What is the matter with the world today, rather with supermarkets today that someone in power, rather in management– can’t command, rather delegate the simple task of cutting up the coconut for the special customer who enjoys keeping all his/her integers? Don’t they have machines for this so that nobody feels sacrificial as their making stew.
So we come upon the tropical and mysterious fury fruit, some days–coconut is regarded as a fruit. We pick it up, smell it, juggle it in one hand, listen to it as it swirls around in itself, picking two more so I can juggle them– expertly I might add and while no one is looking. In a store the size of a football field, although a few gawkers– nobody dares stop me from juggling my coconuts for a long,long time.
Finally, what looks like a manager complete with his own halo walks up to me, and pretends not to notice me but commences filling up the already swollen coconut booth, directly between the squash and the sweet potatoes….“Can I help you with something”? Says Elie Filmore, store manager. I answer him with another question – a tactic I personally employ when I know I will be ticked off at the likely forthcoming stupid answer. “As a matter of fact, you can. Mr. Filmore is it, may I ask you a question”? “Absolutely, that’s why we’re here”. Lets find out together, if this was a true statement. ” Why”? I start, “don’t you pre slice your coconuts for your customers”? While his eyelids blink at an unnatural rate as he summons his catalogue answer for me, I gesture to the hill of coconuts, behind me the clients stop to look at and stroll right by without buying due the finger food that’s promised instead.
” Surely you must have some kind of apparatus you keep in your store behind the flappy black curtain that only store members are allowed to disappear in”. At this juncture, he yells, “I can assure you madame, there is no such sorcery going on behind back there where we’re able to magically cut this fruit for you or your merry squad of Harry Potter ingredients you’re holding in your cart ready to concoct a stew of sorts.” He’s on to me. He adds, store policy doesn’t cover injury and for me to stop asking so many uncomfortable questions. He’s really on to me. ” Then perhaps”, I continue… “a bigger knife or a jack hammer would be the ticket, a saw, a cutting blade, repetitively throwing the confused fruit against the delivery garage door., placed under the four wheeled store forklift vehicle, bungee jumped down from the asylum looking second floor, or a dynamite stick inserted in it. Something, anything.
I was then asked to step away from his coconuts. Fine. I will. But its not the last they’ve seen of me nor my Pinterest with video recipes. I’ll be back– I live about a minute away.