Value is a relative thing to me. I wouldn’t sell my grandmother, that’s not what I mean. Imagine you have paid the same amount for a shared service as some French person. The amount of service you consume relative to the French person tells you who gets the best value. Value for money is relative.
Imagine you’re staying at a hotel where the shared service consists of three buffet style meals a day (plus snacks and free booze). Imagine you want better value than the French man next to you. That’s a recipe for days filled with ten courses of no-spoons-barred scoffing.
I can eat a fair amount when pushed. I used to think I could’ve been a contender. Until I worked with a guy called Scott who is a contender – we used to watch him inhale burritos in Oakland. He’s good. He’s won awards. But I can still put it away when I have.
But imagine the dirty tactics of the value loving Frenchman in the buffet. He’ll have a plate of meat. Slices and slices of meat on a plate, and he’ll set about them in a leisurely fashion. Me, I’m all for the sprint – get it all down your neck before your stomach realises that it’s just had four plates of spring rolls, chips, cannelloni, carrots, fish, chicken wings, yoghurt and cake. And some lettuce for the ladies. But the Frenchman’s value proposition is based on stamina, and now he comes back with a plate of fish. He’s amazing in his grindingly slow way. Especially as the budget conscious hotel kitchen fluffs the food out with MSG to make you feel full. And some other unidentified ingredient which my scientific studies have revealed will make you feel bloated no matter what you eat. He keeps on chomping away, going for the pasta course next, convinced he can win.
Drastic action is required. No longer can he be out eaten by a mammal with only one stomach, and your stand-in mega-intestined bovine is off sick. So it’s food wasting time. You’re imagination has to outwit his guts. Start to fashion hybrid animals from the buffet. Take a few chicken wings and add them to the body of a fish. Weld the animal together with ice cream. Give it horns made from gherkins, wheels made from pineapple rings. Become a mealtime divine creator, and fashion your answer to the duck billed platypus from high value buffet foodstuffs. Then leave your creations on your table, and walk out as the Frenchie is still trying to squeeze in dessert. He is beaten. More food has been consumed by the anti-massive neo-deity. Value is yours.