Yep. That’s a big onion, isn’t it? My goodness, that is practically the Godzilla of onions, right there. What would you say if I were to ask you what kind of an onion this is? Let’s expand the exercise even further: You’re the checker at my local grocery store. You slide this bad-boy onto your scale-thing and pause, contemplating which PLU to enter for this vegetable.
What would you guess, if you were said checker making said judgment call?
Which PLU do you enter?
- Why would I guess? Why wouldn't I just ask what kind of onion it was? (25%, 2 Votes)
- That's a jaundiced white onion if ever I've seen one. (0%, 0 Votes)
- This is a prime example of the more-expensive imported sweet Walla Walla onion. (13%, 1 Votes)
- It's clearly a generic yellow onion. (63%, 5 Votes)
Total Voters: 8
Well, if you answered any answer other than “Why wouldn’t I just ask?” you have the same method of problem solving as every. single. checker. at my local grocery store. I kid you not, I really am writing a blog post about buying onions so just lay back and let the madness wash over you for a bit.
Seriously, though, the checkers at Safeway do this to me every time. They slide my (inexpensive) yellow onions onto the scale, rap out the PLU code for the imported (twice as expensive) sweet onions and call it good. Every single time. They just assume I’m either too dumb or too inattentive to notice that I’m paying twice as much for my onions as I should be.
Little do they know, however, that I am now the Onion Police and will never again pay extra for my onions if I can help it. Instead of spitting inanities at the inept checkers after I get home and notice the error, I politely notify them of my onions’ status before they slide them onto the scale thing. Two times out of every three, they still enter the wrong code and I have to ask them to void the charge and try again. I even give them the correct PLU code because I am helpful.
Do you know how I get rewarded for my niceness, though? I almost always get ‘tude. Snotty high schooler/community college student attitude. They roll their eyes. They blow out an exasperated breath. They sometimes even stare at me for a second before arguing with me about what kind of onions I picked out.
It takes every single fiber of my being to restrain myself from informing them that their life would be a lot easier if they just did their job correctly the first time without harassing honest hard-working citizens for being diligent about their produce. Heavens to Betsy, forgive me lest I interrupt your day by insisting that you not charge me twice as much for shoddy regular old yellow freaking onions.
Obviously I have lost touch with reality on this issue. I would be lying if I said that this tirade doesn’t ricochet across my mind every single time I have to endure the ignominious trial of being the obvious source of some checker’s annoyed moment. Seeing as how I’m a nice person, though, I never say it and instead seethe about it until such time as I get home and rant about it to Wes, who thinks it’s funny.
I can’t be the only person who’s ever been victimized by the oblivious over-zealous checkers at grocery stores. Someone’s got to stand up for our rights to pay reasonable prices for the produce we actually select, right? Someone has to be sympathetic to the fact that this is a fuji, not an organic gala apple. Someone has to notice that this is parsley, not cilantro. Someone should notice when you bring romaine, not green leaf lettuce, to the checkout. I don’t know who that person is, but I’d like to shake his or her hand.