In the checkout line with three boxes of Belvita soft bakes, the situation took a strange turn. The cashier, snatching one of the boxes from the conveyer belt, shot me a look of disbelief.
"This can't be right…" he muttered, shaking his head, "That price for a box of Belvita soft bakes? One could easily expect to pay 5, 6, 70 pounds for a box of these, any day of the week…”
Mentally, I disagreed. The price matched the shelf ticker, so why the shock? Plus, I'd never paid more than £3.10 for a box, not even at service station. 'Where does this guy buy his breakfast cereal bars', I mused, 'A garden center?!'.
By now the checkout man had begun holding his ear. "Charlie… has there been a mistake?", he enquired, all the while grimacing at me. While I didn't hear a response, he clearly did as face exploded with character.
He leaned in, shook the box aggressively, and whispered: "We weren't supposed to bring these Belvita to shelf at this price, okay?"
"Ok" I reply, bemused — mostly at the stench of poorly-cooked meat mixed with top-notes of blackcurrant emanating from him.
"There's been a cockup he smirked, tongue stabbing the air like a dehydrated lizard. "Oh, there'll be unhappy faces in management tonight, a-ha, kiss my anorak" he shouts, all whilst continuing to wave the box of Belvita.
Turning to the other customers, he continued.
"We'll have to honour the price on the shelf, okay? We can't—this guy's in, okay? Belvita is not only of the breakfast foods, not only of the choc or the chips. In my nigh on 30 years of working in supermarkets, okay, these are genuinely among the best I've brought to till".
As beige royalty free piano music bleeds in through the tannoy, I make the decision to leave.
The man has since perched on the edge of the conveyer belt, his face studious, his hands clasped. For all intents a vicar about to deliver a sermon of profound importance.
But I am not religious, not even about the price of Belvita.
As I approach the door phrases like "opportunity to acquire", "quite simply", "our bet", and "household insurance" buffet my back.
In the crisp, safe air outside I dare to look back. The remaining customers are congealed in a ball of violence, boxes of Belvita flying left, right, and center. The checkout man, composed, catches my eye and mouths: "I've won awards for this".
—FIN—
