Last Christmas Tesco spent millions signing up the Spice Girls to push trolleys around its aisles.
Staff at Crystal Jade in Melbourne's Chinatown push trolleys laden with plump dumplings, rice noodles and chicken feet to your table.
Nearby, slick eels splash noisily in a tank and a tray of catfish fight for their last breaths, as men push trolleys past elderly women doing their morning shopping.
Dressed in short shorts and tight black polo-shirts, the strapping young members of the Moscow Ping Pong Club swipe balls furiously to and fro, while solemn babushkas push trolleys of steaming pelmeni dumplings between them, their wheels occasionally getting snagged in the plush purple carpet.
Lithuanian mothers pushed trolleys down aisles of pickles of mindboggling size.
Young boys pushed trolleys along the road with empty containers to fill up from a tanker.
Staff will complete orders by pushing trolleys round a warehouse laid out like a store.
No cleaners, no security, no passengers pulling luggage or pushing trolleys in hijabs or shorts or travelling shawls.
There is no obvious role for anything between, especially if it involves being peered at suspiciously by security guards or pushing trolleys down miles of identical aisles.
But among the throngs of mothers and schoolchildren pushing trolleys to fill with school manuals at a discounted price, it is easy to lose sight of them.
"People with learning disabilities want a proper job," he says, "not just pushing trolleys, but the attitude is 'you have a job – be grateful'".
