EDEKA is like facebook. Only crass.
Recently I read a critical article about the so-called "glass customer". The author described in horror that the internet had offered him clothes the size of his kids, that Google offered him pages about his hobby and suggested other hobbies that suited him horribly well. I was wondering if people from my village would even understand the article. Helga, who always puts a cake on my doorstep when I'm working a lot of overtime. Slim, who puts the latte macchiato with lactose-free milk into my hand every morning before I order it, or Sarah, who recently brought me multi-vitamin juice because her mother's girlfriend had told her I looked pale. At EDEKA. Naturally!
EDEKA? see and be seen
I think I was about 14 when I realized that having a drive to EDEKA was about as important to my parents as it was to walking the red carpet across Hollywood. My mother was standing next to me staring at me completely dumbfounded. Like I said, I was 14, the nineties had cast a spell on me too, and I found a crop top on skimpy hip flares, combined with wicked Buffalo shoes for the absolutely right outfit for a quick purchase. Who knew if my dream prince would not cross my path between the muesli course and the meat counter? My mother saw my chances of glittering in this elevator slightly worse than me. Completely horrified, she made it clear that she would not break with me that way. I'm afraid my fashionable self-esteem was buried just that day, right at the moment my mother said, "I'm not taking you to EDEKA!" exclaimed. The word EDEKA emphasized it so that there was no doubt about it: everywhere else I should have been allowed to show up like that. But not at EDEKA. Because how they presented themselves there was about equal to the importance of a profile photo on facebook, Xing and Instagram. My mother meant it well. She just wanted to save me from a big disgrace. And maybe a bit too.
You do not need more to live
After a few years in the big city, it has pulled me back to the countryside. We have a few meadows, Kuhdungluft, a drugstore, a pharmacy, a doctor, a small lake and? Yes, it is true ? an EDEKA. In our village you are proud of it, because you do not need more to live here. Time seems to have stopped here sometimes, the children are more childlike and the crime is limited to gum-shoplifting and (if it's just escalated) chewing gum remover on public roads. But in one case, we are still a bit ahead of the urbanites in our rural areas: In terms of data protection, we are even worse than the entire Silicon Valley. With us, the customer is not only predictable. No, in our village you know each other better than yourself. Because? you suspect it? we have an EDEKA. Recently I found out that I have an affair! I did not even know myself! And that I'm definitely promoted soon (the boss has told the Ingo, the Ingo the Lisa and the cheese counter woman), I was also unaware.
Metropolitans will never understand that
When I invite my friends from the city to me, they always find it first great with us. The garden, the peace, the idyll. Everything great. Eventually, however, the enthusiasm tilts mostly. So completely without a café, that would be nothing. A single restaurant in the neighboring village? Pretty scary idea. But that with the barbecue in the garden, yes, there they are, that's a fine thing. Recently, we spontaneously wanted to sizzle a few sausages. It was a hot day and my girlfriend from the city unceremoniously tied a cloth around her chest that just reached below her buttocks. "Do we want to talk to EDEKA for a second?" I held my breath. Then it burst out of me: "So I do not take you to EDEKA!". I really did not mean it. I just wanted to save her from a big disgrace. And maybe me too. Some things just never change in the countryside ...
