According to Little Miss S, the Customer is an Idiot

Today was our second haul from the co-op! Mister E picked it up again and reported that we go some extras today: the fabled “case ends.” After they split up the cases of food, sometimes there are things left over. The volunteers split this up as fairly as possible and we all win. Here you see Wasabi trying to decide if there are any things in the produce that she can eat (she later ate some broccoli leaves).

Helpful cat is helpful.

And here is the contents of the basket all spread out! This week we got 2 heads of green leaf lettuce, a massive pineapple, two more cukes, two broccoli crowns, several ears of corn, a bunch of bananas, a box of blackberries, a basket of cherry tomatoes, and a pile each of oranges, apples, kiwi fruits and bell peppers!

So many noms!

If you think it looks like I have experience putting together fruit and veggie displays, you’re right! I worked at a small health food store some 6 years ago. The store was run by hippies, which means we got no benefits but plenty of perks, like buying groceries on credit and cooking full healthy meals in our back kitchen for the staff to share. We also had an herb garden in front of the store in a planter that we used for said meals.

One day we were sampling prosciutto and crackers, much to the delight of our customers, many of whom were also hippies. A girl about my age came up, looked at the sign, then took a sample. “This is so good,” she said through her mouthful of food. “What is it?”

“Prosciutto,” I said. “Marbled ham from Italy.” From the way she screamed, you would have thought I threw an angler fish at her.


She ran out of the store and proceeded to spit her chewed-up food into our herb garden while I watched in shock. When she came back inside, she looked as if she’d just suffered a great ordeal. “Oh, that was awful,” she said, putting her hand on her chest dramatically. “I’m vegan! I would never have eaten it if I knew.”

On that particular day, I was not in the mood for her crap. Don’t get me wrong, two of my dearest friends are vegan. They also aren’t stupid enough to just eat things they find on counters and assume they’re plant-based. “I’m going to tell you two things,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “First, if you have dietary restrictions I’d advise you to ask what you’re eating before you put it in your mouth. Second, you just spit into our herb garden. We use those to cook.” She apologized, right before she tried to lecture me about having samples of meat where “just anyone could eat it.” Then my honey badger of a boss showed up, freaked out about the state of her chocolate mint plant and chased the girl out of the store with a rolled-up yoga magazine.

Sometimes I really miss that place.


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