& çâÌæÚUæð´ ·¤è ¥ôÚU Îð¹Ùæ ÁæÚUè ÚU¹ð´ ¥ÍæüÌ ¥ÂÙð ÜÿØ ÂÚU ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´Ð ãæÚU Ù ×æÙð´, €UØô´ç·¤ ·¤æ× ·¤ÚUÙð âð ¥æÂ·¤ô ©gðàØ ·¤è Âýæç# ãôÌè ãñ ¥õÚU ÁèßÙ ·¤æ ¹æÜèÂÙ ÎêÚU ãôÌæ ãñÐ ÖÜð ãè ÁèßÙ ×ð´ ç·¤ÌÙè Öè ·¤çÆÙæ§ü €UØô´ Ù ¥æ°, çÁ™ææâæ ¥õÚU ©ˆâæã ÕÙæ° ÚU¹ð´Ð ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´, ÜÿØ ã×ðàææ ¥æÂ·Ô¤ Âæâ ãôÌð ãñ´ çÁ‹ãð´ ÂæÙð ·Ô¤ çÜ° ÂýØæâ ¥æÂ ·¤Öè Öè àæéM¤ ·¤ÚU â·¤Ìð ãñ´Ð

Shopping by Sat-Nav is here
REAL men don't shop. We make incursions into enemy territory.
(1) Locate supermarket, (2) access aisles, (3) liberate beer, (4) return to base, (5) mission accomplished. Cheers!
During the mission, our main interest is keeping collateral damage
to innocent parties, i.e. the banknotes in our wallets, within an acceptable
range.
It's totally different for the women I know. Incredible but true, many females like spending money. To me, bidding farewell to even the smallest banknote is like losing a family member. When asked for cash at shop counters, I frequently feel the urge to say: "Can you just take one of my uncles instead?"
Now, here's some astonishing news. Boffins are working on technology to help men shop. A new service allows a man to go to the supermarket and be guided directly to the product he wants by a Sat-Nav voice coming out of his phone.
"In five meters turn left. Nearly there. Turn left now. On the second shelf on your right you'll find the can of beer you wanted. Enjoy it, you pathetic drunk." Me: “What did you just call me?" SAT NAV: "Nothing."
The system was set up last year at a branch of Tesco Supermarkets in the UK for trials, but the store has not released results. It is very suspicious. Rumour has it that executives want to destroy the technology after they noticed that people who use the system spent less money.
It could be true. Shops don't want you to just get what you want. They want you to get 17 other things that you don't want as well.
I mean, look at the way that department store staircases or escalators never match up with each other. You go up one level and then the next stair case or escalator is miles away, often hidden in a separate wing of the building, or in the toilet corridor, or on an inaccessible ledge outside, so that you have to pass every product on every shelf before you find it.
I once was trapped on the fourth level of a department store in Tokyo and there didn't seem to be any downward escalators at all. Many of the customers were elderly, and I began to suspect that they had arrived as young people 40 years earlier, probably at the store's opening party.
Had I not found a cargo lift in the staff corridor, I would still be there today.