Copyright 1998. All rights reserved.

Jessica’s confidence that she had done a good deed inviting her grandmother to come down from Montana for a couple of days was ebbing fast. "Granma, I just can’t believe it! You can’t even walk through a simple supermarket without ranting about the government." Jessica reached into the freezer and brought out a package. "I for one want a T-bone steak tonight."

Granma rapped her cane against the tiled floor several times, then swept the steaks out of her granddaughter’s cart, and threw them back into the meat case. She stooped over it, tossing packages this way and that with a speed and forcefulness that belied her rumpled appearance. Her search proceeded relentlessly, as she dug down deeper into the stacks of meat, until a crowd started to gather.

Jessica whispered, "Granma, you’re making a scene!"

A whoop of triumph echoed from the depths of the freezer. A wrinkled hand triumphantly held up a package of T-bone steak very much like the one Granma had originally thrown back in disgust. Granma stood up saying forcefully, "Now this is a label you can trust."

Jessica sighed as Granma tossed the steaks into the cart. Only the most miniscule difference separated Jessica’s original steaks from her grandmother’s: Jessica’s steaks had been certified by the FDA, whereas Granma’s had been certified by Underwriters’ Laboratory.

Jessica pushed her cart through the gathering of people, trying to escape the scene of the crime, but Granma wasn’t quite done yet. Granma looked each of the half-dozen people in the eye and said, "Never trust the FDA! They’ll kill ya." With that, Granma strode with dignified haste down the aisle to catch up with her granddaughter, who was thoughtfully eyeing the different brands of dishwashing detergent, trying to become invisible.

As usual, Granma had an opinion. "Get the detergent from P&E, girl. Consumer Reports says it really does cut the grease better, and leaves fewer stains."

"Really?" Jessica asked with some amusement.

"Really." Granma whipped her palmtop out of her purse and performed a quick Web search. She held the computer out so Jessica could view the screen. "See?"

Jessica looked at the Consumer Reports analysis, just three months old. Sure enough, it said that the P&E brand of detergent was worth the extra cost. "Well, you sure saved me that time," Jessica said as she picked up a box of the expensive detergent.

"No, I saved you when I got you the good T-bones," Granma sniffed. "You know the FDA killed your great-grandfather."

Jessica checked off the dishwasher from her shopping list, and saw she was done. She pointed her cart towards the exit. "I know, Granma, I know." Granma’s father had died of sudden heart failure during the time when the Food and Drug Administration was still refusing to allow beta-blockers on the market. Tens of thousands of people had died. "But Granma, that was back in the 1970s, for God’s sake. The FDA isn’t even a part of the government any more. They’re a respectable company, just like Consumer Reports or Underwriter’s."

"Ha! I suppose you’d say that about the Post Office, too." Granma was still unconvinced.

As they reached the exit, all the packages in the cart talked to the store computer, which then beeped Jessica’s palmtop. Hardly slowing down, she glanced at the tallied up cost of her purchases and authorized payment.

Granma was peering over her shoulder. "Federal dollars?!" she wailed. "You’re keeping your money in Federal dollars?"

Jessica groaned. Now she would get a lecture about government-backed financial instruments, and the merits of using Masterbucks instead. "I keep some of my money in Swiss francs, too," she said helpfully, just for the perverse joy of watching her Granma splutter in rage.

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