"Can I help you find anything?" asked Sven, briefly interrupting our discussion of Peter Sellers.
"No. Every time I buy cheese here it's bad. I always buy imports and they've gone (she flailed her hands wildly)...off."
"Uh-huh" Sven replied, his brain shutting down.
"The cheese here is always bad."
"Yep."
"Can you tell me why that is?"
Neither of us answered. Sven turned on his heel, leaving a stack of brie and a couple of wheels uncut, and disappeared through the door leading into the kitchen. I paused momentarily, not making eye contact but not wanting her to corner Barbara, my boss, who was helping another customer. I flipped through the folder that has our price list, pretending to look hard at it, while silently praying that the woman would go away before Barbara was free from the other customer. The woman continued to look through the cheeses for several minutes before eventually wandering off to produce, presumably to look through all the of the fruit and veg that she hates and finds completely substandard.