High Desert Rambler: An Open Letter to the Supermarket Industry Upon My Retirement

When I first walked in the door of a small chain of family grocery stores in Sedona, Arizona in the fall of 1984, I wasn't looking for a career. I was looking for a part-time job to survive until I figured myself out. Even then, supermarket work was not a glamorous profession, but, at the time, it did offer a respectable, solid, middle-class job. There was not only opportunity for a living wage, but a chance to learn a skill and opportunity for advancement. It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of. I started in a meat department that still processed hanging beef. The crew was a rough-edged bunch of men who possessed both a fierce competency and a craftsman's pride in their work. The bakery had real scratch bakers, the deli cooked actual meals and was run by a former owner of a catering business. The produce manger was volunteer fireman and paramedic. It was a fun and extremely proficient and professional crew. Management was store-directed. The store director and grocery manager were extremely competent people and they were pretty much left to handle business as they saw fit. Technology, per se, did not exist. We still priced all items by hand with a sticker gun. The wrapping machine was completely mechanical with slugs and paper labels, and large paper signs in the storefront windows was our major means of promotion. Oh yeah, we also had trading stamps.

The benefits were great. We had better healthcare than the building trades. We had a pension that accrued annually. We had outstanding perks. Once you're sick time maxed out, you were paid out the extra week every year. Great incentive for not using your sick time. We got an extra paid day off every year we did not have an accident. You got your birthday paid off . You got your workplace anniversary paid off. We got first dibs on any steaks that didn't sell. We had store picnics in the summer. Christmas parties in the winter. We were given gifts or gift cards for the holidays.

It was, in short, an okay job. And, every time I got ready to move on, they gave me a significant pay bump.

The “glory days” did not last long. Beginning around 1990, we transitioned to box beef. I remember the old cutters bemoaning the change and saying that was the end of the line for the trade. Us young guys rolled our eyes. Cutting box beef would save time—but it wasn't any easier. The craft wasn't in the breaking—it was in the merchandising of the cuts. It was easy to cut top rounds steaks—but that used only 70 percent of the primal. It was what you did with the ends and scraps that made money. That is the real art of meat-cutting and surely that would never go away.

But it did. Slowly, surely, they were right. Justifying that our job was now easier, the labor budget started shrinking. Then they started adding technology—again saying our job has now easier-- and shrinking the labor budget. Then with the rise of big box stores like Walmart, they claimed they had to shrink to compete. What followed was a steady loss of benefits, perks, labor and wages. The real turning point was the California labor strike of the early 2000s. The unions settled for a two-tier wage and benefit structure grandfathering in the old wage and benefits (but freezing them in perpetuity) while subjecting the new hires to a new minimum wage structure. I had a feeling then that it was time to get out. If only I'd had an inkling what going the next 20 years without even a cost-of-living raise was going to feel like... I would've, should've, have run screaming out of the store. Alas, what they say about frogs in a pot of water slowly coming to boil is true.

Since then, the grocery industry's race to the bottom (lowest prices, lowest wages, lowest benefits, lowest quality, lowest service) was on and continues to this day. Just when I think it cannot possibly get worse, it does.

They tell us our work is not “skilled.” The justification for paying us basically minimum wage is that anybody can do it. Take any able-bodied person off the street, give them a couple days training and they can do our job. Fair enough. But can they do it well, can they do it efficiently and, most importantly, can they keep doing it day-in and day-out, year after year?

It takes a certain personality, a mixture of patience and emotional grit, to survive for long in this industry. We are always “on.” The customer service is ongoing and endless. The schedule is unrelenting and often cruel. I have had a handful of weekends off in my 42 year career. I want you to take a moment and think about that. Most people take weekends for granted. Two days off (together!) with the majority of everyone else is not only time to catch up on chores but time to bond with friends and family and even your co-workers. Retail workers don't have that. They have a constantly juggled and haphazard schedule that is not at all family friendly and often impossible. For many years my wife and I worked different schedules. I usually had an early morning shift. She had an evening shift and we joked that we were “tag-team parents.” We were proud of the fact, but when I look back, I can only see the cost in parenting. Just the lack of a family meal. The lack of family together days. I'm sure it had a profound effect on our parenting and our family.

Holidays? The time for family gathering and celebration? Ha! The time for grueling overtime, stress and exhaustion. It became a recurring meme in my house that I would spend Christmas Eve lying on the floor, trying to stretch my back out, and would eventually fall asleep next to the Christmas tree. While other people enjoy the week off, we were lucky to get just Christmas day off which was usually spent in an exhausted stupor. Summer holidays? Family camp outs and water-skiing at the lake?. Backyard parties and BBQing with a group of friends? Nope, nope and nope.

I don't think that anybody appreciates what kind of sacrifice just the schedule causes. Forty two years without a real holiday or a weekend. It alters your life. It affects your ability to make and keep friends. It affects your relationships with just about everything. I was kind of lucky in that I am something of a loner and I learned early on to enjoy hiking and doing things alone. But not everyone is like me. And often I wonder if I would have been that extreme of a loner if I'd had a normal lifestyle.

The work itself, while technically easy, is one of constant conflict resolution. Being on the front lines, we are the ones interacting with the customers, we are the ones taking the punishment for understaffed stores, rookie mistakes and increasingly unpopular corporate policies. Hate the digital coupons? Don't want to download the app? Sick of price discrepancies and inaccurate product descriptions? Misleading ads? Long lines? Empty shelves? We get to hear it all from the customers while getting heat from the corporate people to keep enforcing their inefficient bullshit policies.

Besides the poor pay and the crazy schedules, that might be one of the hardest thing we grapple with on a daily basis. The absurd level of corporate bureaucracy and the subsequent compliancies and mandates and the often dysfunctional technology that is crammed down our throats is mind numbing. Even as they cut labor hours, they are constantly adding new bureaucratic and compliance initiatives until you feel like you are living in a sci-fi dystopia. Temperature logs, cleaning logs, policy sign offs, grind tracking, fat tests, inventory checks, production planner printouts and adjustments, firm orders, HR videos... There are so many rules now that it is quite impossible to do them all. In fact the union, when it is upset with a company instructs their members to “work to rule” also known as malicious compliance. Knowing that if every single rule was followed to the letter, nothing would ever get done. Whenever you get a group of retail workers together, I guarantee you they will start telling stories about being stuck in a Catch 22 of no-win corporate bullshit, a labyrinth of idiocy..

We see you're not following the production planner! It's not accurate nor logical Well it would be accurate if you made the proper adjustments. If I have to make the adjustments why do I need a production planner? Because it's a very expensive program that makes your job easier..

Your shrink is too high. Because you send me a pallet of yogurt I didn't order. It's your responsibility to adjust the pre-books. I was told not to adjust the pre-books. You're not allowed to adjust the pre-books unless it's necessary to adjust the pre-books..

You missed a sweep log last week. I was short four people that day. I had customers lined up to the back of the store. It's absolutely vital we have 100% compliance on the sweep logs.

That's the thing about daily life in a grocery store. It's not just the low pay. It's not just the angry customers. It's not just the clueless corporate stooges. It's not just the schedule. It's everything. All of it. All the time. Morale is always low and getting lower. Employee turnover is ridiculously high. Absenteeism and employees who've given up or quit trying are the norm. And who can blame them? Positions, even department management positions, go unfilled for months at a time. We are always, always, always working short-handed. And always training someone new with no allowance for the extra time that takes. It is impossible to do the job right with any sort of pride or competence. Worse, there is no incentive to do so. The few good people that are left get worked into the ground with absolutely no mercy or gratitude.

Utter Corporate Bullshit

There is no longer any dignity or honor in the job. It's a no-win dead end. And that is the worst fucking thing of all.

It didn't have to be that way. Briefly, during the pandemic, the working dynamics changed. Suddenly we were essential workers. We were supermarket heroes. Customers were thanking us for being there for them. Supervisors came in every 6-8 weeks with gift card bonuses. A congressman even proposed legislation giving us a $40K bonus. (we laughed and laughed about that one). The thing is-- we weren't doing anything we didn't do on a regular basis day-in and day-out, year after year. I guess there was a risk involved—but there is every day in retail. We are on the front lines of societal crazy, very flu bug, every infectious disease and every drug-induced maniac that comes around. At least then we were being recognized for it. For a brief time, people recognized that we were essential—and it seemed like the grocery business had an opportunity to change. To value its workforce.

During the pandemic we cut everything we could get our hands on

Nope. As soon as the pandemic was over the companies went back to squeezing the payroll budget and treating us like vermin . Look, I know the supermarket industry is an extremely competitive one—one that works on laser thin margins. I get that. But the way they treat their front line people is completely dysfunctional, self-sabotaging and morally wrong. Some companies have bucked the trend and succeeded brilliantly. Costco pays their hourly workers and average of $26 an hour—compared to $17 for the rest of their industry. Their turnover rate is 8%--compared to 60%. And the efficiency, I'm not sure how to measure it, but if you've ever been in a busy Costco you know those workers are motivated and productive and, imagine this, fucking competent at their job.

The argument that they simply, can't possibly, pay better is bullshit. The fact that I, an experienced, highly proficient tradesman, end my career making marginally more than a new hire clerk, is ridiculous and a large part of the problem. People want jobs to aspire to. When I first hired in, I busted my ass to get a shot at a meat-cutting apprenticeship. It taught me to work and set the foundation for the rest of my career. Now, when you are hired in at basically the ceiling, then what's the motivation?

The truth is we, the front line workers, the people that are the face of their franchise, are simply an afterthought, an unfortunate but controllable expense. It is not only the dismal pay but the general culture of passive neglect. One of the famous retail memes is: we posted record profits last quarter and all we got was a pizza party! To which more than half of us responded: WTF? You get pizza? For the last many years there has been no effort to encourage, reward or motivate the store level workers--unless you count the biannual anti-union propaganda meetings we are forced to sit through. It is this mindset that has made the job so thankless, so grim, so insufferable. There are no standards anymore. They are just happy to fill the positions with any foolish warm body they can lure in. Misfits and miscreants, rejects and reprobates, they could care less who wears their company's logo and represent their ideals. So self-defeating, short-sighted and clueless.

So yeah, I'm tired, fed-up, bitter and extremely disappointed in my workplace (and myself for sticking it out this long). Doesn't matter anymore. I've put in my time and, through a combination of some old benefits that no longer exist, some aggressive wrangling with one of the few new ones and a lifetime of scrimping and saving, I'm able to retire. You have no idea the relief and joy. No fucking idea.

To my fellow front line comrades-in-arms, I would like to say thank you. Thank you for your steadfast work ethic, your effort in the face of overwhelming odds, your black fucking humor, and, most of all, your friendship. We will be brothers always.