Whole Foods charged me $6.90 for a tiny eggplant that, after I insisted, was correctly priced at $1.84. I caught the mistake – not the vegetable department, not the checkout woman, not the supervisor, and not the store manager. It took me 30 minutes to convince them that their product was wrongly rung up and when they said the wrong sticker was on it, it took me more time to question their lack of concern about all the other customers who had been over-charged.
“We’re fixing it now. They’re changing the stickers. Everything’s okay.”
“No, it’s illegal to mark products wrongly and to overcharge. How many eggplants did you sell today and why don’t you seem to mind having ripped off other customers.”
“We get it right 99% of the time.”
“How do you know? It’s me that identified the problem, not any of your staff.”
“There’s nothing I can do about the other customers.”
“And you have done nothing for me, but waste my time. I’m going to send you an invoice to cover these 40 minutes of my life that you’re forced me to work on your store’s quality control.”
They give me a gift card for a paltry $20. I wonder how regularly they make these “mistakes.” Beware Whole Foods. From their prices you can see they are rapacious. And now we know they not only make charging “errors,” but don’t even apologize for having wrongfully pocketed our money.
I take my bag of groceries and leave the store, only to find that on this, the first day of Spring, it is pouring snow and my car is covered with it. “Oh shit,” I say at the exit. “Oh shit,” says the guy next to me.
“You know what?” I tell him, “one more winter like this and Boston’s going to lose half its population.”
“Already happening,” says he. “I’m moving to Atlanta in three weeks.”
“And we,” says the woman of a couple right behind us, “are going to Florida next year from November to March, aren’t we honey?”
Ripped off and snowed on: Is it any wonder that I’ve arrived home and am slumped in front of my third hour of “Murder, she wrote.”