Tesco is introducing free home delivery for customers age 65 or older when you shop online. Assauge that famous Irish guilt by sending a care package to loved ones back home in Ireland.
Guilt. While officially defined as ‘a feeling of having committed a wrong or failed in an obligation’, you (with your years of experience on the matter) could sum it up simply, and perhaps more eloquently, as ‘the plight of the Irish emigrant’. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Embroider that on a cushion the next time you’re in the middle of a ‘quick’ 90-minutes-and-counting call home. Not only will it eventually serve as a nice footrest while you’re bet into your couch with nowhere to go, but it’ll keep your hands busy while your ears bleed out listening to the same story about Uncle Pat’s most recent surgery and what Eileen down the road’s been up to since she retired.
This guilt thing. It’s part of being Irish. Being handed your guilt card, your license to guilt is a rite of passage that occurs at birth for every Irish person, whether they’re the first generation, or third. It’s non-negotiable. The doctor pops along, pulls you out, smacks your bum, hands you your card (or implants a guilt chip if you’re post Y2K) and off you go, fully licensed and ready to overthink all social interactions and moral obligations from now until the end of time. The great thing about obtaining a guilt license though is that it never expires and you can rack up an infinite number of points without ever leaving the house. In fact, the more points you have, the better you are at it. Try floating that one past the National Driver License Service and see how far it gets you.
While we can’t claim total ownership over the emotion, the way in which we internalize and experience guilt is certainly unique to the Irish condition. Sure, we didn’t invent it, but we’re the best at it. Now, put us in America, a mere 5,000 plus miles away from the auld sod and we’ve all but thrown the rule book out with the holy water in a bid to out-torture our ex-pat selves – for every 6 months living outside Ireland, inject another 5,000 ccs of liquid guilt into the remorse reserve and keep it on your person, at all times. Match your new lease of guilt with an over-active imagination courtesy of said distance from home, and you’ve created a right wee situation for yourself.
And guilt, in America, like all things in America, is bigger, bolder and louder. Forgetting to call your mam while living in Ireland measures a moderate 5.2 on the How Bad Should I Feel About This? (HBSIFAT?) scale. But forgetting to call your mam when living away from home, well now the scale no longer exists, it self-destructed the minute you reached for the TV remote instead of the phone, leaving you with a niggling feeling at the back of your mind, like when you put off a dental appointment for the third time or ignore the mounting tasks racking up on your to-do list by telling yourself you’ll “get to them tomorrow”.
Mix that five-star over-active imagination in with the above and suddenly, you’ve got a medley of concerning thoughts to tuck yourself in with at night. Like that distant rattle you thought you heard, but might not have heard, when you phoned two weeks ago. It was the boiler. Has to have been. It’s on its last legs. When’s the last time they got it serviced? Jesus, they must be freezing sitting at home. Scarves on them day and night, coats flung over their knees in a desperate attempt to trap heat, shivering and forced to listen to the incessant drone of the clanking, vibrating boiler, ready to blast off any second, up through the ceiling, taking the whole roof with it. That rattle. Come to think of it, it was deafening. The number for Byrnes’ Boilers, it’s saved in the phone. Worth ringing them to send them around. Jesus them Byrnes’ Boilers boys should be checking in on it every two months at least, especially at this time of year. They’ve been loyal customers for 30 years for goodness sake!
And so the cycle goes. You ring. You check in. You worry. Winter through to spring, through to summer, through to autumn. And into winter again. But look, who are you to argue with genetic predisposition? You’re Irish, and it comes with the territory. So, why not do something constructive with it? Next time you find yourself walking around in circles with the worry, concocting all sorts of images in your mind, get yourself online – order food, fire logs, tea, batteries, light bulbs, hot water bottles, a few biscuits… Get the pen and paper out, write that grocery list, throw a few extra in for good measure and feel comforted in the knowledge that when ordering with Tesco, it’ll be there in a jiffy, with best of all, free delivery to over-65s. Well. That’s that sorted then. How d’ya like them apples!
At Tesco, we’re introducing free home delivery for all our customers aged 65 or older when you shop online. Now you can have your loved one’s favorite foodie treats delivered to their homes and what’s even better is that if those extra special loved ones are over 65 their food packages will be delivered for free. We’ll take your order, do the shopping and deliver it to their door. Wouldn’t mammy love the surprise!
Simply call Tesco's Customer Care team to set up the service for someone you love back home
Calling from the USA: 011 353 51 339 890
Calling from outside the USA: +353 51 339 890