The Brussels Post, 1975-02-05, Page 2BRUSSELS
ONTAR IO • WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1975
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Brussels Post
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Need the Olympics ? Sugar and Spice
By Bill Smiley
With beef the price it is, most of us don't
see much of it on the table these days.
However, there's one type of beef that is as
cheap as ever. If you can't afford the real
thing, have a good beef about something
that annoys you. It's not as tasty as the
genuine article, but it's good for your blodd
pressure, even though there isn't much
protein in it.
I haven't had a good beef about anything
for a while, so here goes.
First of all, supermarkets. Many of them
arc becoming more impersonal, more
inefficient, r and more sleazy, from day to
day. The change has been most noticeable
in the past couple of years.
Until then, there was a crackling
efficiency in most of the big chain stores.
The manager and staff would bust their
necks to help you find what you wanted.
The girls on the cash registers nearly
always had a smile and a greeting.
Packaging boys bagged your groceries and
would carry them to your car if you wished.
As a result, the stores were pleasant places
to shop. „
What a change! The only time you see
the manager is on a television ad. Try to
find a clerk; during busy hours, to tell you
where the unsalted peanuts or the salted
crackers are, and you might as well be in
the Sahara, with an empty water canteen,
looking for a nice, fresh spring.
The girls on cash don't smile enough,
and are obviously overworked. The
packaging boys seem to be an extinct
species, and when there is one around,
he's just going for his coffee break. And he
wouldn't think of carrying out your parcels.
It must be that management is
deliberately cutting back on staff and
service. Why? To increase profits?
Yesterday, I went into a supermarket to
pick up a few groceries. About $10 worth,
or one bag. I did , my shopping in five
minutes, and spent 20 minutes waiting in
line to pay for it. Of six checkout counters,
two were open. One girlk was frantically
punching buttons and bagging groceries.
No packaging boyS in sight. The other
counter open was the Express counter (8
items or less).
And there's another thing that makes my
hair stand on end and my temples throb
with outrage. The Express counter.
The very name is a laugh. They should
be re-named the Snail counter. They are
supposed to be for the people who pick up a
can of beans, a loaf of bread and some
bologna. They are supposed to zip you
through smartly. They don't.
I stood hi line for about eight minutes,
wondering what the holdup was, as there
were only two or three ahead of me. When
I was close enough to see, I realized what
was going on. Two places ahead of me was
an old gal with a nearly full shopping cart,
about 30 bucks worth of grub. I started to
burn. Eight items is Supposed to be the
limit in that line-up.
When She finally got finished, and
muddled around having a cheque
endorsed, another woman took her place,
and started unloading her cart, After she
had placed eight items on the eouriter. I
began counting. Aloud, in a clear,
penetrating voice. Do you know how many
items that old biddie had? Thitty-six!
I remarked, loud and clear, to the
cashier:"I thought this was the Ekpress
counter, eight items Or fewer." She had
the grate to blush, half expected the old
bat to turn and pulverize me with a salami;
but she kept eyes front and her ears were
red.
I have a feeling there is room right n ow
for some old-fashioned neighborhood
groceries, where you get personal service
and your purchases are delivered, if you
want to phone in an order. The big
supermarket must be hell for little old
ladies with arthritis who have to walk
blocks with a couple of heavy bags of grub.
Speaking of which; why do the baggers at
supermarkets always put all the canned
goods in one bag, and the kleenex, toilet
paper and rice in the other, so that the
customer goes out the door with a list like
the Titanic going down?
Another sore point with me — and it's
sore where it really hurts,, in the hip pocket
— is the ripoff at big, city hotels.
It was necessary that I spend a few days
in one recently, and the prices nearly drove
me into bankruptcy, a home for paupers,
and insanity..
Single room, $31.00 a day plus $2.50 tax.
Parking, $2.50. That's thirty-six simoleons
before you lay your head on a pillow. I was
slightly stunned, to say the least, but my
fault, I hadn't checked the rates.
"Oh, well," I thought. "It's only once in
a blue moon, and I'll enjoy the luxury and
the terrific service." It is to laugh.
Luxury? It was a hotel room, like 50,000
others. Except that this one was so
draughty you had to turn the thermostat up
to 80 to keep from shivering.
Service? Oh, the service was great.
Especially room service. Tired and
frazzled, I decided I didn't want to seek out
a dining room and eat alone. Thought I'd
say in my room, have a sandwich, read the
paper, watch the news on TV.
That news was the only thing for which
they didn't extract blood.
Country, boy, without consulting the
menu, I ordered one martini, one roast
beef sandwich, one small pot of coffee
(three cups).
When I went to sign the bill, you could
have knocked me over with a lewd wink. A
third-rate martini, unchilled, $1.85. Beef
sandwich, with a dill pickle, coleslaw and a
muck of cheese, $4.35. Small thermos of
coffee, $1.35. Surcharge for any order
under $10.00, one buck. (That really
gripes.) And the waiter, with his hand out
for a fat tip. That comes to $8.25, without
the tip„
I almost turned out my pockets and
shouted: "Here! Take it all."
Once bitten, twice shy, you say. Not me.
I have to be hit over' the head several times
before anything sinks in.
Ordered breakfast. Room service.
Thought: "Well, at least you can't be
raped at breakfast." Wrong. 'You can.
Scrambled eggs, cold and watery, on a
cold plate. Toast, limp, wet and cold, on a
cold Oak. The coffee was OK. Bill, about
$5.80 , plus surtax and tip,A great way to
start the day. Rather exorbitant for three
cups of coffee, the only thing, fit to imbibe,
don't you think?
Sure, it's a luxury hotel. But who wants
to Swim in JanUary? Who needs a massage
at $7.00 a rattle? Who needs a haircut at
$3.56 or a shoeshine at half a buck? Who
needs to pay over 46 cents for a•.eup of
doffed'?
Surely there is a place in Canadian
Society for homey, comfortable hotels, like ,
those in England, *here you Might pay
$30.00 a day for two, with a huge, hot and
hearty breakfast thrown in.
Being Skinned alive IS an uncomfortable
way to go.
With Mayor Drapeau's latest great adventure on
somebody else's money, the 1976 Olympics slated
for Montreal, just a little more than a year away,
there is very evidently growing resentment
concerning the entire concept of the Olympic games.
Why in the name of anything sensible do athletes
need a million dollar pasture in which to gallop about
or sumptuous quarters in which to hang their hats for
1 few weeks? What's so terribly special about these
competitors that everything apparently has to be
silk-lined and gold-plated?
We have a sneaking suspicion that an honest poll
Df opinion, taken on the streets of Munich, Germany,
mould produce overwhelming evidence that the last
Olympics held in that city produced nothing other
than grief and a couple of king-sized lemons in the
'orm of stadia and other facilities now gathering
.considerable dust.
After all, what has Canada to gain? Will our
athletes do more than make a token appeaeance?
Mayor Drapeau and Montreal Will no doubt gain, but
the rest of us will eventually pay a lot of fat bills for
no return unless the lush facilities now being
dreamed about (plus all the fancy trimmings) are cut
down to a small nation size.
That's the nub of the whole argument. Why should
a relatively small nation such as Canada supply the
showcase for the major nations of the world to
compete? If the U.S.A., Russia and so forth want to
'lave something to brag about, let them stage the
games alternately in Washington and Moscow.
If we must have them in Montreal, let them use
existing facilities. Do things "on the cheap" or tell
everybody, including athletes, to stay at home. The
only thing remembered ab out the last Olympics is
the fact some athletes were slaughtered by gunmen.
(St Marys Journal Advocate)
invites pictures
Madam'
We invite young people in your
community to send us paintings, drawings,
poems and stories which express their
feelings about themselves, their
environment and the world we live in.
Our project, ALL ABOUT US / NOUS
AUTRES, is a non-profit group Which
collects, publishes and exhibits creative
works by Canadians from six to eighteen
years of age. Our purpose is to provide a
way for our six Million school-age people to
get to know each other better. We hope
many in your area will share their ideas,
their interests, hopes and Concerns.
Original works from all parts of Canada,
received by May 1, 1975, will be
considered for the third annual art exhibit
and a second vOltime of Writing planned for
fall publication: The national art exhibit
will open in Ottawa during Festival
Canada, and travel to Various regions
throughout the year.
Pictures and writings should be sent
directly to ALL ABOUT US/ NOUS
AUTRES. Please include name, age and
address on each item so We can let you
know about exhibitions arid publications:
Students,- teachers arid the public can write
for further infOrination.
Sincerely,
Betty Nickerson; Coordinator
Box 1'985, Station 3-
Ottawa, Ont. k1F 5R5
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