An Open Letter To My Grocer

Dear Sir,

I wish to express my strong dissatisfaction with your practice of recording and tracking my purchases.

I realize that, according to you, this is done in order to more effectively manage your inventory and to create custom savings opportunities for your customers, but let's be truthful with each other, shall we? You monitor these purchases so you can determine what I like and then cease to provide it.

Time after time, always shortly after I discover a product and make it a part of my regular diet, you remove it from your shelves. It doesn't matter how long the product was carried by your chain prior to that, once I become a regular consumer, it's gone.

I could understand this if I were purchasing odd items. If, for example, I were searching for fresh Dalmatian puppy hearts that had been marinated in the blood of young virgin Russian women, I would understand. But I'm not searching for such items at your location. That's what gourmet grocery stores are for. I'm just looking for cereal and potato chips and the like.

I've heard all of the arguments before. You claim that monitoring the purchases of your clients allows you to give them a variety of goods. Personally, I don't consider "variety" to mean "six brands of oreos whose only distinguishing characteristic is differently colored cream filling". You claim that you are able to tailor make coupons specifically geared towards me. If so, I wonder what I bought that led you to the conclusion that I was a likely purchaser of depilatory creams.

You argue that your customers appreciate your practice. In my experience, people often say they enjoy something even when they don't mean it. Every woman I know tells me they enjoy massages, but as soon as I put my hands up inside the fronts of their shirts, they get all belligerent, so clearly, people seldom mean what they say.

The only conclusion, therefore, is that you have a personal vendetta against me, just like my Nintendo Wii and the folks who conspired to label my jeans so that it appears I wear a 38, when I clearly am much more svelte.

I wish I knew what I had done to offend you. I shopped faithfully at your store, even during strikes by your cashiers and baggers. I ignored your price gouging. At let's not forget the night you had your unfortunate "accident" with that drunken "working girl". I'm not saying I regret helping you dispose of her remains. I'm just saying that I really would enjoy having that freezer space back.

The point is, I thought we were friends. I thought we understood each other. I thought you had my back. Clearly, I was wrong.

I've done all I can for you. I hate to say it, but I think our relationship has soured beyond repair, much like the milk you sold me last week. It didn't have to end this way. All you had to do was say those simple little words you knew I wanted, needed to hear: "The Sunrise cereal is in aisle four." But you couldn't even do that.

Have a nice life.