Once upon a time – just this afternoon – I was shopping in Checkers. The Checkers that's not exactly just up my street, but in Westville. Shopping next to me in the fruit and veggie section was a mother and her young son. As I was trying to decide whether the oranges (packed in orange-tinted plastic, for what reason you may ask?) were worth putting in the trolley, I overheard the mother rather ruefully say to her son: "This is not a happy lettuce!", as she put the poor and noticeably wilted lettuce into the trolley.

My mind did a double-take. It said: Hold on a minute here. The lettuce is not good – but you are putting it in your trolley. You know it is not good quality and you are going to take it anyway. In fact you're not just going to take it – you're going to pay money for it, right … yet you KNOW it is not a nice lettuce. Why?

Then another strain of confused thought piped in: Hold on another minute, it said. What are you teaching that young son of yours? That it is okay to waste money on a lettuce that is not good – and that it is okay to eat a lettuce that is not good. Surely it is obvious that a wilted lettuce is not going to give off the same goodness, when consumed, as a healthy-looking lettuce. If the lettuce is so obviously not happy, surely the body would not be happy to receive it? Wouldn't it be healthier to do without lettuce, rather than eat a wilted lettuce? Wouldn't it be even better to call the manager and tell them why you're not going to buy this lettuce, rather than let then get away with stocking inferior quality product (and still selling it)?

While this was going on in my head, I ambled over to have a look at the lettuces. Most were wilted, but not all. I found a respectable looking lettuce and put it in my trolley, wondering why, why on earth, someone would select an inferior quality lettuce, when a little checking through the sorry lettuces could have had them going home with a happy lettuce.

If only she had stopped to think of the consequences of her choices, of what her bowing to the convenience of the moment was teaching her son, and teaching merchandisers. There's no need to package lettuce in plastic with green hues – people buy them anyway!

For some reason, for a large percentage of the time, a large percentage of the population just no longer seems to care. We have become a convenience society to the point that we knowingly (but without acknowledgement) damage our health in the name of saving a few minutes in time, in hassle – and losing out on quality of life, food and health.

Hope you'll all stop to think next time … but wait, there's more!

Once upon the same afternoon, at the same Checkers Centre in Westville, a few health conscious citizens arrived at the Virgin Active gym for a workout. The stench of paint assaulted them as they walked through the door. The obnoxious odour reverberated around the air-conditioned gym as contractors painted the squash court walls.

The amazing thing was that almost every one of these societally conditioned citizens marched right on in, changed and started training. Not one other person seemed to do a double-take and question whether it was sane (let alone healthy) to train in this sort of environment – breathing in toxins ever more deeply with each rasping breath on the treadmill.

Just standing in the environment for a few minutes I could feel the effects of the paint, yet people were training as if nothing was wrong and all the staff were expected to work there as though it was a normal day on the job. The only concession made was that painting was due to stop at 15h30 so that by the time the real heavies hit the gym (the executives who would be more inclined to complain, perhaps?) the source of the pervasive paint smell would not be in evidence, so the grounds for complaint would be diminished. I'm sure the smell and toxins would only be slightly diminished.

The gym was slightly emptier than usual, so I'm sure that a few other people had voted silently with their feet, or like me, left a complaint in the box, but what was in the heads of those people who were training in a toxic environment – supposedly so that they would be in better shape and health?

If everyone refused to train, the management would have to have come up with an acceptable solution. However, since some people were content to get out on the floor and train, more people will be poisoned tomorrow in the same environment until the painting job is complete.

I sure hope this makes you stop and think – and perhaps, when the time feels right, to do more than acknowledge the wrongness, but to ACT on it. We have to start with respect for self (and health) before we can expect other people to respect our needs. If we're not going to insist on healthy food or a healthy training environment without communicating our needs, how do we expect that an acceptable standard will materialise?
 
Food for thought.