Don’t mess with my stuff

Dear Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Victoria,

Our humble village is in an uproar since a secret shopper column first appeared in The Gopher Woods Gossip.

The anonymous writer has been critiquing local businesses and doesn’t mince words. Problem is, most of those businesses have been around for years and feel like comfortable old gloves to their loyal patrons.

For instance, the shopper castigated Mom & Pop’s Country Kitchen as “a greasy spoon whose salad days were mired in the lard of the ’50s. The pot roast was desert dry, the collards were like spikes and I wouldn’t feed the corn on the cob to my horse.

“I give Mom & Pop’s a rating of one fork out of four, just out of the goodness of my heartburn.”

“That’s appalling,” said Gertie Gritch, who can be seen daily at Mom & Pop’s eating lunch in booth 14 opposite Flora Mae Pince. “OK, sometimes the coffee’s lukewarm and the rolls are a bit doughy, but Mom & Pop’s is where I get my news. I’ve been coming here since high school. It’s my hangout.”

Lenny Yankowitz, our carpetbagger from Brooklyn, just shrugged at the critique: “Hey, I love that the tea isn’t syrupy sweet, but I would like to see pastrami sandwiches and New York pizza.”

“Squirt” Sprinkle couldn’t believe the secret shopper was talking about Mom & Pop’s. “I think the guy must have confused it with the Gas ‘n Go down on the highway,” he said. “Their fried chicken looks and tastes like cardboard that’s been cooked from 7 in the morning to 11 at night. And their corn-on-the-cob soaks in oil for about that long.”

The secret shopper column isn’t limited to restaurants. A recent piece berated the Gimme-A-Buck dollar store:

“I couldn’t get down the aisle without dodging leftover stacks of Valentine candy and racks of non-best-selling books. If I had a dollar for every forlorn retail item I had to step over, I could buy the place. And that’s certainly not in the cards. I rate it at one Monopoly dollar because that’s what the out-of-date snacks are worth.”

“But I love the Buck store,” Nadine Gunch said. “I do all my Christmas shopping there. It’s crowded — sure — but I don’t have to walk forever like at the Super Mega Mart. And besides, stuff is just a dollar.”

The local automotive service center also took a hit from the secret shopper:

“I took my car to Goober’s Garage for an oil change because of the low price. When I got my car back, it was decorated with greasy fingerprints along the driver-side door.

“Goober is taller than the average man. I know because when I was getting into the car I almost fell into the seat, which had been adjusted all the way back.

“I give Goober a rating of two wrenches, an average score, since he vacuumed the interior. Otherwise, it would have been one screwdriver, which signifies incompetence.”

Lenny, who has his Harley serviced by Goober, had other ideas. “Goober has always done good work on my bike, and he returns it in shiny condition. Never has he adjusted my seat back — hah!”

Gopher Woods Grocery didn’t escape the wrath of the secret shopper. “When did they pass the law that requires supermarkets to hide the things we buy most often? I could have sworn the fiber bars were on Aisle 8 the week before and the green beans were on Aisle 6.

“I’m sure they like to keep things mixed up to make us stay longer, looking for that loaf of bread. Meanwhile, the hope is, while searching for mustard, we’ll notice the peanut butter, the chips and the 20-ounce sodas and be tempted to put them in our carts.

“I finally found the spaghetti sauce in the antacid section — natch — and located the spaghetti noodles next to the mops. The bananas averaged just right — half were green and the other half were brown.

“I give the grocers two shopping carts — one to rearrange the aisles and the other to haul out all the rotten produce.”

Gopher Woods Mayor Smitty Jones was ambivalent about the secret shopper column. “I know people get upset by the criticism, but maybe it’s something that will help upgrade our commercial enterprises.”

But Gertie had her own criticism: “I think it stinks.”

Love,

Your nephew

Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.