Ryan Amor

Going into our local supermarket today, I spied at the corner of my eye, ridiclously small pottles of salad going for $10. What a scam I thought.

But barely 10 minutes later at the deli section, I scammed myself into buying a pottle of raw broccoli and cranberry salad for $15. I had a very delayed realisation to what I had purchased which was triggered by a pile of fresh broccoli which was $3.50 a piece. I could have made it myself, I thought outraged.

But I was too embarrassed to go back and say to the poor girl at the deli counter that I had changed my mind because I only realised a full 3 minutes later that it was too expensive for what it was, even though after weighing it, she did say the total price out loud to which I actually said in response, it’s fine. I could return it, but I just didn’t want to be that person.

And then I thought, wait- I could simply leave the pottle of salad on a shelf! We were browsing at the meats aisle, and I could discreetly leave the pottle somewhere on the shelves of pork loins, chicken cutlets and lamb racks and it would be fine because it’s a chilled area and some staff would find it and bring it back to the deli.

Mmmmmm, I don’t think it works that way Sam says. They’re not going to bring it back to the deli for health & safety reasons. They’ll just bin it.

Well, who cares I said. It’s their fault for selling over-priced vegetables, these greedy supermarket cartels. For $15, I could have bought two full packets of salad mixes that could feed a family of 6.

But I didn’t. And deep inside, a different realisation was starting to set in and suddenly, thankfully, sanity returned. Outrage was replaced by shame; I am not going to become this other person who is more awful than the other one.

When the supermarket opened not too long ago, it had so much promise. It was clean and shiny. The fresh produce had fresh artichokes. The bakery sold six kinds of sourdough.

But then it attracted a fair bit of these people who would come in the middle of the day, still dressed in tatty dressing gowns; or had rowdy kids in tow that they didn’t bother to control; or who had loud running conversations for everyone to hear, or who randomly picked fights and arguments with other shoppers, or the staff.

Or who left stuff like minced beef on the canned goods aisle. This was the offense that offended us the most. What kind of person does this?? Is it a stretch to believe that if they can do this, they’re also capable of leaving their pets and their children inside a car on a hot day? Or get out of it at a red light to confront you for honking at something that was clearly their mistake?

And as if God was deliberately stirring the pot further, there were two individuals at the baked goods section manhandling the breads and pastries. No tongs, no consideration. Mr Wonderful picks up a danish with his fingers, inspects it, puts it back and picks up a strudel next. He then shows it to his friend, this woman wrapped in a velour house robe, feet bare who in turn pokes at it, because why??? Did the danish and the strudel have written instructions on them, a list of the ingredients on what went into making them??

Look away, look away we tell ourselves because our eyes were burning, our mouths in a tight line. We check our stuff out in silence and head home.

The broccoli salad was actually more than good. It was great, the sweet and tangy dressing perfectly balanced and I tell Sam this.

But I still hate that fucking supermarket.