Berlin Supermarkets: A User’s Guide
by Guest Blogger
Four years after claiming independence and moving to Berlin, the supermarket still feels like the most iconic place of my adulthood and one of the most fascinating Berlin places to write about. While other bloggers document colourful night scenes and vivid cultural environments, I find myself in a complicated love triangle with Lidl and Rewe, and am now ready to disclose the dynamics of these relationships. My user guide to Berlin supermarkets will lead you through a correct, satisfying and 100% German grocery shopping experience.
CHAPTER 1: “I’M A PFAND MACHINE READY TO RELOAD”
First: Enter your supermarket of choice.
Second: Head towards the Pfand machine.
Any respectable trip to a German supermarket includes a mandatory stop at the Pfand machine, which is usually located before the actual shopping area. Not stopping there would be like going to IKEA without eating meatballs.
Glance at the 75-year-old lady who just beat you to the line by one fraction of a second. Using her last remaining life force, she’s carrying seven plastic bags full of bottles and is now feeding them into the machine.
Very. Slowly.
Consider leaving the line but then change your mind: it would be a drag to go through the whole shopping process with a bag dripping a mix of Club Mate and beer (probably a real cocktail recipe somewhere in Berlin). Also, you could do with freeing up an extra three square metres in your room before your flatmate calls the crew of Hoarding: Buried Alive.
Years pass. The lady lets you know she’s done by smiling at you and saying something incomprehensible, which is probably German for “I’m a rich bitch now. So long, suckers!” Watch her pink-haired body floating away with what was probably hundreds of Euros and a smile of victory on her face.
It’s your turn now.
You only have five bottles, so this shouldn’t take long. Unfortunately for you, after the first bottle has been sucked in, the machine notifies you that the containers placed on the other side of the wall are full. “You need to press the red button”, says the Pfand-bot.
The red button is the last trace of a Germany that wants you to feel in control. Clearly, its only purpose is to give you a false sense of safety, just like the numbers on Lost. Don’t even mind the button and do the only rational thing: cry out for help.
Don’t lose hope: someone will come.
CHAPTER 2: “WE FOUND CAKE IN A HOPELESS PLACE”
You’re now inside the shopping area and you’re looking for the items you need, maybe even following a list.
There is only one rule concerning where to find them: forget logic.
In a perfect world, those small Bahlsen cakes you like to dip in your morning coffee would be placed next to cookies, because that would make sense.
Not here. Not in Germany. You’ll only find them if God wants you to – and only after wandering for hours among shelves overloaded with sausages and far too many kinds of Quark, taking care not to make eye contact with your fellow grocery shoppers. Remember to treat them like ghosts from a parallel dimension, and even if you bump into them try to convince yourself it was an ESP experience.
Once the desired item has been retrieved, shove it into your tote bag and try to avoid feeling like the Winona Ryder of Marzahn. It’s fine: the evergreen excuse “I meant to pay for it” is – unsurprisingly – taken literally in this country; no special police unit will barge in and attack you with trained dogs while you whisper through tears the words, “Ich bin nicht shuldig”.
Just remember to pay for everything you grabbed when the moment comes. That’s it.
CHAPTER 3: “QUIT PLAYING GAMES WITH MY DIET”
You’re at the Kasse now. It’s almost over, but you can’t let your guard down.
Among all the spots inside the supermarket, the Kasse is where your morals are ambushed and your diet is tested. Just as Orpheus had to refrain from turning back on his way out of the underworld, you should resist the temptation to buy small bottles of Jägermeister, because everyone knows you’re gonna keep them in your pockets and sneak a sip whenever your boss isn’t looking.
Also, chocolate bars made of 20% caramel and 80% peanut butter are not a good idea unless you’re OK with never being able to find your teeth again.
Also, 3 Euro reading glasses can’t possibly be good for your sight.
Also, Hello Kitty partnering with Kinder Surprise is indeed exciting news, but the answer is no.
Also, there be cigarettes.
If you were strong enough (and I want you to be) you are now out of the temptation zone, placing your groceries onto the conveyor belt. Here comes a crucial part, which you should carefully execute if you wish to live your Berlin supermarket experience to its fullest.
Start eyeing the Kassentoblerone (yes! that’s its real name!) from afar, when it’s still out of reach. Focus on it impatiently as if it’s been the object of your desire for years and start tapping with your fingers in excitement. Picture in your mind all the terrible things that would happen if your groceries actually brushed against those of the person standing in front of you.
Grocery confusion, food STDs, maybe some kind of explosion.
When you’re close enough, grab that divider and place it on the belt in a triumphant manner, as if it was the coronation of a life lived in struggle.
Can you feel the joy?
The clerk has been scanning each and every item you purchased and now presents you with the bill. While you look for money in your wallet, he will take advantage of your distraction to slide in an unsettling question that will make you freeze in fear. “Haben Sie noch ein Wunsch?” – “Möchten sie Geld abheben?” – “Brauchen Sie ‘ne Tüte?”.
And my favourite: “Sammeln Sie Herzen?”
Which literally translates into: “Do you collect hearts?”
That has to be the most horrifying and inappropriate question I’ve since the time I ordered sushi for myself and the delivery guy asked if I needed three sets of chopsticks.
But relax: Kaiser’s is not investigating your emotional life nor conducting a survey to determine the percentage of serial killers among their customer base. They simply have a loyalty system where the points are called “hearts”.
Just answer “Nein, danke” to whatever they ask and hand over the money.
Now it gets tricky. Once payment is completed, the space at the end of the Kasse where half of your groceries are still lying doesn’t belong to you anymore. In fact, the clerk is already throwing new items down there at supersonic speed. Suddenly overwhelmed with pressure, you now need to pick up your stuff and carry it to the nearby table-for-slow-people, quickly and dramatically as if you were rescuing a baby from a fire.
When you’re ready to go, head to the Ausgang while taking a skeptical look at the receipt and making sure that the very cheap bananas you bought (genetically engineered in Steglitz) haven’t been priced as if they were the BIO ones from Colombia.
If everything looks fine toss the receipt in the trash can just outside the door, where millions of others are nested. In the background the ghostly, naïve voices of future generations are asking their elementary school teachers what a tree is.
Ignore them blissfully.
Follow Federico on @amorequietplace and read more on his blog, A More Quiet Place.
Big Stu’s Big Guide to Berlin’s Supermarkets by the legendary Big Stu.
Allen, this is something I feel really passionate about. I think all Australians should take a stand against this non-packing at the checkout outrage and simply point blank refuse to even come to Germany until the issue is settled. Even if it takes decades I think it’s for the best. I stand with you, although not literally because I will probably stay here.
[…] Enrichment reading: http://www.uberlin.co.uk/berlin-supermarkets-a-users-guide/ […]
[…] think my brain is drained from writing the unexpectedly successful Berlin Supermarkets Guide for Uberlin, a silly post about Italian expressions and from photoshopping an idiotic modified Berlin U-Bahn […]
When arriving at the Kasse, you realise that you have to put yourself in “the Queue”. Yes, the likelihood that there is one and one only cashier open is as high as finding a German that likes beer. Don’t mind bothering looking out for another queue: if there is one, it will be full anyhow with at least 3 people in front of you.
And then you see it… a light… an angel… a once in a lifetime chance! A new supermarket worker readying himself to open another Kasse. This is your exit route!
Brace yourself though, as you need to impersonate that fellow you met in primary school which didn’t care about anyone else except himself. Forget all those moral values and respect for others that your mum taught you in childhood. You’re about to get into a battle! If you thought that whomever would be first in the queue would get first place in the new cashier, forget about it! This is a race! A race for life!
You start seeing everything in slow motion, like a bad Hollywood movie which as it unfolds you realise that everyone is bound to loose. People are jumping over shelves and shouldering each other as an in american football game. Everyone is trying to get first place. Oh no! First place is taken by a guy which was not at a queue and just rushed with his supermarket buggy through the warehouse aisle. He looks back at everyone, a mockery expression, a sneer smile and a spark in his left eye. Forget about the initial order of the queue, this is everyone for themselves and a battle for survival, as if getting out of the place is everyone’s most inner desire.
Needless to say that, unfortunately, you got last place!
Missing from the infographic:
Lidl:
when the line reaches the back of the store, dividing it in half (east and west perhaps?) and creating an impassible barrier of shoppers with oversized carts.
[…] A guide to supermarkets in Germany – hilarious!! […]
You know that the troposphere starts from ground/sea level? So even 1 person in “line” will reach the troposphere ????
SCIENCE! Thanks for the schoolin’ ????
I made that “mistake” on purpose ’cause I like to challenge my readers’ intelligence and get them to learn new things. You’re welcome.
If there is one thing about German supermarkets, that is maybe something special, it’s the “discounter-ism” that has started with LIDL and ALDI and has been exportet to numerous countries.
This terrible peace about the supermarkets here is as dispensible as it is empty.
I’m sorry you have such severe troubles that you have to write about it in order to be ablet to cope with all this. What a world.
Thanks for the comment, but I think you’re expecting too much of a piece of comic writing. This is supposed to offer a little vignette on going to the supermarket in Berlin, not a critique of those stores, let alone the impact of their policies overseas. I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that if you’re looking for critical thinking about globalisation, you’ve come to the wrong place.
Everything James said and also: I don’t think peace is terrible. I’m a pacifist.
You missed one very very important thing: “bon?” It took me months to work out they were offering me a Kassenbon.
I also realised that supermarket cashiers use as few words as possible in order to convey meaning: Tüte? Bon? Imagine if the cashier in Tesco just barked bag? ‘ceet? at you. Or if they said simply hmm-mm instead of asking you to put your card into the chip and pin device ????
Großartig! This is awesome and just hilarious!
This was a great read, for lo, guffaws were heard as far away as Vancouver, Canada. Aaaand now, as great credit to this article, Friedrich Liechtenstein’s “Supergeil” is ringing in me skull …
I’m just going to add a few points from my experience in Weimar when I was studying at the Bauhaus. I’m an Australian from Newcastle.
1. German checkout operators need to do our bagging.
2. Aisles simply make no freaking sense.
3. German checkout operators need to do our bagging.
4. As a student I found the Edeka in Weimar choice to put toys at the end of the shopping to be bloody annoying. Especially in the morning after a solid night of drin….I mean a big night of studying.
5. German checkout operators need to do our bagging.
6. Start rounding up the price please. 1 and 2 cent pieces. REALLY?
7. German checkout operators need to do our bagging.
8. They need to sell Vegemite.
9. German checkout operators need to do our bagging.
10. You end up spending more money on shopping bags then your actual shopping for some reason.
P.S. I did find the smoke machines awesome until I learned how to speak the language though. ????