The delusion of choice

Newly arrived residents and visitors to the Falklands could be forgiven for thinking that we enjoy a level of competition and choice in our retail market unusual for such a small population.

The much-publicised opening of the new West Store extension marked another battle in the seemingly endless war for our shopping baskets that FIC and the Chandlery continue to wage against each other. Waitrose, Sainsbury's... Never before have shelves offered so many UK household staples to so few. And yet, why does it feel like there is still an element of "like it or lump it" about food shopping in Stanley? And have things changed that much, really?

The opening of the new Chandlery this year marked something of an historic event, a custom built supermarket to compete with the FIC's West Store (and presumably with a fraction of FIC's financial resources). Sainsbury's product lines further promised to follow from where the old Beauchene had started with Tesco and, more importantly, now provide a cheaper alternative to everyday goods than the sometimes prohibitive Waitrose products of West Store.

Unfortunately, its stock seems to be irrational at the best of times. I've often found myself looking for a basic product only find that it either isn't in stock or if it is, the product is an anchovie-stuffed, chilli-marinated, organic, wheat-free, turtle-friendly version at £5 a jar as opposed to the usual 50p. I'm not an expert in the field, but one would expect that a basic requirement for anyone running a supermarket in the Falklands is to have a core list of basic goods that are always in stock.

Whoever does the ordering at the Chandlery doesn't seem to understand the annoyance of doing a weekly shop in one supermarket and then having to go to another to pick up, say, a tin of sweetcorn (yes, there are probably palletloads of sweetcorn in the Chandlery at the moment, but it's a random example I've picked to illustrate a point). Maybe they do understand the annoyance, maybe they are banking on us shoppers happily going to another shop for a tin of sweetcorn, maybe it's our fault for continuing with our shopping rather than walking out.

Meanwhile, for all its razzmatazz, the West Store extension seems to have brought little new with it other than more shelves and a car park that Salvador Dali would have been proud of. More crucially, prices don't seem to have changed, and while Waitrose products may be preferable to the barely-edible Nisa and Iceland fodder of old, one can't help but think that having a high-end product line simply makes it easier to disguise mark-ups. Maybe that's being unfairly cynical, but those of us who can still taste the creosote in the back of our throats simply find it difficult to trust the West Store and the colonial monopoly it enjoyed for decades.

For me, food shopping at the West Store is riddled with guilt and self-loathing. In fact, not entirely unlike that which one would expect after paying a prostitute to lose their virginity; it fulfills a basic need, but you wouldn't want other people to know that's how you were going about it.

Inevitably, until there is such a thing as a consumer watchdog in the Falklands (chance would be a fine thing...) if we want any of this to change it is up to the consumer. The most obvious action is to let them know - anonymously if need be - as it may well be that the management aren't aware of their shortcomings. Ultimately however, the most powerful means of protest for consumers is the chequebook, and if we are unhappy we should make an effort to go elsewhere to find the best price or quality, regardless of the annoyance and the extra pennies on petrol.