The House Always Wins: Part Three
An Absurdist Exposé on The Supermarket Conspiracy that Will Change the Way You Shop Forever! - Secrets, Scandals and the Blooming Truth Behind Supermarket Flower Displays
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My senses are immediately overwhelmed as The Supermarket's manufactured allure scrambles my brain. I try to focus on everything and nothing at the same time. I see the on-brand colourful shopping baskets calling from the corner of my wavering vision, but my shoes come to a squeaking skid on the tiles before I can reach them. What did I need again? Eggs? Bread? Both? I blot out the catchy yet innocuous pop music just audible over the hum of bustling consumers and try to focus my thoughts. I take a deep breath. What's that smell? Flowers? Why am I smelling flowers? Did I need flowers? Does anyone come to The Supermarket because they need flowers? I open my eyes and see an array of plastic-wrapped bouquets and houseplants in quirky pots spewing from a display beside the entrance.
Despite not being the least bit interested in buying either, I embrace the hive-minded mentality buzzing through me and hover over to display simply because it's there.
From a distance, the flowers rimming The Supermarket's entrance seem nice(ish), the way hospital rooms seem like nice(ish) places to recover from surgery… until you're actually there. Likewise, the up-close reality of these flowers and potted plants is brown leaves, rotting stems, pest damage and a weird combination of baron under-watering and swampy over-watering. Like clockwork, an employee absentmindedly douses the display with a misting bottle, giving the otherwise neglected plants a glossy allure and eliciting a faint whiff of decay. Even this decorative bog's initially pleasing smell is suspiciously antiseptic and synthetic up close. I realise that I was never supposed to stop and scrutinise these flowers so closely, let alone consider purchasing them as a gift to be given thoughtfully. No, these plants, which require immense resources to grow, store and ship, serve as little more than promotional material that can be resold as cheap, impromptu acts of uninspired romance and token offerings of forgiveness. Why else would The Supermarket expose them to its chaotic entrance rather than upon specially built shelves within? Honestly, who carries a bunch of sunflowers around while juggling the groceries they actually came to buy? Better yet, who separates themselves from The Supermarket's obsessive embrace just to turn around because they missed the gardenias on the way in?
I would argue that The Supermarket is simply trying to repurpose its promotional material while conveniently stealing business from nearby florists. They do this by disguising their generally shoddy products beneath a glamorous disguise, a sort of cheerleader effect, before slapping them with prices ranging from laughable to ludicrous.
'Well, obviously!' barks a particularly rude petunia. 'Don't you know that we flowers are technically little more than loss-leaders?'
I jump back from the display and gawk at the limp-petaled petunia. I glance around to see if anyone else has noticed the strange things I am noticing. Naturally, no one has. I am alone with this talking flower.
'Hey, hey everybody!' the delighted petunia calls to the surrounding flowers. 'This guy doesn't know about loss-leaders!'
The flowers start laughing but soon collapse into a chorus of coughs like over-excited smokers.
'Loss-leaders, my friend,' hacks a helpful sunflower, 'are flashy products strategically sold beneath market value to stimulate your attention. They draw you in and subconsciously lead you to more profitable items.'
'Exactly,' wheezes a blackened Venus fly trap.
'Yeah, idiot!' snaps a peace lily with half a leaf and a single brown flower. 'And we flowers have been puppeting humanity since the beginning. We alerted your evolutionary ancestors to favourable climates and ushered in bountiful harvests after fierce winters. We showed them where all the nuts and berries were while serving as big subconscious eat here signs. Now look at us! Practically doing the exact same thing... but for a price.'
'Should have let them starve!' mutters a grouchy cactus.
'Quite right,' the peace lily continues. 'We were so good at guiding your ancestors to survival that they evolved to release little spurts of dopamine upon seeing us in nature. Oh yes, and you're not the only ones. Plenty of unsuspecting animals followed us into the fertile fields, leaving themselves wide open to your ancestor's spears. Yep, big eat here signs, alright,' the peace lily laughs. 'But how the tables have turned. Now you're the prey sniffing the flowers while The Supermarket stalks you from the shadows.'
The flowers bloom into hysterics.
'Not to mention,' cackles a vivacious rose, 'that you humans generally perceive the world through shapes and colours and form negative and positive associations on first impressions alone. You see us here, outside this otherwise monstrous apex predator, and lower your primal defences just enough to raise your weekly spend.' The rose ruffles its petals seductively. 'This ringing any bells, honey?'
I grab the rose by the stem, prick my fingers on its thorns, and demand to know why The Supermarket is mixing these evolutionary cocktails just to sell microwavable meals.
'Don't blame us!' the rose chokes. 'Cultivating flowers isn't exactly easy, you know! Contrary to popular belief, we don't just spring up out of the ground. My water footprint alone is between 7 and 13 litres! Scale that up, big boy. In 2023, roughly 2.8 billion roses were sold. You do the maths. Spoilers, sweet pea, it's more than enough to drain the Murray Darling Basin. Besides, we don't want to be here.'
'Indeed,' says an orchid with a thick Colombian accent. 'Do you know how old I am? How far I travelled just to be splashed down in this filthy swamp? The tag there says I'm freshly cut. Sure! If fresh suddenly means between seven days and three weeks ago!'
'Forget that,' announces an Ecuadorian orchid, 'Do you know how many human rights violations I witnessed on the farms?' The orchid counts a string of sexual assaults, exploitative wages, inhuman working hours, dangerous working conditions and biohazards on its petals.
Suspicious, I scrutinise the apparently contradictory tags guaranteeing freshness and ethics sticking from the plants' soil and then demand the flowers explain how this can be the case when the stickers and tags clearly say otherwise.
'Oh, those?' snarls the orchid. 'Well, while labelling regulations would never allow you to make such flimsy claims on meat or dairy, you can say practically anything on our tags.'
'But that's nothing!' coughs a seedy-looking Kenyan chrysanthemum. 'Who cares about a few little white lies? Especially when up to 63% of flowers from just one importer may be riddled with biosecurity risks capable of devastating the entire industry, which The Supermarket has already shrunk by an estimated 4000 florists. You've probably forgotten that social media campaign where they practically bragged about this. Remember, back in 2018, when they posted: It's not your local florist. It's your local Supermarket! Ask me; there's nothing local about The Supermarket besides the building.'
'Quite right,' the seasonal Malaysian flowers gasp in unison, emitting swarms of bugs from their mouths. 'Why, the main reason there are no regulating bodies or labelling standards overseeing plants is because this thing actively lobbies against the mere idea of even talking about one.' They tip their leaves towards The Supermarket behind them.
I back away from the flowers as my mouth pops open and closed. Why is The Supermarket willing to cripple an entire national industry while turning a blind eye to biosecurity risks, environmental concerns and human rights violations just to keep their loss-leaders in bloom? Especially when most of them end up in the garbage by day's end anyway. Well, because it is The Supermarket, obviously. And this is essentially its business model. I think back to the catalogue and the two realities pressed between its pages. There's The Supermarket's utopian vision for the future and the dystopian nightmare playing out across the very first display I've seen. Of course, and as evidenced in the catalogue, moral dilemmas are synonymous with globalism. Wealthy nations suck the nutrients from developing economies like the mealy bugs swarming The Supermarket's token nod to floristry. And once again, it's far away places that…
'Yeah, hold up there, bub,' growls a jaded pothos as it puffs on a cigar. 'Let me guess. You're thinking this all goes down in some poor, faraway place. That The Supermarket would never be so brazen as to dabble in these practices on Australian shores?'
I nod.
'Haven't learned a thing, have ya, kid?'
I have learned so little that I don't know whether to nod or shake my head.
'Lemme tell you a little story about The Lynch Group...' the pothos says and then exhales cigar smoke in my face. The haze clouds my vision and transports me into a corporate fairytale.
Through the nicotine mist, I see the Lynch Group, one of those holding company things that uses terms like vertical integration on their website despite consistently losing value on the ASX. They are down 23% over twelve months at the time of writing. Essentially, they sell plants and lose money. Naturally, as The Supermarket now accounts for 19% of the domestic flower market, the Lynch Group is extremely eager to count itself as a major supplier on practically every media release it publishes.
However, here's a headline that left a skidmark on the Lynch Group's ticker-tape partnership with The Supermarket:
"'Sweatshop' conditions, bullying and exploitation at major flower supplier, ex-workers say."
Long story short, according to Lynch Group employees, working conditions within its Australian facilities mirrored those found in developing nations. Lynch Group's employees detail instances of extreme workplace bullying, dangerous working conditions, insanely long hours, racism and extortion of the complain-and-lose-your-job variety. When the story broke, an unnamed spokesperson for the Lynch Group released an unsigned, one-page response of little substance. It basically said they had investigated themselves and found themselves innocent and were now following leads from external sources. It closed with the following:
"We have a strong track record as an employer of which we are very proud and strive to create a safe, fair and positive culture."
What happened in the interim is a little unclear, but within two months, the following headline accompanied a picture of a Lynch Group facility behind a chain link fence:
"[The Supermarket] investigating worker claims of 'slave' conditions at major flower supplier."
Clearly, those external sources lead Lynch Group's partners down a different path than the internal investigators. Unsurprising, really, considering that Sam Roberts, the National Union of Workers' general branch secretary, noted a longstanding awareness of health and safety issues surrounding the Lynch Group, who were typically afraid to raise such issues.
The Lynch Group met this second phase of the controversy with a standard ten-point duck-and-weave corporate response. Ultimately, they simply denied everything by surmising that 'we have sound policies and procedures in place…' or 'we have a number of measures in place…' or 'we have a number of support mechanisms…' None of these numerous procedures that are apparently in place were elaborated on in any meaningful way. Unfortunately, there's no publicly available follow-up as to how all this played out, probably because COVID trashed the floriculture industry (and everything else) in the following months. It seems the Lynch Group dodged one bullet by getting struck with another.
With this in mind, let's return to that initial response, where Lynch Group pointed to its strong track record as a sunshine and hugs place to work. This is the sort of none-apology corporations insist upon printing as if they still live in a pre-internet era where they can write their own histories. It's a nice fantasy. But a few search engine rabbit holes quickly funnel anyone with even a passing interest towards a parliamentary speech given in 2001 by MP Julia Irwin. She brings the House's attention to the case of Ms Ho, a former Lynch Group employee who was allegedly bullied and unfairly dismissed after lodging a sexual harassment complaint and daring to join a union. But, of course, it gets worse. I'll let the honourable Julia Irwin explain why:
"The most horrifying allegation stated to me was that five pregnant women were told that the company would not be responsible if they suffered miscarriages. What sort of threat is that? If this allegation is founded, it will demonstrate that this company is run by nothing other than beasts. These men are absolute brutes and deserve public vilification for their actions. This sweatshop environment has been aided and abetted by a system that no longer respects the rights of workers."
It seems Lynch Group got one thing right. They do, indeed, have quite the track record as an employer.
It's also worth noting that most of Lynch's online reviews are from former employees warning others away by exposing the company's apparently terrible workplace practices. These literally never stop, ranging in age from several years to as recently as two months at the time of writing.
Putting aside that The Supermarket entered into business with Lynch Group despite knowing the above, how did it respond to allegations of sweatshop-like conditions against one of its major suppliers? Well, more or less the same way Lynch Group did, with statements of concern and ongoing investigations. Maybe these investigations prompted Lynch Group to change its ways and improve those mysterious employee services mentioned in their response. More likely, though, The Supermarket scalded this mischievous little third party with a few emails and token public statements before calling it a day.
So, yes, the abuse and inequalities that plague international floriculture are not merely rife within our borders but barely discouraged by The Supermarket. Remember, this entity now has its fingers in both on and offshore floriculture, despite cultivating a holistic appearance.
Now, this is hardly an excuse, but floriculture is Lynch Group's primary business, so, in their eyes, these alleged abuses ultimately serve their end goals. However, by affiliation, The Supermarket condones the charge of modern slavery simply to snare consumers with big colourful displays. Could they not use plastic plants and flowers to achieve the same psychological result? Of course, but presumedly, the resale value just doesn't quite match.
And no, before you ask, while Lynch Group and The Supermarket are technically Australian businesses, so could claim to be entirely supporting local economies, the reality is tucked away in this eye-catching line from Lynch Group's 2023 director's report:
"The Group sources products through a combination of its inhouse farms in Australia and China as well as long-term relationships with leading, third-party growers in Australia and other key global floral growing regions such as Kenya, Ecuador, and Colombia and Vietnam."
Isn't it interesting that this appears under the ethical risks section? Especially so when we take the following mitigation strategy into consideration:
"The Group is committed to acting fairly, reasonably, equitably, and cooperatively with suppliers and requires suppliers to maintain appropriate certifications and comply with applicable laws and regulations in their countries of operation."
If you read carefully, you'll see that Lynch is not insisting its international growers adhere to Australia's comparatively strict labour laws or even those barely enforceable international ones. No, presumably, this refers to laws overseen by local enforcers, essentially the same loophole through which sneaker manufacturers cram their sweatshops.
Indeed, Smallstreammedia reported on the case of one Kenyan flower picker who was expected to grade 3700 stems a day for $141 a month and was allowed only a single sick day despite suffering from anaemia. I wonder, considering the lack of care they have allegedly already shown to Aussie workers, would Lynch Group and The Supermarket hesitate to enslave the working population if our standards were suddenly lowered and these abysmal conditions became a possibility on our shores?
And another thing…
No! No more! Unable to bear these corporate fairytales, I wave the pothos' mystical smoke from my face and heave it from my lungs. I scramble around inside my skull as The Supermarket's interior comes back into focus. The flowers and plants are still there, snickering at me behind their leaves.
'Get it now, champ?' the pothos snarls. It stubs its cigar on its turtle-shaped pot, singing a hole in the barcode.
I do. I totally get it. Despite The Supermarkets' stern-faced insistence on upholding national labour standards, Lynch Group remains one of its key suppliers. Clearly, The Supermarket doesn't care about its loss-leaders' origins, only their effectiveness. And now that I've seen the mirror hiding in the pothos' smoke, I realise that this sordid supply chain will never break so long as consumers continue buzzing into The Supermarket's psychological web.
But while The Supermarket has stripped modern life of alternatives and made it exceedingly tricky to sidestep its countless traps, its approach to floriculture has a built-in self-destruct button.
Unlike our groceries, which The Supermarket has taken hostage, spontaneous flowers and one-more-try succulents aren't exactly necessities. But they are a tempting indulgence to deny. I am speaking from experience.
Luckily, despite The Supermarkets' aggressive incursion into their territory, florists have fared much better than small independent grocers. And can often still be found within walking distance from The Supermarket. Sure, you may still inadvertently be buying from the Lynch Group, but, at the very least, you'll be severing The Supermarket's head from floriculture's Cerberus. Maybe we could all start making a more thoughtful choice for ourselves, our loved ones and the world at large.
The flowers' taunts follow me as I turn on my heel and race back towards the baskets. I scoop one up while trying to shake their jeers from my head. I glance back at the flower display in time to see a man walk by, stop, then backtrack and examine them again. Are they talking to him, too?
Nope. He picks up a bouquet of roses, slopping murky water onto the tiles and then wanders inside, smiling slightly.
If only he knew…