Well, hello. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but here we are at Trader Joe’s, which means that we both have excellent taste and care about our personal bottom lines. I’ve been shopping here for years. (Did you know they still have the original bank vault in the basement?) I know every aisle, product, and seasonality from when the sumos are peaking to those lovely cara cara oranges so nice, they named them twice (pink, you’ve got to try them.) The guava jam. You’re going to get over to aisle 4 that and put some in your cart. Now. Quickly before it sells out.

But while we’re at it, we need to talk about how your cart is organized. Like things, with like things, please. Put all of your cold items together. Did you know that the workers don’t like the little carts with two levels? They’re harder for them to unload. Could you imagine bending over to get those things all day every day? I see you picked the bigger cart—it’s clear you value the prices and the friendly team they’ve recruited for this top-grossing location. Did you know that this is a 5,000 SKU store? But they have everything we want, right?

Hey, you, there, eyeing the vanilla ice cream. That quart you’re holding? It’s a premium product. They white label everything. I bet Hagen Daas makes it—and did you clock the price? Do you know what you’d pay across the street at Key Food—twice the price and half as much. I mean, obviously you can afford it. We’re in an old bank with 40 foot ceilings neatly sandwiched between Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill. Get the quart. You’ll be glad you did. I dare you to try not to eat the whole container. Did you ever try it with their no-nut granola? It’s granola but without the oats. You’re allergic to nuts? I’m nuts? Fuck you. What’s really insane is you passing on it. It’s amazing. Maybe your partner would like it. They deserve dessert if they have to put up with your turning up your nose at this wholesome goodness.

Excuse me—would you mind handing me a dozen of those pasture raised eggs? If you were smart you’d put a dozen in your cart. See that Certified Humane label? It means something. I used to know the egg lady at Consumer Reports. She knew eggs—raised her own hens and taught me all about so-called “cage free” and the other things they used to market to us. But that “certified humane” label? That means a hen that lives a charmed life. And your wallet? It’s going to like them too. Yeah, you know, that Key Food is expensive. Fucking Brooklyn. I bet eggs are cheaper at Citarella on the Upper East Side than across the street.

What, you say the line is long? This is the fastest moving line in Brooklyn. If you work it right you can do about 1/3 of your shopping while you’re in line. And did you know that their cheerful, yet well-designed and punny cards are 1 buck and a quarter? At that price can you afford not to tell someone to tell them that you care? We also may revel in the emotional labor that cheerful employees provide while not being allowed to unionize. It makes me a bit uncomfortable too, but not enough to go to Whole Foods, I mean, Bezos is worse, right?

15? I love 15. Tim! How are you? I was hoping they’d send me to you today. “Hey Tom, did you see the veggie sausages are back in stock?” Of course I did, and how about that purple broccoli opportunity buy? I love this place.