Tesco Card as Metaphor

On our first day in Warsaw, I went to the Tesco. Yes, there's a Tesco -- the British supermarket -- just 100 meters from our apartment.

When we got to the checkout, the cashier asked me (in Polish, of course) whether I had a Tesco card. In the Polish I use (i.e. faking it, guessing wildly based on my Russian and what I hear around me, plus what little I remember from 20+ years ago), I then said: "No, I don't, but I wish I did."

She handed me a form. I filled it out. I became the proud owner of a Tesco card. Success, of a kind.

Now, when these cards were first introduced at various grocery stores in the US, I resisted them. I know that they collect information about me as a shopper, sometimes generate coupons and offers to my email, and generally make me a tad uncomfortable that some Big Brother is watching when I buy a Twix bar and checking on my brand of tampons.

On the other hand, often "sale" prices only apply to those with a card, and I can generate quite a lot of savings when I use the card at a major grocery. Having a card (or at least remembering a friend's number when I check out) means that the prices written in big numbers apply to me; I'm a member of a club of people who pay less, not one of those who pay through the nose for their lemons and their beets.

In Poland, the Tesco card remains a mystery to me.

Every time I go to the store, whether for parsnips and carrots or świeże jaja (eggs by the 10 rather than the dozen, something familiar to me that freaked my daughter out!), I pull out my Tesco card and the cashier dutifully scans it.

I then examine my receipt later -- did I get a discount on some coveted product? on toilet paper or milk or Polish apples?

I admit that I cannot tell what effect the Tesco card has on my total spending. I literally have no idea. Or rather, I know that I am racking up points each time I shop, and they are accumulating (at an alarming rate, but that is another topic). Surely they will some day bring me some benefit, but what benefit, I do not know.

And now we come to the metaphor: we move through our life in Warsaw, accumulating some benefit, but what that benefit is, and when it will accrue to the extent that we will notice and profit from it, is as yet unclear. In the meantime we stumble along, filled with pride when we understand something or communicate our needs or connect with some lovely Pole who has taken that extra step to be welcoming, to be kind, to be human.

In fact we've accomplished quite a lot:

• we have a bank account, and can make bank transfers and pay bills, even on the internet; 
• we have cell phones, so that we can call or text each other; 
• we have Warsaw City Cards and activated them for 90 days of local transit;
• we have filled out many forms at our departments, which in theory will lead to us being paid, getting health insurance, etc.

This in addition to some sightseeing and the regular everyday living, including making snowmen in the yard, figuring out our washing machine and dishwasher, sending letters and postcards to friends at the post office.

I've run into one or two shopkeepers who announce "Nie rozumiem" and dismiss me. But they are in the minority. Mostly we meet people who are ready to offer us Tesco cards -- whether or not we fill out the forms correctly.