The Price of Virtue

One of the upsides of a bad experience is that you never have to live through it again.

On the way to pick Oakley up at doggy day care and run a nearby errand yesterday, I had a craving for ice cream. I talked myself out of it, or so I had thought.

Then I remembered a new frozen yogurt place across the road from the errand. “What the heck,” I thought.

More like “the heck is this” when I was inside. It was set up as a self-serve yogurt buffet and they charged by the ounce. 47 cents, to be exact. 

Bad idea for consumers, but a great way to make a crap ton of money.

While the fro-yo in and of itself wasn’t awful, and there was a lovely selection of toppings including nuts, fruits, cookie and cheesecake bits as well as syrups, the concept left a lot to be desired. The bright colors and balloons hanging from the ceilings indicated a family-friendly atmosphere. OK. Problem: the cups only came in one size, making a mindful assembly of your sundae an absolute necessity unless you wanted to blow a week’s worth of groceries on a quart of second rate frozen yogurt. I could see massive ugliness between parents and children over that. Another problem: all the yogurt was fat-free, so who knows what was in it.

For what I spent on the not-so-peachy peach and not bad cheesecake with a sprinkle of cookie dough and a teeny brownie, I could have thrown in the towel and had two scoops of really good ice cream in a chocolate-dipped waffle cone at my local ma-and-pa stand. The ice cream there is so good the cups warn you that “we don’t give out the nutritional info–you are eating ice cream made with gobs of Wisconsin cream and butter and real cane sugar.” Or I could have had a consult with Dr. Ben and Dr. Jerry.

At least the peach was a pretty if not so natural color. 


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