You will never look at a supermarket in the same way, after reading Benjamin Lorr’s The Secret Life of Groceries. Lorr gives you a glimpse behind the curtain – that’s what an apocalypse means – not of the ugly future of retail grocery, but of the present. You will be shocked, horrified, and throw up your hands in despair wishing for the good old days before such beasts existed, unless of course they’ve always existed for you.
Having grown up in what was then known as a third-world country in the tropics, my experience with supermarkets was limited. I was more familiar with two types of markets for fresh produce. The morning “wet” market, so-called because the floors were always wet with the constant washing off of blood and dirt, brought many traders under the same permanent roof. They had running water. The night markets roved around town, different locations on different nights. No running water and so meat and fish came in smaller chunks or whole, but the butcher could further slice and dice, and the fishmonger would descale if needed.
In my early years, for the many women who were housewives and didn’t drive, and who were not close to a market, there were little produce trucks that conveniently brought a selection of fruit, vegetables, meat, and fish, to your doorstep. Loud honking noises announced their arrival on your street. Then, small grocery stores started to pop up in each neighborhood. By small, I mean the size of a convenience store. In fact, that’s literally what they were – convenient places for you to get some limited items, along with snacks, bread, flour, eggs, and the daily newspaper.
Lorr reminded me of my childhood with his interesting discussion of convenience stores and 7-Eleven. When the first 7-Eleven opened not too far away, my friends and I cycled over to see what the hubbub was all about. It was still the size of a convenience store, but we spent a long time looking at packaged foods and enjoying the air-conditioning. I shared a Big Gulp once with several other friends. When the first nearby supermarket opened, it was the size of three convenience stores, tiny by today’s standards here in the U.S. It was not air-conditioned; it was stuffy and the shelves in the back were packed with lots of canned goods. There was a larger more expensive air-conditioned much further away. It catered to expats. I almost never went in.
When I came to the U.S. for college, my first walk into a Safeway was bewildering. The size, the scope, the variety of choice, was staggering to my little mind. I was also cold, jet-lagged, and miserably unadjusted to my new surroundings. Several months later, I was used to it, and was pleased by one-stop-shopping and that the shelves were always stocked. What a revelation! Then I found larger stores that provided even lower prices. A bargain for a student on a budget. I now had a taste of the American dream of convenience and plenty. I never really thought about what goes into such an operation.
The Secret Life of Groceries is not for the faint of heart. But I’ve now come away with a better understanding of the complexities of the operation and how ruthless ‘world is flat’ globalization trends have led to the gargantuan system we have – not just in the U.S. but all over the world. Huge hypermarkets are the norm now, even in my hometown. As consumers we only see the front-end, all-smiles. The back-end is eye-opening, even in this day and age where we’ve exposed to the stories of the terrible conditions of the meat-industry, industrial-chicken-farming, the cut-throat world of growing rice or wheat or whatever your staple produce might be. Lorr picks some choice examples in his book, even as he highlights the lives of people caught in this system. The stories are heartbreaking.
The best and most interesting chapter is the first one, “Salad Days at Trader Joe’s”. The story of its founding, its founder, its philosophy, and its market-niche focus, is a fascinating tale. I found myself thinking about my own industry: Is there an equivalent niche, the Trader Joe’s of higher education? I don’t know, but I was amazed to learn the amount of work and thought and laser-focus that Joe Coulombe put into creating his own market, side-stepping head-to-head competition with bigger and leaner operations. And then he was bought out by one of them. I think there are lessons to be learned from this story, but I’m still mulling them over in my mind.
Each chapter focuses on a different aspect of the supply chain. Yet again, I found myself thinking about parallels (and distinct differences) from higher education. There’s an equivalent to adjunctification of faculty, except it is much worse in retail – something I’ve also learned through the stories of my students who work part-time off-campus. There’s an equivalent to the hustle of selling your brand and reeling in customers (ahem, I mean clients, no I mean students) while fending off the competition, except much worse in retail. There’s an equivalent to the explosion of audits, certifications, regulations, assessments, paperwork, except that in retail… well, you know what I’m going to say. Trust is in short supply these days. It will only get worse.
Like education, there’s also a similar Iron Triangle dilemma in retail. Reformers (usually NGOs) talk about balancing people, profits, and the planet. But let’s be honest. Profit is king in retail. And if you’re trying to also improve your image or branding through how your outfit is better for the planet than your competitors, something is going to get the short end of the stick. Actually someone. Many people. All those on the back-end. It’s a wicked problem indeed. Lorr doesn’t provide any easy answers, and it’s a testament to his reflective acknowledgment of the complexity. What did he learn?
Here’s my quote of the conclusion: “… the great lesson of my time with groceries is that we have got the food system we deserve. The adage is all wrong: it’s not that we are what we eat, it’s that we eat the way we are. Retail grocery is a reflection. What people call the supply chain is a long, interconnected network of human beings working on other humans’ behalf. It responds to our actions, not our pieties; and in its current form it demands convenience and efficiency… The result is both incredible beyond words – abundance, wish fulfillment, and low price – and as cruel and demeaning as…” You can complete the sentence with any nauseating example from his book.
I recommend The Secret Life of Groceries. Lorr is both an engaging writer, knowing how to turn a phrase, and also a reflective one. But it is a depressing book, and one I will only read once, unlike The Idea Factory, which provides an interesting contrast as I think about innovation in Bell Labs versus Trader Joe’s. Still, it might change how you fundamentally view the apocalypse that is consumerism, and if this spurs you to action, maybe the book will have done some good in this world.
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