Supermarket shopping not what it was

A VISIT to my local shop gave me an idea last week, if you could measure the financial state of a nation based on which products end up in those lockable plastic boxes which can track down anyone who tries to steal them.

- ANDY PHILLIPS

When I was growing up, it was video games – but only the new or most expensive titles – and perhaps the larger music box sets on CD.

Oh, and the expensive booze, like spirits, that came with a sort of hoodlike cap which had to be removed by the cashier before you left.

Then, in supermarkets, sets of fresh razor blades and printer refill cartridges became the domain of plastic imprisonment. Now it appears to be prime cuts of meat.

The friendly customer assistant, one ear tuned in to a headset, presumably so he could chat to colleagues without having to leave his post, like a grocers’ version of Secret Service agents, slid a plastic box into a space on the shelf of the refrigerated unit, on a recent trip for some basic items.

By the heft of the box, and the level of technology it contained, you might have thought it was something of greater value than a single sirloin steak, but no.