The concept of picking your own fruit was a bit peculiar to me as much as cooking my own steak in a restaurant and building my own house. These were activities best left to people who either a) liked doing this and hopefully b) were not too bad at it. I was neither. Today we called in at the place where you pick your own strawberries. You pick them, put them in a plastic container, walk to the checkout and pay for them. Actually no, go back one step. You also buy a cup of strawberry ice cream and add that to the bill. I'm not completely crazy here. And it was pretty damn fine ice cream too. So by picking our own fruit in corporate supermarket land you've eliminated not only the middle man (whomever he was) but a truckload of supply chain leaders, category managers, marketing and sales experts, research and development teams and cold storage staff, all because you went from mound to mouth. And whilst I appreciate the work and effort put in every day by these no doubt dedicated experts, the humble strawberry appears no better off. My latest experience with eating a supermarket strawberry left me wondering if I bit into a raw potato that just looked like a strawberry. It was that tasteless. Picking your own fruit allows you to choose some over the others. You can be your own quality controller. So today I performed the role of all of the above by selecting only what I viewed as the ripest and most attractive, I had transport and cold storage organised and now I'm working on my promotional strategy that will drive consumer interest towards my purchased product. I'll make a strawberry topped sponge cake. And the only rewards offered for this one will be a smile on my husband's face. The best kind.
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