Why is it so hard to walk into an unfamiliar supermarket and find what you need?

You may have shopped at your grocery duopoly brand of choice for years, yet wander into any outpost for the first time and you’ll be craning your neck to read the signs at the end of each aisle, trying to divine by vibe alone whether the cold produce is closest to the checkouts, at the far end, or at the back of the store. “Excuse me, where would one find the cheese?” It just feels weirdly pathetic to seek help in finding your snacks.

I’ve long maintained that, all other things being equal, there should be a federally mandated design for supermarkets. I’m not talking about the suburban mum-and-dad corner shops; I’m talking the large anchor tenants in any shopping centre or strip mall.

They’re mostly a similar size, selling the same range of goods. So why, when you’re on holiday or anywhere new, do you need a full lap of reconnaissance just to find the basics?

Is the milk at the back? Usually. But sometimes it’s on the side. The eggs – are they next to the cold fresh produce? Near the milk? Or on a shelf among the dry goods?

Don’t even get me started on the ad hoc placement of the bakery (often several aisles from the packaged loaves of bread and wraps).

Some might point to the helpful indexes in each aisle, noting the location of certain staple items. I would say, dear reader, I am not Magellan – and the simple act of procuring paracetamol should not require poring over navigational charts as if on a voyage to distant lands.

With every other part of the supermarket experience cookie-cutter identical – from the lighting to the in-store radio and the chocolates placed at children’s eye level – can’t we agree on cohesion when it comes to one useful part of the experience?