Skip to content

What is it they sell in supermarkets again?

March 8, 2015
cat-aloupe

GMO really is a anagram of OMG!

Found an intriguing little cutout in a Paper recycling bin today. Perhaps it was part of a child’s school assignment on modern grocery store produce. It certainly looks like the sort of genetically-modified fare I imagine is being sold these days.

As a homeless person, I admit that I’m a little out of the loop as to what’s actually in store for people among the fruits and vegetables in a modern supermarket — if I go into one these days, I rarely get any farther than the beverage container return counter.

But given what I’ve read (and fear) about GMO crops, someone will have to convince me that such things as “cat-aloupes” are not already available on store shelves.

My dim supermarket memories

The last time I actually bought “groceries” in a supermarket was in December of 2009; in the since-demolished IGA that occupied the old swoopy-roofed Marina-style Safeway building at Maple Street and West Broadway Avenue — I miss that IGA; the aisles were named after east-west “tree” streets in the the Fairview neighbourhood (sigh).

That was the first time I had shopped in a supermarket in nearly five years and upon checking out my first prices. an involuntary “are you fucking kidding me?” escaped my lips and wafted all the way through the store to the ears of one of the IGA managers who recognized my voice and chided me for my language.

All the managers knew me, both as a daily bottle counter customer and as someone they had once encouraged to apply for a stock-person job.

On their urging I had indeed applied for a job at the IGA and been rejected on the basis of the written psychological test, which I failed, a manager informed me, in a singular manner.

This same manager had even warned me how to avoid an immediate fail by telling me how to properly answer the first question, which went something like: “You know your brother is breaking the law. Do you turn him in?”

That question, like most of the rest that followed it, was designed not to gauge my honesty so much as determine if I could give my unquestioned loyalty to my employer.

The test was salted here-and-there with some wonderful, clanging non sequiturs like: “Are people out to get you?” (I kid you not).

I’m actually something of an old hand at psychological tests going back to my childhood; the earliest such test that I recall involved being invited to take my pick of toys in a play area. I don’t know, perhaps the test could anticipate the subject figuring it out and the psychologists still gleaned useful data from the fact that I deliberately chose the most violent toys on offer (given the choices being made for me in other areas of my life in those days, I rather doubt it).

Faced back in 2006 or 2007 with the supermarket psych test I glumly saw that the stock person’s job could only be mine if I lied. In fact I considered that most intelligent people were expected to suss this fact and that the willingness to lie to get the job was possibly an over-arching test of the test.

I knew that I wasn’t getting the job because I wasn’t willing to lie (certainly not for bleeping minimum wage).

The result of my answering every question honestly was that I earned the highest possible score concerning customer service and the lowest possible score when it came to being loyal to the interests of my employer.

Hearing this actually made me smile — just what you might expect, I thought, of someone who had spent the majority of their working life freelancing; which I believed was about one part self promotion and three parts customer service by the way.

Later, when I worked for two years at the Masonic Centre, I further validated the results of the psych test by being in almosr daily conflict with the directors of the building society while constantly winning rave reviews from the outside groups who’s events I set up and managed.

I would say that it’s not true that cats (and perhaps cat-aloupes) can’t change their spots, I think it’s just that as they get older they get very comfortable in their skins and just aren’t willing to change without a very, very good reason.

I have no idea what that last bit has to do with supermarkets either. Click the image to enlarge it.

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: