It was bound to happen sooner or later.
I visited the supermarket in Skobieville on Saturday.
That act in itself was quite remarkable as it is the first time I have stepped across its threshold in around ten years. I hate shopping and in particular I hate supermarkets, which is why I get all my groceries delivered. Naturally they had changed everything around so I couldn’t find anything, and would have walked out only that the item I wanted wasn’t on the delivery list.
Anyhows, having worked myself up into a nice head of steam, and having at last found what I was looking for, the thought crossed my mind to get a couple of extra packs of baccy. I searched for, and eventually found where they had secreted the tobacco area.
I asked the girl behind the counter if they sold Condor. She pulled open a very large drawer and there, sure enough, were dozens of packs of pipe and ciggy baccy. Normally at this point I would quickly scan the drawer and point to the distinctive green packs, as I like to be helpful. But this time I was stumped. All the packs looked exactly the same as they have all gone over to the latest in medical porn and lurid messaging. Short of climbing over the counter and looking for the Condor myself, I was at the mercy of the girl. She maintained they didn’t have any, and I couldn’t argue.
So I asked if she was sure. She said she was. There was nothing I could do except take her word for it and walk away.
This new packaging is supposed to “help” me quit smoking. It is supposed to frighten me with its daft messages and irrelevant images. It supposed to make me want to quit.
Did it succeed?
Of course it didn’t.
All it did was frustrate me in my quest, and raise my blood pressure [very healthy?]. The shop probably lost a bit of extra income and I was put to the inconvenience of shopping elsewhere. It certainly didn’t improve relations between myself and the girl behind the counter.
What it did do was make me all the more determined not to quit.
So stick that in your pipe Tobacco Control, and smoke it.