Anything we need from the supermarket? A question to strike fear and panic into the hearts of millions. The answer is always yes, but who can remember what? Here are five people you'll meet as you shop.
The Fondler
Illustration by Richard Dale
Getting very handsy in the vege aisle, this Trump of the Turnips knows no bounds. Prodding all the produce, his rummaging fingers seek out the ripest avocado, the firmest tomato; who knows what he's feeling for on the broccoli but he gives it a good grope too. He does that thing where you hold a melon to your ear and tap it, perhaps hoping to hear an answering knock and find inside the vegetable woman of his dreams. Forget manure and pesticide, the Fondler is the reason you wash your fruit and maybe have a shower when you get home.
A grim looking person in a white chef-ish cap lurks behind a cardboard kitchen. An ancient appliance called an "electric frypan" (kids, ask your grandparents), sizzles some tiny morsels of sausage. They look greasy and pale, whispering of sodium and the more private parts of light-deprived pig, but it's nearly dinnertime and the savoury smell calls to a primitive part of you. You furtively add to the little ramekin of moist, discarded toothpicks, take the coupon you never intend to use, and as fat sputters all over the grim person's branded apron, move on.
The Supermartyr
Illustration by Richard Dale
Never seen without a dodgy trolley wheel, a paper list and a sense of pious oppression. Some people hate shopping and it hates them back; they're always in the wrong queue and their item is never in the bagging area. Their yoghurt isn't the one on special and Shania Twain is on the loudspeaker again. They bear it all without complaint, but cast their suffering eyes heavenward and forget to buy rubbish bags. They say virtue is its own reward but the Supermartyr really, really hopes not.
The Lingerer
Illustration by Richard Dale
They use an app to scan labels for palm oil; they use a calorie converter because they can't remember how many kilojoules to a calorie and wonder why can't we use calories like normal people. Fastidious about free range, line-caught, food miles and sustainability, they're most frequently seen sighing and putting things back, wishing they could afford to go to Farro. Other shoppers just wish they'd move their damn trolley slightly to the damn left, damn it.
The Microshopper
Illustration by Richard Dale
You know what they say about her: basket so small you can see what she's having for breakfast. We're a nation of tiny shoppers, popping in to grab a few essentials on a daily basis. Maybe it's too hard to guess what you'll feel like for tomorrow's dinner, or maybe we can't afford houses big enough for cupboards. Maybe our house is a cupboard. Or do we actually quite like the supermarket, that fluorescent palace of possibility where the new ludicrous flavour of Tim Tam counts as a reckless splurge? The Microshopper knows, but her single grapefruit and roll of aluminium foil aren't telling.
