The Mushroom Doubters
*Bleep* One tub of double cream. *Bleep* A wedge of stilton. *Bleep* A bag of spinach. *Bleep* A bag of tagliatelli
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.
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.
posted by Tired Dad at
3:28 am
11 Comments:
I suggest you write not to the store manager, but rather a strongly worded letter tot The Times.
Yes siree that would be the proper English thing to do.
As for mushroom fraud...If I ever manage to get convicted of such a crime I shall frame the court citation.
Amanda: It's not you. This has been going on since I was eighteen. A long time ago. I must just have one of those faces. You know. Hmmmmm. Better double-check that mushroom bag. He doesn't look right.
D: Never mind The Times. The Guardian Gets Things Done.
Re: Mushroom Fraud. If it has ever happened, The Guardian have covered it in a 'hey, let's not get carried away, there are two sides to every story' manner.
I am buying loose nuts in a Health Food shop. The till lady says, 'are you allergic to nuts?'. I say 'no'. She says, 'that's just as well, because you're buying nuts, aren't you?"
Christ on a bike.
NWM: Prove to me that said event took place and I shall still not believe it.
And stay away from health food shops - they are frequented by the most pasty-faced ill-looking people I have ever seen. It can't be good for anyone.
At least she recognised them as mushrooms. Have you never been on the receiving end of that desperate look that asks: "apples or pears" when the teeny weeny oval sticker is missing?
Copy me in. I want to see the letter. Please?
MM: That CANNOT be true.
Dinners: I'm still thinking of the best way of wording it.
God, you should see the fuckwits at our Sainsbury's. "Is that a garlic?" they'll ask. Or "That's ginger, isn't it?" When presented with a sweet potato, their poor fucking brain explodes. "Waaa, waaaa, does not compute, does not compute! BOOOM!!"
ANd the faces on that poor cunt when we asked him if they sold rocket. "That's like lettuce, isn't it?" He worked on the salad bar...
Try asking for Porcini mushrooms. Jesus.
they check the eggs too
No. NO.
In Germany, or do you mean in the real world?
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