It's only fair

Several years ago I took the Fred Meyer stores to task over what I considered misleading advertising, some of it aimed specifically at us old folks. One of those posts is the most-read of any on the blog so far.

That said, today a Fred Meyer employee went out of his way to help me in a manner totally unexpected so that has to be worth mentioning too.

Yesterday I bought some shrimp at another store to build my seafood Caesar salad for some friends coming to visit. When I opened the package of shrimp, first of all it had an exceptionally strong seafood smell, not something I am used to from shrimp. Then as I was removing the shells I found the meat to be, well, the best word I can think of is squishy. I hesitated using it. My experience with shrimp has been largely fresh out of the ocean in Prince William Sound and I've never encountered soft, squishy shrimp meat.

I hesitated using it, but went ahead anyway. Then regret began in that mélange of thought that confounds the brain just before you fall asleep. It wouldn't go away. Soon I found myself up and sniffing the salad thinking it was probably all right, but then probably when it comes to seafood doesn't mean it is. For one thing I wasn't even sure it was cooked, although it was pink. Before I went to sleep I was up again and examined the package and nowhere on it did it say cooked, and that compounded the suspicion.

When I awakened in the morning that was the first thought. As I thought through my move from haze to consciousness, I even considered just throwing out the salad and starting over this morning. Mind you this one is not just throwing a bunch of lettuce in the bowl. Finally I decided I would just throw out the shrimp and go get some more. Before I even started my morning medicine ritual I was in the kitchen pitching soggy shrimp into the garbage.

This all happened well before the store opened so I putteerd around for a couple of hours until I could go. I went to Fred Meyer where I found shrimp I wanted, not prepackaged but packed in ice in the display case. As the clerk was packaging my shrimp, I asked her if she knew much about shrimp and told her about the soggy, limp shrimp I had just thrown away.

She said no but she knew someone who did and called a man from the cutting area behind the swinging doors. I explained my experience to him and his verdict was it was at least suspicions. I thanked him and then he did something I would not have expected. He said we are not going to charge you for these. I thanked him but said it was not his fault and I would rather pay. He just smiled and walked away.

But when I checked out and the checker rang up my shrimp it showed up with no charge. I decided not to argue it any further and went home with a pound of cooked shrimp I was much more confident about.

And, with good thoughts about Fred Meyer, I was determined to let the little episode be known. It's only fair.

Incidentally, two of the three visitors had never tried this salad before. The three of them just about cleaned out the bowl and one of them took the recipe home with another saying she wanted a copy.