The Mushroom Doubters
I am staring at nothing. My brain is on screen-saver, lulled by the bustle and the bleeps of the supermarket experience.
There is no reason why I should get A Bit Cross.
The cashier woman reaches for the next item. It is a brown bag that I have half-filled with mushrooms. It has the word ‘mushrooms’ on the front of it. On the back is a recipe for mushroom risotto. To even the casual observer, this is clearly a bag of mushrooms.
She pauses, opens the bag and peers inside. Technically, I cannot object. Up until the point of payment, this bag and its contents are the property of the supermarket and, as an employee of said establishment, she can do whatever she wants with ‘my’ goods.
Satisfied, she weighs and *bleeps* the bag.
It’s just the inference of the whole ritual. I have tolerated it for years, but I feel this is getting silly.
Does she really think I have stuffed the bag with supermarket gold, frankincence and myrrh and am trying to pass it off as not-as-expensive mushrooms?
I have never been charged, let alone convicted, of non-mushroom fraud in my life. If I had, I would probably accept this level of suspicion.
What do you expect to find in there, you bottle-blonde slattern? One of your shitty DVD players?
I shall write a letter.