As far as supermarkets go, COOP, Switzerland’s Safeway, offers a relatively exciting variety of products. What isn’t so exciting are the astronomical prices they're offered at. Four Swiss-Francs for a tiny thing of hummus, at least five Swiss-Francs for any kind of sandwich meat besides that cheap, sticky, bland salami (which is still 3.50 FRANC). Our first meal in Zurich, one of the crown jewels of European wealth, is taken on some steps, covered overhead, near the front of the COOP. It's raining out on the street, pouring I should say, and there's a very brisk bite in the air. Still, we're just happy to have something to eat after sleeping in the station and catching the first train from Munich. And we're stoked that we've finally met up with Mike, who's just generally stoked to be in Europe. We decidedly split the cost of groceries, which comes out to about 8.00 Swiss-Franc. And for our troubles? With everything laid out, it looks to us to be a decently sized, albeit calorie-starved feast.
We have two loaves of bread, a bag of paprika-flavored chips, hummus, pesto, salami, some dark-colored, thinly sliced mystery meat, TUCs of course, pineapple slices, a bottle of orange juice, and a bottle of pear juice. Now for all those of you looking at this list of items and back up at what we paid for it and subsequently having a very confused look upon your face thinking, “how did they get all that food for just 8.00 Swiss franc? Was there some super sale at the COOP that day?” No, idiot, we stole it. Well, most of it. The long bread, the orange juice, and the puffy bag of chips aren’t exactly ideal articles for sliding into my waistband or Max’s already stuffed backpack.
Let’s call it morality. Or at least something like it. Whatever it is, I like to think that throughout these petty thefts, there's at least a shadow of the ideal present. We keep our thievery to major chain supermarkets. And there's never really been that guilty feeling for me whenever stealing from corporate chain stores. Especially when my stomach's about as empty as my wallet.
Perhaps this absence of guilt stems from a two-year stint I had working for a shitty corporate retail store. Perhaps it comes from all those nights watching Business News Nightly back at home and hearing about how corporate super stores were muscling out small family owned businesses. Who knows, but for whatever reason, walking out of the COOP with packaged meats and a container of hummus and a bottle of pear juice digging hard into the small of my back under my waistband, there's no hint of guilt on my conscience or on face or in my stride.
As Max so succinctly puts it, “It’s a way to stick it to the man. Europe should all just be on Euro… Fuckin’ western union… And any other fuckin’ money exchange can suck my balls too.”
