Had the great pleasure of attending the above mentioned establishment yesterday. Now on a normal day I tend to credit myself with having a tiny bit of common sense, but apparently yesterday was not to be one of those days.
I’m a bit new to the distribution centre game, i’ve been into them before on a previous job collecting pallets for CHEP. But you could jump queues, clog the yard up, wander around and generally bend the rules a bit with that.
Never been to Magor before, pulled up at security, not really knowing the procedure, I stopped short and hopped out to talk to Mr Security man, let him know I had a delivery of yorkshires finest leaves for him. He seemed most delighted and informed me how to use the intercom that I had stopped three feet short of at drivers window height. Doh 
The man on the other end takes my delivery number, and informs me he has no bays for me, so to park up and come to the office. I enquire as to where the office was… the “big sticky out bit” says he. Righty ho, so duly parked up after a pathetic blindside attempt across four empty bays but get there in the end. Hopped down, and headed for the aforementioned sticky out bit. Apart from the label of reception, once inside there isn’t a great deal in the way of signage to help, but plenty of corridors that go everywhere, so I enlisted the advice of an employee observing a notice board.
I have my marching orders; “left, right, out through there, round the back and you’ll see it”. Right you are, off I trot, eventually appeared outside, on a side of the building I hadn’t seen yet, followed the yellow numpty path, past the fitters garages, eventually arrive at … “goods out” 
. It’s going well, so I explain my muppetry and get directed across the middle of the busy warehouse floor, I am dubious about this, as normally this is off limits to a stranger from the outside, but i’m encouraged that things are different here (Wales I assume 
) and off I go. I locate goods in, knock the door, and announce my arrival. They are pleased to see me, but inform me that I am the wrong side of the desk. Seem quite surprised how I had managed to reach that point.
No problem I declare, i’ve come this far! Retreat beaten, and as I can see daylight, I assume there will be a door to the outside nearby. The one I found was locked, so I was directed by a helpful employee to another option “more lefts, rights and through theres” and we arrive. The logical door to the outside… bolted and padlocked. I return to the helpful employee who assumes I have it wrong, and i’m inclined to believe him at this point. So he leads me like a lost dog to the padlocked door. Elementary my Dear Watson!
Advice sought on an appropriate way to goods in, a small discussion with a further three warhouse people concludes that I am perhaps best off cutting my losses and going back the way I came. 
Now, I don’t need to be told anything twice, so back I go across the warehouse floor, and back outside through goods out. I neglected to make eye contact at this point, what was left of my soul wouldn’t have been able to take it.
Once outside I figured, that as I was half way round, it would be as quick to continue as to turn back, so I completed my lap down the quietest side of the warehouse, away from as many eyes as possible, only the shunters hang out here it would seem, and with starboard eyebrows firmly raised; their looks said more than words would ever need to.
Finally arrived at goods in, about 40 paces from my original ■■■■■■■■■■■■
About twenty minutes since I buzzed the gate, enough time for about half a dozen bays to free up for me.
I pulled on to the bay, then crept back to goods in and crawled inside one of the chairs with the stuffing ripped open until I was poked and told to leave. As punishment the good people of the warehouse tried to steal my pump truck, but I eventually persuaded it into the back of my trailer once again.
Bet tesco are glad to have such good people like me delivering in there. Did I pass the test? Can I have a look at the tapes when the tesco middle management have finished laughing themselves sick at them? Anyone else completed the lap?
If on your travels you see some wobbly lemming bimbling around some forgotten corner of a god forsaken RDC, can you give him a push in the right direction. He will be me, and he will be grateful
Magna Park tomorrow, that’s in Scotland right? 
Watch out transport world!
Normally, I’d laugh but your story reminds me of several similar incidents I’ve had at R.d.c’s and I know just how you must’ve felt.