It was a Friday afternoon, I was working from home and it was nearing 12 pm.
My stomach began its usual pre-lunch grumble, and so my mind turned to lunch.
Unfortunately, past-Eleanor decided she should only meal prep until Thursday in the name of “food hygiene”, ugh, so I was left to forage for myself, a.k.a. head to the Coles directly beneath my apartment, and buy some food.
I decided to make a quick single-serve Poke bowl, which is my go-to healthy lunch in a pinch.
It contains microwave rice, cooked chicken from the deli, salad leaves, Nori sheets, cucumber, and carrots.
As I went about picking up all the items, an idea struck me in the middle of the veg section.
I only needed a little bit of carrot; I didn’t need the whole thing because if you’ve seen a Poke bowl, it just contains a small amount of each ingredient, i.e., it’s not a carrot-dominant meal.
So I did a quick scan over my shoulder, and when no one was watching—like a criminal—I snapped one in half, put the other half back, and kept on walking.
The adrenaline I felt! The ingenuity! I had hacked the system.
But as I kept on shopping, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Why did this feel so wrong? I had only taken what I needed. I wasn’t stealing. It doesn’t say anywhere that you need to buy the whole carrot—it’s per kilo, not per carrot.
Luckily, at the self-checkout, any guilt I had quickly subsided when I saw that my half-carrot came to just eight cents. Eight cents! The smugness won.
“So wasteful”
But then I shared my new-found hack (which by the way, was a once-off) on TikTok, commenters were so passionately opposed to my idea I began to think I was going to get fully cancelled, me and my 478-follower-strong account.
Comments ranged from “Eat the whole damn carrot” to “Who is going to eat half a carrot you left?” and “That’s so wasteful, they’re just going to chuck it out.”
I let the comments swirl in my mind for a bit, unsure of how I even felt about my behaviour either.
But then I concluded that my hack was, in fact, harmless.
“Eat the whole thing”
To the “eat the whole thing” folks – look, as much as I love carrots, I didn’t need the whole thing, okay? So why should I feel pressured to buy and then eat more than I want to, just to satisfy your completely made-up supermarket rules?
And for the “no one is going to want to eat the other half now you’ve touched it” crowd – are you actually kidding? You don’t think hundreds of people have rifled through that carrot box trying to find one they want before you?
And before that, been touched by plenty of other hands during the process from farm to supermarket?
ALSO, if you’re not washing your carrots before buying them, you have bigger issues than me buying half a carrot. And if you’re really worried, peel it!
And everyone who asked, “who would actually buy the other half?”, I think you’d be surprised. Maybe you don’t think there are other half-carrot needers out there, but that’s probably just because this isn’t a widespread practice, so you don’t see it often.
Maybe if there were more half-carrots available, there would be more people buying them! Supply and demand, baby! Supply and demand.
It’s the same with celery and spring onion… most recipes just call for a bit, but you’re forced to buy the whole bunch because that’s how Coles wants to sell them.
…which brings me to my final rebuttal. *clears throat*
People who told me this was “wasteful” behavior because “the supermarket will just chuck the half out” – I think the wasteful thing would be to buy more food than you need and have to chuck it out at home when it inevitably goes rotten.
At least my tactic gives others the opportunity to buy the leftover, if they so desire.
And if not, you’ll be relieved to know that Coles donates unsold, edible food to food rescue organizations like Foodbank and animal or wildlife services.
So maybe a rabbit or a horse is chomping on my half-carrot as we speak.
And I bet it didn’t feel like a whole one, either.
