STOCKING "SCRUM"

New Zealand Herald, Volume 78, Issue 24049, 21 August 1941, Page 3

STOCKING "SCRUM"

A MAN ENTERS THE FRAY FORGE AND STRATEGY FAIL 1200 PAIRS IN 25 MINUTES BY E.B.A. Silk stockings were available at a city store yesterday, and, if nuggets of gold had been discovered lying loose in Queen Street, there could not have been a wilder scramble. I was there and I know. But from now on my fiancee can go bare-legged, for all I care. It all started when I entered a city office. The lift descended, and I was almost knocked off my feet by stampeding women. The liftman shrugged his shoulders and muttered: "They tell me there are some stockings in so-and-so's store." He was preparing for a long dissertation on the frailty of women, when the frantic buzzing of the lift bell rudely interrupted him. "More women," he sighed edly.Now, I had been told at length by my fiancee that she was down to her last pair of silk stockings. Although vaguely realising the consequences, what could a man do? I took a deep breath and pelted off after the women -employees, who were fading into the distance with the intent look of hounds scenting the kill. Milling Throng After surveying the milling throng, my first impulse was to bolt. I compromised by buying a box of matches while summoning sufficient courage to take the plunge. And plunge I did. I thought, after many years of struggling, heaving and kicking in the middle of a football scrum, that I had mastered the technique of in-fighting, and it was with confidence that I entered the fourth row of chattering women at the counter. All my experience was useless. I entered the second row feeling rather like Joe Louis dealing with his latest "knock-down." Then the trouble started. I was confronted by three women who could hold anv All Black scrum together. I macle the fatal mistake of pausing to regather _my failing strength, and a combination of elbows, umbrellas and handbags descended on me. Back I was in the fourth row and I had to admit I was beaten. Customers' Stories Force having failed, I resorted to strategy. I reasoned that, as I was one of the three males present, I might be able to work the oracle by smiling appealingly at one of the many pretty assistants. This worked all right, and I received a flashing smile in return, but that would hardly satisfy my fiancee. "Only one pair to each person," I hoard an assistant say. "Yes, but I want one pair for myself and one for my sister," replied a customer. The ruse did not work. Another customer was pouring out a pathetic story about a widowed mother who could not attend, but it received just as much satisfaction. Eventually the crowd thinned out, and I worked my way to the counter. I might have known it was a trap. _ "Nothing left," said an attractive assistant. "I'm sorry, sir, you should have come earlier." It turned out that the store had approximately 1200 pairs of silk stockings. They were offered at 4 o'clock, and at 4.27 the counter was bare, and the customers, satisfied and otherwise, had vanished. It seemed like a dream. "Why not join the army of women who look in every five minutes of the day to see if there is a crowd at the stocking counter?" suggested an assistant. "And bring your lunch, top. was the parting shot of another girl.