A tale of Food Giant

My darling husband and I met in the aisles of the little known food emporium: Food Giant Supermarket, Sunderland.

Once a grocery boy and shelf stacker, husband was soon promoted to the heady heights of Dairy Queen, a role which he shared with me.

Our early romance was spent frolicking in the fridges, cutting boxes a little too enthusiastically with our yellow knives, dancing to our favourite Food Giant hits, and creatively ridding the store of waste cardboard.

The general joy was only slightly sullied by trying to avoid the ‘management’ team. Indeed, we fashioned much fun out of them: Mr Hygiene, Mr Blue Jeans, “I’ve got the caaaaaaaaar”, and “take a look at my French stick” still provide hours of mirth and merriment.

Ahem, probably more than they should.

Anyway I digress. It came to pass that my good husband had to leave the revered Food Giant and move on to pastures new. In order to do this he secured a reference from the personnel manager. In an amazing* new revelation the original documentation has come to light (it’s almost like Time Team!).

And here it is.

Really, I wonder how the Food Giant management got to that level with such atrocious grammar and spelling. Ah, I know, it must have been via Mr Hygiene’s mantra “there’s no future in not having a pen”. Indeed, because having a typewriter just makes it so much more obvious when you make a mistake.

Let’s have a little look (as the image may be a bit too small and faint to analyse) at what is actually wrong in this document: a mere three sentences long.

Get the name right

I mean, come on, you work there, you’re using headed note paper, is it really so difficult to use the right name in the address on the left?

Get the tense right

It’s a right old mixture of present perfect and past tense.

Present perfect is used when the time period is not finished – in this case: “Mr S has been employed” it quite plainly is. Hell, they even give the dates to help you work this out.

Get the spelling right

I would have no hesitation of reccommending him“. *Sighs*, and to think these people were on massive salaries compared to our minimum wage.

In the days before formatting

Ah, the lowly typewriter. Can we blame the personnel manager for such terrible layout? Well yes, I’d say so. I don’t remember typewriters forcing you to present words in all capital letters or removing the ability to insert paragraph spacing. This, my friend, is just bad presentation.

And here’s how the story ends…

The husband left Food Giant and entered an exciting life away from retail and away from his future wife. Sadness and years of loneliness were to be the order of their lives until their paths crossed once more.

And suddenly all was amazin’ again.

The end.

*Amazin’ Savin’s, Amazin’ Prices – the Food Giant strapline.


One thought on “A tale of Food Giant

  1. Honey, there was no minimum wage back when we were the cool kids on the block. We were paid a slave's wage. I was probably in the region of £2 but I may be wrong. It could well have been that we were paid in lumps of curdled milk mould, tubs of molten 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' and a half bottle of El Flem Castille. There was also the paymen of joy in the form of a brain-thumping blast of 'Hey Jude' and the odd Milk Race.


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