just try it

speeding past the massive queue forming outside the baskin robbins at bloor and christie this past wednesday, i couldn't help but contemplate the lengths to which my fellow torontonians will go in order to save a buck or two. it reminded me of my regular weekend sojourns to my local metro location, my two daughters happily in tow slummin' it inside my shopping cart. ultimately though, our family road trips to supermarket shangri-la ain't about the groceries or the deals or the low ridin' in the pushcart. uh-uh. in the end, they're about one thing and one thing only: the free food ladies. you know, those sweet old ladies (they're all sweet old ladies in my neighbourhood so no comments, please) responsible for handing out bite-sized portions of the latest gimmicks in culinary artistry. promotional giveaways essentially, designed to reel you in with just a hint of the latest chain store offerings, and usually accompanied by a smile and a 50 cent coupon. oh, i understand the appeal of it all. i get it alright. after all, who doesn't love a bargain? but for most, the song and dance needed to score the freebie is often just as thrilling as scoring the freebie itself.

first there's the requirement to feign surprise when you initially stumble upon the free food lady, even though you probably spotted the kiosk six aisles away... and only after planning your visit around the free food lady's concert tour schedule six weeks in advance. "what? you're here again? are you here every weekend? what? more samples? really? no, i just had breakfast. what? you insist? well, i suppose a little bite wouldn't hurt. ok, just a small piece then. are you always in this corner of the supermarket? no, not that one. not that one. no, that one seems a little undercooked. so you're here every saturday, then? no, that one's a little messy. and sundays, too? yes, that one. no, not that one. that one. yes, that one. perfect. perfect. i can't believe i ran into you again. are you following me?"

then there's the requirement to sit (stand) through the free food lady's sales pitch describing all the benefits known to mankind that can be had simply by biting into that designer quiche or cocktail kielbasa or garlic bread pizza square: smile. smile. only 300 calories per serving, huh? smile. smile. almost finished then? smile. smile. comes in five delicious flavours, huh? smile. smile. just a little longer. smile. smile. and... and it's over. it's over. now gimme the food. gimme the food, lady. no napkin. i said, no napkin. just gimme the food. the food, lady! gimme the food, lady! yes. yes. in my hand. put the food in my hand. yes. food. food. free food. in my hand. alright, the food is in my hand. the food is mine now. i am holding the food now.

and finally, there's the requirement to make believe as though you are actually interested in the free food lady's sampled wares, but this time for sale... and at regular price. "only $12.99 a box then? wow, what a great deal. what a great price. just over there, huh? in that aisle? right over there then? aisle seven? no, not aisle seven. aisle six then? i think i just might. i think i may do that. i may just do that right now. only $12.99, you said? can't beat that price. right over there then? aisle six then? ok, i'm heading there now. here i go then. aisle six it is. here i go. only $12.99 a box, huh?"

luckily for me, and unlike most shoppers, seven and two are rather shameless about their true intentions vis-a-vis the ladies that dole out lunch. "spare me the elevator pitch, bubbie, and hand over the goodies." ah, the frankness of youth.

"a girlfriend of mine didn't go to hers. once in a while, she gets a terrible feeling, like something is missing. she checks her purse and her keys, she counts her kids, she goes crazy. and then she realises that nothing is missing. she decided it was side effects from skipping the prom." - pretty in pink (1986)

the birth of punk, in italian no less, sticking it to the man: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQ4LJebvtB4&feature=related