Dear Mr. Meyer

Dear Mr. Meyer

As a longtime patron of yours, recent visits to your store on North Lombard in Portland have left me wondering a very specific question: why do you fucking hate your customers?

Every single time I go to your store, my experience as a customer is worse, and it's all in the name of security theater bullshit. It used to be that the two tiny doors to get in and out of your store were two way; now they’re gated so that the doors are one-way only. This becomes terribly inconvenient when, like tonight, someone decides to park one of those motorized carts directly in front of the door and walk away, producing a bottleneck so severe in the flow of people that it takes actual minutes to enter your store with a cart.

Then there’s the brand new security barrier you’ve erected, all gleaming steel, to make the people-funnel even tighter and harder to get through, especially when someone stops to talk to the guy selling AT&T plans right there in the way of traffic flow. I estimate that these pointless bullshit security theater shenanigans took up approximately 15% of my in-store time, which is actually impressive because I spent exactly zero minutes of that time shopping! I can see wanting to maximize my time in-store so that I buy more overpriced Limited Edition Oreo Soft Baked Lamb And Mint Jam Mother Goose Crossover Edition or whatever bullshit fake flavors they’re selling these days, but to stand there! Getting mad! Why do you hate me, Mr. Meyer?

And let’s don’t get started on just how many products are locked up these days! I sorta got it when like, idk, spraypaint was locked up. That’s fine, I guess - personally I don’t give a single rat’s arse if some kids steal spraypaint and tag an underpass with poorly spelled insults, but I know some people get their panties in a twist over it. But laundry detergent! My gods! I actually have to wonder - has the amount of laundry detergent your stores sell gone down since locking that shit up? There is no way in hell I’d ever wait around one of your understaffed as hell stores while I make an understandably irritated, overworked employee come around and unlock a case so they can cart a 192 Load Extra Giant American Sized Natural Hypoallergenic Rainforest Bouquet jug of Tide over to a cashier! In fact, the only way I would possibly go through all of that is to make a point! Force the employee to come over, make her call her manager, and then when the manager got there, make them open the case, and then when we got to the cashier, I’d just say “never mind” and walk out without buying shit, because if you fucking hate me that much I might as well give you a nice middle finger back, sir. It’s not like you’re the only game in town. I can wait one day to do laundry while I get a reasonably sized bottle of detergent dropped off at my door by Mr. Amazon.

But all of this? All of this isn’t even the worst part of the experience. You know what the worst part is? I’ll tell you. So I walk up to the self-checkout, and start scanning my items. I’m on camera the whole time. The cameras are right there, you can see them, right over your head. I start scanning. Something goes wrong, the single harried cashier has to come over and unlock my register. Fine. I keep scanning. I bet there are more cameras watching me. I finish, and the machine locks up again. The cashier has to come over, again, and count my ten items, and I know that I have ten items, because the machine is telling the cashier to count the items, right there where I can see it. I already feel disrespected, because this experience is hot fucking bullshit. But fine, I can see the exit right there, I’m literally at the self-checkout machine closest to the door. I’m about to be out of here.

And then the fucking rent-a-cop asks to see my receipt.

Fuck you, Mr. Meyer.

Let me be absolutely fucking crystal clear on this, sir: I have never, and I will never, show the fucking rent-a-cop my fucking receipt. The absolute gall you have, sir. The existence of self-checkout machines is already only about protecting your bottom line. You automated away a job! Well done! OH NO THERE MIGHT BE SOME SHRINKAGE. You have two choices: bring back cashiers, or hire fucking rent-a-cops to check everyone’s receipt on the way out. The absolute sheer contempt you must feel, sir, for your customers. You are literally fighting in court to merge with Mr. Albertson because whinge whinge anticompetitive market structuring will make you more dollars when you’re actively insulting your customer base daily with hiring fucking rent-a-cops to police whether they’ve paid for items that are already locked up? I cannot believe your gall, your nerve, your absolute shifty-eyed penny-pinching brazen cheek.

I don’t know if I’ve been clear yet, sir, but let me lay it all out for you: your once-fine establishment on North Lombard isn’t even the closest grocery store to my house. Mr. Safeway and Mr. Seasons have stores that are much more convenient for me to get to. Do you know why I go to your store, sir? Because, up until about six months ago, your store was the better shopping experience. I liked going to your store. Now, I leave your store full of fucking rage. Yeah, the Safeway on MLK sucks, but it doesn’t actively insult me the whole time I’m there, it just isn’t particularly pleasant. Yeah, the New Seasons is expensive, but it doesn’t make me feel like a criminal the whole time I’m in it.

On the other hand, your store? I have to wonder every time I leave if this is the time that the fucking rent-a-cop tases me because fuck you I won’t show you my fucking receipt, it’s in my hand, go to hell.

So let me save you the need to send me a bland and workshopped “thank you for sharing your concerns with us, your letter has been forwarded to the appropriate department” canned response: I won’t be going to your fucking stores anymore. The level of stress that the useless bullshit your “security” measures cause me is just not worth whatever money I save by not going to New Seasons. At least they don’t actively hate me, and express that contempt in actionable, physical ways.

So in closing: fuck you. Whatever money you fucking save for your shareholders with this horse puckey, I hope it’s offset by people not going to your stores anymore, because they see the contempt you hold us all in.

With absolute disrespect,

Alex Parise