Tag Archives: woolies

What I hate about Australia (besides giant bugs)

There are so many things to love about Australia:

The sun.

Gorgeous beaches.

Ridiculously cute animals like koalas and wallabies.

Cool buildings like the Opera House.

Indigenous art.

Bush dances.

BBQ culture.

Passionate sports fanatics.

Words and phrases like “mate” and “g’day” and “no worries”.

The amazing (Asian) food that you can find everywhere.

Teh fact that most people don’t take themselves too seriously and are quick to have a laugh.

Morning tea.

Afternoon tea.

I love so much about this nation. So much. (I’ve been here 12 years, duh.)

But there is one thing I hate. (And yes, I know “hate” it a very, very strong word. One I don’t use often.)

Yes, I hate the cockroaches, the ants, and the mosquitoes that I come across on a daily basis… but that’s not what I’m talking about.

What I’m talking about is this:

THE AUSTRALIAN SHOPPING TROLLY.

(Otherwise known as a shopping cart.)

I have never, ever, EVER driven one of these things that steers correctly. Tehy are not made to balance and flow like the American ones.

They simply will not go in a straight line when in less than perfect circumstances.

Going around a bend (with a full cart) is like trying to pull a semi-truck around a hair-pin turn on the side of a mountain pass. Ugh.

Trying to push a cart with 50+ pounds of groceries in it and steering it in teh right direction when there is any remote slope to the ground is virtually impossible… Comparable to crocodile wrestling. (Just try to imagine that.)

I’m convinced that the CEOs of Woolworths and Coles have never gone grocery shopping a day in their lives.

If they had we would be seeing some radical reforms in the trolly department.

A nation that’s built the Sydney harbor bridge, hosted the Olympics, and engineered countless other modern marvels…. yet they can’t figure out how to make a decent shopping cart.

(Embarrassing.)

So this, my friends, is the thing I hate about Australia.

Shopping trollies.

STOP.

 

Q for you: Have you ever tried to wrangle an Australian shopping cart?

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited

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Looks really do matter

I was in a new grocery store today and saw these:

Doesn’t that make you want to buy and eat your veggies?

Yes mam. Bring on the brussel sprouts!

As much as we all like to say, “it’s what’s on the inside that counts”, that’s not entirely true.

(And you know this applies to people too… we really are initially attracted to “beautiful” ones, are we not? But that’s a different post.)

If you’re choosing between an apple with a few nicks in the skin or an apple with a perfectly smooth skin, which one do you choose?

Right. I thought so.

You choose the one that looks good. (That’s why millions of pounds of perfectly good food gets thrown out every day in the West. Yup, also another post.)

Marketing experts know this. They not only know it, they exploit it–I mean–they do their job well.

Ever since moving here I’ve had a “beef” with my local Woolworths (equivalent to Safeway). Their slogan is that they’re the “Fresh Food People” but their produce sucks. (Sorry if that’s not nice language to you.)

But it’s true.

I’ve bought perfectly good looking spinach leaves only to find them completely brown and gross two days later. Obviously they were harvested and packaged loooong before I ever had the chance to buy them.

Hey Fresh Food People, I’d like to be able to buy my veggies once a week, thanks. No daily trips to the grocery store for me! (Another good reason to get our produce from the Sunday farmers market.)

But seeing Woollies display their produce like it is now? That makes me think: fresh, straight from the farm, earthy, yum, pretty, healthy, BUY ME!!

They’re doing a good job reeling me in, I must admit.

I wonder if their produce selection will match their fresh, new look?

STOP.

Q for you: How are you swayed by looks? Come on… admit it…

 

Love,
A

 

Click Clink Five | Five minutes a day, unedited
Adriel also writes on motherhood and parenting at The Mommyhood Memos