What those numbers on fruit stickers really mean

When it comes to groceries, we usually pay attention to the brand and the expiry date, but when it comes to fruits and vegetables most of us pick the ripe ones that look appealing to the eye. The truth is that fruits and vegetables are also labeled, but not many pay attention to those numbers mostly because they don’t even know what they stand for.

Numbers on fruit stickers like 9

Numbers on fruits serve more than the single purpose of identify how much the item should ring up. In fact, they provide valuable information about the product. If you notice fruit stickers starting with the numbers 9, out of five digits, it indicates that the fruit has been grown organically.

Alandsmann | Pixabay

Number 8

If the five-digit number the fruit is labeled with starts with the number 8, it means the product has been genetically modified. GMO foods are controversial as many believe they cause and trigger allergies. This technology is often used in agriculture to enhance the resistance of crops to pests and diseases, improve tolerance to herbicides, or increase nutritional content.

Currently, researchers still investigate the long-term effects, if any, on humans. Some of the most notable GMO fruits are papayas, apples, plums, strawberries, and grapes, among the rest.

ElasticComputeFarm | Pixabay

4-digit code

A 4-digit code starting with either number 3 or 4 signifies the food isn’t organically grown. Instead, it has likely been “conventionally grown.” The meaning of conventionally grown food refers to the way they are fertilized. While organic produce uses organic matter like compost and is mechanically or biologically treated for weeds, conventional methods use synthetic fertilizers and pesticides.

Shutterstock

The debate about the environmental impacts and possible future health complications involving conventional food-growth methods is ongoing.

Dr. Tamika D. Sims, the senior director of food technology communications in Atlanta Georgia, says both organic and synthetic fertilizers have been “federally regulated.”

According to him, people shouldn’t worry about the numbers on fruits and vegetables they consume but rather focus on reaching a well-balanced diet with a variety of foods needed for good health.

When it comes to picking the right fruits and vegetables, the number of digits also matters. A 4 or 5-digit number indicates where and how the food was grown, in addition to the size and type of food purchased, but when the product is labeled with a sticker consisting of more than five digits, it means it’s not included in the “internationally standardized system.”

Shnomoe | Pixabay

For most, going grocery shopping is a dull task they tend to complete as swiftly as possible.

However, knowing that the food we consume is crucial for our survival and maintaining our health and fitness, we should all pay more attention when choosing the food we purchase. The International Federation for Produce Standards is dedicated to “improving supply chain efficiency” which involves, among other responsibilities, ensuring the provision of high-quality ingredients and “establishing and unifying international standards.”

JeffShattuck | Pixabay

This system was first implemented during the 90’s, when stickers on fruits and vegetables were added. Categorizing these items with numerical codes was to guarantee high quality. The IFPS has issued more than 1,400 such codes. However, since the system is optional, not all fruits and vegetables in stores have been inspected or approved by the IFPS or meet global standards.

Those people who care of the choice of food they consume can find the knowledge behind the meaning of numbers on fruits and vegetables useful. This knowledge can also expedite the self-checkout process by simply entering the PLU code instead of searching for the item by name. The PLU code system is an excellent method to track the delicious and nutritious foods that travel worldwide.

I Taught My Dad a Real Lesson after He Humiliated My Mom

When an 18-year-old college student, Brittany, feels the pangs of homesickness, a simple call to her little brother, Ian, reveals a family in turmoil. Overwhelmed by her mother’s silent struggle under her father’s constant criticism, Brittany decides it’s time for a lesson in gratitude and teamwork.

Feeling homesick is a funny thing; it sneaks up on you when you least expect it, wrapping its cold fingers around your heart and squeezing tight until you’re gasping for the warmth of home.

That’s exactly how I, Brittany, felt, being away at college for over three months. It was the longest I’d ever been away from home, and each day stretched on endlessly without the familiar chaos of my family’s presence.

A young girl using her smartphone | Source: Shutterstock

A young girl using her smartphone | Source: Shutterstock

One day, overcome by a wave of nostalgia, I picked up my phone and dialed Ian, my ten-year-old younger brother. He had always been the beacon of innocence and joy in our family, and just hearing his voice could make any bad day better.

“Hey, bug,” I greeted, using my childhood nickname for him. “I miss you a ton. How’s my favorite little man doing?”

Ian’s voice, a mix of excitement and surprise, came through the phone. “Britt! I miss you too! College is so far away. When are you coming back?”

We talked for what felt like hours. Ian’s endless questions about college life and my attempts to describe my mundane routine in the most exciting way possible filled the gap between us. Yet, despite the laughter and shared stories, a nagging feeling tugged at my heart when I finally steered the conversation toward home.

A smiling young boy | Source: Getty Images

A smiling young boy | Source: Getty Images

“So, how’s everything back there? Mom and Dad doing okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

There was a slight pause, a hesitation in Ian’s voice that I hadn’t expected. “It’s okay, I guess. I really wish you could come visit, though.”

His words, innocent as they were, sent alarm bells ringing in my head. Ian was never one to mince words, but something in his tone suggested there was more he wasn’t saying. That night, I lay awake, the conversation replaying in my mind, my homesickness now mixed with concern.

Determined to shake off the uneasy feeling, I managed to wrap up all my pending college projects ahead of time, packing my bags for an impromptu trip home. The thought of seeing my family again, of hugging my little brother and sharing a meal with my parents, filled me with a rush of excitement I hadn’t felt in weeks.

A rear view of a college student carrying a backpack back home | Source: Shutterstock

A rear view of a college student carrying a backpack back home | Source: Shutterstock

The trip back was a blur of anticipation and anxiety. What was Ian not telling me? Why did his voice carry a weight it never had before?

Stepping into the familiar chaos of my childhood home was both a relief and a shock. The house, with its walls echoing laughter and arguments, welcomed me back with open arms. Yet, it was during one of these typical family evenings that I overheard Dad’s sharp voice cutting through the usual din.

“…And why is dinner cold again, Megan? Can’t you do anything right?”

The words stopped me in my tracks, my heart sinking. I peeked into the kitchen to find Mom, her back to me, shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world.

Angry husband standing in the background blaming his wife | Source: Getty Images

Angry husband standing in the background blaming his wife | Source: Getty Images

Ian caught my eye from where he sat at the kitchen table, his expression a mix of discomfort and resignation. It was a look I had never seen on his face before, and it chilled me to the bone.

Later, when I found Ian alone in his room, I closed the door behind me and sat beside him on the bed. “Hey, bug,” I began, my voice soft but firm. “What’s been going on with Dad and Mom? I heard him earlier…”

Ian shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping before meeting mine again. “Britt, it’s been… tough. Dad’s always on Mom about something. Like, if dinner’s a bit cold or if he finds a single speck of dust on the carpet. It’s like, no matter how much Mom does — cooking, cleaning, laundry — Dad finds something to complain about.”

A tired woman washing dishes in the kitchen | Source: Shutterstock

A tired woman washing dishes in the kitchen | Source: Shutterstock

Hearing Ian articulate it, the reality of the situation hit me hard. The idea of my vibrant, tireless mother being reduced to the target of such constant criticism was unbearable. Something clicked in me right then — a resolve to make things right, to show Dad the enormity of his actions.

So fueled by indignation, I hatched a plan. A plan that, I hoped, would make Dad see the error of his ways and bring some much-needed appreciation and balance back into our family dynamics.

The first part of my plan involved a dramatic, though deceitful, act. I waited until I knew Dad would be at home, took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and dialed his number.

A senior man talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock

A senior man talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock

“Hello?” Dad’s voice came through, a note of surprise in his tone.

“Dad, it’s me,” I began, my voice shaking to feign distress. “I’m at the ER. It’s… it’s bad. I need Mom here with me.”

The panic in his voice was immediate. “What? What happened? I’ll get your mom and we’ll be right there —”

“No, Dad, just send Mom. Please. I… I need her,” I cut in, hoping my act was convincing enough.

After a moment of hurried assurances and panicked questions, Dad agreed, and I hung up, my heart pounding not just from the lie but from what I had to do next.

A young woman sending a text message from her smartphone | Source: Shutterstock

A young woman sending a text message from her smartphone | Source: Shutterstock

I quickly composed a message to Mom, explaining my ruse. “Mom, don’t worry, I’m not in the ER. But Dad thinks I am, and he’s going to tell you to come. Don’t. I’ve booked you a ticket for a little vacation. You deserve a break. Let’s show Dad what you juggle every day.”

My fingers hovered over the send button before I pressed it, sealing our pact of deception and hope.

Mom’s response was a mix of concern and incredulity, but ultimately, she understood the desperation behind my actions. “Are you sure about this, Britt? What about you and Ian?”

“Trust me, Mom. It’s time Dad learned. Ian and I will be fine. Enjoy your break, you deserve it.”

A woman talking to her daughter while standing near the door | Source: Shutterstock

A woman talking to her daughter while standing near the door | Source: Shutterstock

The next day was a whirlwind. Dad’s calls came in, each more frantic than the last, begging Mom to return. Playing her part, Mom promised to come back “in the evening,” stoking Dad’s hope and desperation further.

But when evening came, it wasn’t Mom who walked through the door; it was me. Dad’s face went pale, a mix of confusion and relief battling within him as he took in my healthy appearance.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked, the strain evident in his voice.

“She’s taking a well-deserved break,” I stated firmly, stepping over a toy car in my path. “It’s just you and me for the next few days. And we need to talk, Dad.”

A person standing in a messy room | Source: Shutterstock

A person standing in a messy room | Source: Shutterstock

As I surveyed the chaos of the house — clothes stained with today’s adventures, toys scattered like landmines — I saw something I never thought I would: defeat. Dad sank into a chair, the image of a man overwhelmed by the world he had taken for granted.

“I didn’t realize how much work this was,” he admitted, his eyes taking in the disorder around him. “I can’t keep up with everything.”

“That’s the point, Dad,” I said, sitting down across from him. “Mom does this every day, without a single complaint. She’s the glue that holds us together, and she deserves far more than being criticized over a cold dinner or an unclean carpet.”

The days that followed were a revelation for Dad. Under my guidance, he began to see the intricacy and the effort behind the seamless running of our household. From laundry to cooking to managing Ian’s never-ending energy, Dad got a firsthand experience of Mom’s daily life.

A stressed aged man sitting on a sofa | Source: Shutterstock

A stressed aged man sitting on a sofa | Source: Shutterstock

When Mom finally returned, she found a home that, while not perfect, brimmed with appreciation and newfound respect. As she stepped through the door, her eyes taking in the slightly disordered but peaceful scene, Dad approached her, his demeanor one of humility and newfound understanding.

“Megan,” he began, his voice softer than I’d heard in a long time, “I can’t begin to express how much I’ve missed you, but more importantly, how much I’ve realized the weight of what you do for us every day.”

Mom paused, her expression guarded but curious. “Paul, what’s this all about?”

“These past few days have been… enlightening,” Dad admitted, taking her hands in his. “I never fully appreciated the endless tasks and challenges you face daily. You manage them with such grace and efficiency. I’m sorry for not seeing it before, for not helping more, and for every unwarranted criticism I ever made.”

A happy senior couple hugging | Source: Shutterstock

A happy senior couple hugging | Source: Shutterstock

Mom’s eyes softened, a hint of moisture gleaming as she squeezed his hands back. “Thank you, Paul. That means more to me than you know.”

Meanwhile, Ian and I shared a glance, a silent celebration of the success of our plan. Later, as the evening settled down, Ian and I found a moment alone.

“Britt,” Ian said, a grin spreading across his face, “we did it, didn’t we?”

“We sure did, bug,” I replied, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Thanks for being brave and honest. We make a pretty good team, you know.”

Ian’s smile widened, pride evident in his eyes. “Yeah, we do.”

A father hugging his daughter | Source: Shutterstock

A father hugging his daughter | Source: Shutterstock

Later, Dad pulled me aside, a seriousness in his gaze. “Britt, I owe you an apology — and a thank you. What you did… it was a tough lesson, but one I needed to learn. You’ve shown me the true meaning of family and teamwork.”

I hugged him, feeling the barriers of misunderstanding melt away. “It was a team effort, Dad. We all learned something valuable.”

As our family gathered that night, the atmosphere was different — lighter, warmer, more connected. We talked, we laughed, and for the first time in a long time, we truly listened to each other. The episode that had started as a desperate attempt to bring about change had blossomed into a beautiful lesson in respect, teamwork, and love.

Reflecting on everything, I realized that our family, like so many others, had its flaws and challenges. Yet, it was our willingness to confront those issues, to learn and grow from them, that truly defined us.

A happy mother hugging her two children outdoors | Source: Shutterstock

A happy mother hugging her two children outdoors | Source: Shutterstock

The chaotic days that had seemed so daunting at the beginning had indeed turned into an invaluable lesson in love and respect, one that would guide us forward, stronger and more united than ever.

Do you think I did the right thing?

If this story struck a chord with your heart, here’s another one for you:

Meredith’s typical weekend turned extraordinary when an unexpected discovery by her mother, Camilla, brought her world to a standstill.

With her life seemingly as snug and predictable as a well-worn sweater, Meredith, a 32-year-old mother and wife, believed she had a firm grip on her reality. Her husband, Dave, had always been her rock, their bond strengthening through each of life’s trials. However, life’s penchant for unpredictability was about to be laid bare.

A husband kissing his wife on the cheek | Source: Unsplash

A husband kissing his wife on the cheek | Source: Unsplash

As Meredith prepared for a rare moment of relaxation, an urgent call from her workplace shattered the calm, dragging her away on a weekend. Dave, caught in the throes of sleep after his night shift, remained unaware of the unfolding drama.

Meredith’s call to her mother, seeking help with the children, seemed innocuous enough — a simple request from a daughter to her ever-reliable mother. Little did she know, this act set in motion a series of events that would challenge the very essence of her marriage.

“Hello?” Meredith answered her phone, only to be met with her mother’s frantic urging, “You have to divorce him immediately!” The shock, palpable through the line, was compounded by Dave’s background protests and her mother’s adamant accusation.

An outraged elderly woman talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock

An outraged elderly woman talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock

“I found women’s underwear in his pocket — women’s underwear! He’s been lying to you all this time!” Camilla’s discovery and subsequent demand for immediate action left Meredith reeling, a torrent of emotions clashing within her.

As Meredith’s world teetered on the edge, the drive back home was fraught with turmoil. Her mind raced, grappling with the implications of her mother’s discovery and the fear of what awaited her. The tension that greeted her upon arrival was palpable, a silent testament to the upheaval that had taken root in her absence.

What followed was a confrontation laden with emotions, accusations, and desperate explanations. Yet, the specifics of this exchange, the revelations shared, and the decisions made in its aftermath remain shrouded in mystery.

A wife being mad at her husband in their living room | Source: Shutterstock

A wife being mad at her husband in their living room | Source: Shutterstock

What truths lay buried beneath the surface of Meredith and Dave’s marriage? Click here to find out what happened next.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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