to your collection point please," says a disembodied voice.

I had a train to catch and my insides were getting tangled up with frustration. Behind the collection point, a couple of teenagers were quietly discussing a colleague out of earshot. Not out of my earshot though.

You know, there aren't many things that tangle up my insides. Over the years, I've tried to contain my fury when a nearby diner slurps food into a noisy mouth or scrapes a fork across a china plate. I've restrained myself (I think marvellously) when I hear 'less' instead of 'fewer' and I reckon I've done a pretty good job of holding back the Hulk when cut up by taxis on the Junction 12 roundabout.

I've always thought it's best to hold him in, rather than let him go off on a verbal rampage. When I got to the front of the queue at Argos, one of the teenagers asked me to tap in my email address and offered me a grubby-looking keyboard over the counter. She didn't tell me why, and at first she wouldn't let me see the screen. I took a deep breath, buried the burning fires of radioactive rage with a gulp, and told her that I couldn't possibly type without seeing the screen and that if it was for an e-receipt she'd get a better response if she explained that from the outset. It was all fine.

However, just like the Hulk, right at the top of the list of furious frustrations - is not being understood, and underneath it is not being listened to - something which happens a lot in shops, for some reason. I've got to work really hard to let these things go.

This morning in a planning meeting, I said:

"Well, I think it's probably better to gather the statistics in a nice measured scientific way, rather than rely on objective analysis."

... which I agree is a pretty geeky way of saying a thing, but crucially, is not composed of words from a foreign language.

"Mmhm." said Chris, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

"Why don't we let the numbers do the talking?" said someone else, brightly.

"Great idea! Of course!" replied Chris.

THAT'S THE SAME THING! screamed my inner pedant while I closed my eyes in disbelief. Down Hulk, down.

I was suddenly caught up in the notion that I should employ a translator - someone who could just come with me wherever I go and figure out whatever I'm going on about. His job (if a he it be) would be to decode what I'm saying, read between the lines of my flowery politeness and just say it how it is.

The trouble is, I definitely don't think I should take him to Argos.