Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Customer is Always Wrong
I've had a few exasperating experiences this past weekend, during which I cursed the gods and fate, and damned my country, my state, and my species. My wife knows that I'm just Being Me, which in this case is Ralph Kramden's doppelganger. I sputtered and fulminated, turning the air blue with invective.
The main source of my discontent lies with a soviet-style supermarket chain known as Aldi's. The Aldi's philosophy may be stated simply as follows: The Customer is Always Wrong. If Aldi's can save a few pennies, what does it matter how it may disappoint, crush, and inconvenience the consumer. Aldi's cuts costs to the bone, leaving throbbing scars.
Over the past year or so, I have had occasion to enjoy a particular brand of beer sold at Aldi's, and apparently no where else in the United States of America--Wernesgruner. After our local Saranac Brewery stopped making my favorite pilsener (opting instead to push its so-called "Traditional Lager," which tastes like a cocktail of douche and turpentine), I spent months in mourning. Saranac, to paraphrase Don Marquis, made me want to cry into my beer and denied me the beer to cry into. After my year or so of "thinking, thinking, thinking of beer" (Marquis again), I discovered Wernesgruner. It had that lovely pilsener aftertaste, and was reasonably cheap. Life was worth living again.
Then the State of New York (bless its soul!) upped the fees for beer licenses for grocery stores--and Aldi's got economy minded and dropped all beer from its New York outlets. Never mind that Wernesgruener was the only beer nearby fit to drink under $25 a case, and its lack would sorely inconvenience and distress those who turned to it as an oasis in a sea of Old Swillwaukee, Spudweiser, Mildew, and Rocky Mountain Oyster Brau. (And I'm boycotting my own local brewery out of principle.) So they can carve pennies off prices, Aldi's killed one of the great amenities available to the harrassed and inconvienced masses living in Central New York State.
Perhaps some of you can live with beer that tastes of Nutri-sweet and formaldehyde, and leaves your head ringing like a firehouse gong after two servings. Perhaps you feel that I should not get above my station, but enjoy the same rotten American corporatebrau the rest of you lap up. Moreover, some of you may feel I should not be trafficking with John Barleycorn at all, but drink spring water to accompany a cheerful plate of sprouts. My invective over this weekend was the shoe that fits you and you must wear it.
To further turn the screw, we passed by our local discount beer store to see if they offered (for sale by the growler) Pilsner Urquell on tap. This was too much for which to hope. The growler taps dripped with the sweetness of all the various faux-wassails that emerge to please the palate of those who would drink beer only if it tasted more like sody pop. Thus another aspect of Christmas as Glucose Tolerance Test. When we inquired if the beloved Urquell would soon be returning to their roster of drafts, we were told that the distributor would no longer sell the barrels to the Utica area. I smiled at the beer dealer. "That must be," I said, "because we're hicks."
If your taste in is your ass in this country, you must be truly happy. You are the target market of everything offered by those limiting real choice. You like the ooze that commonly plays on the radio. You eagerly participate in the corporate scheme to salt-and-sugar you to death. You vote for Republicans and Democrats like it makes a difference. You watch television. And you drink beer that the Czechs and Germans would not use to poison garden slugs.
God Bless you. And God help the rest of us. ¶ 12:10 AM
The main source of my discontent lies with a soviet-style supermarket chain known as Aldi's. The Aldi's philosophy may be stated simply as follows: The Customer is Always Wrong. If Aldi's can save a few pennies, what does it matter how it may disappoint, crush, and inconvenience the consumer. Aldi's cuts costs to the bone, leaving throbbing scars.
Over the past year or so, I have had occasion to enjoy a particular brand of beer sold at Aldi's, and apparently no where else in the United States of America--Wernesgruner. After our local Saranac Brewery stopped making my favorite pilsener (opting instead to push its so-called "Traditional Lager," which tastes like a cocktail of douche and turpentine), I spent months in mourning. Saranac, to paraphrase Don Marquis, made me want to cry into my beer and denied me the beer to cry into. After my year or so of "thinking, thinking, thinking of beer" (Marquis again), I discovered Wernesgruner. It had that lovely pilsener aftertaste, and was reasonably cheap. Life was worth living again.
Then the State of New York (bless its soul!) upped the fees for beer licenses for grocery stores--and Aldi's got economy minded and dropped all beer from its New York outlets. Never mind that Wernesgruener was the only beer nearby fit to drink under $25 a case, and its lack would sorely inconvenience and distress those who turned to it as an oasis in a sea of Old Swillwaukee, Spudweiser, Mildew, and Rocky Mountain Oyster Brau. (And I'm boycotting my own local brewery out of principle.) So they can carve pennies off prices, Aldi's killed one of the great amenities available to the harrassed and inconvienced masses living in Central New York State.
Perhaps some of you can live with beer that tastes of Nutri-sweet and formaldehyde, and leaves your head ringing like a firehouse gong after two servings. Perhaps you feel that I should not get above my station, but enjoy the same rotten American corporatebrau the rest of you lap up. Moreover, some of you may feel I should not be trafficking with John Barleycorn at all, but drink spring water to accompany a cheerful plate of sprouts. My invective over this weekend was the shoe that fits you and you must wear it.
To further turn the screw, we passed by our local discount beer store to see if they offered (for sale by the growler) Pilsner Urquell on tap. This was too much for which to hope. The growler taps dripped with the sweetness of all the various faux-wassails that emerge to please the palate of those who would drink beer only if it tasted more like sody pop. Thus another aspect of Christmas as Glucose Tolerance Test. When we inquired if the beloved Urquell would soon be returning to their roster of drafts, we were told that the distributor would no longer sell the barrels to the Utica area. I smiled at the beer dealer. "That must be," I said, "because we're hicks."
If your taste in is your ass in this country, you must be truly happy. You are the target market of everything offered by those limiting real choice. You like the ooze that commonly plays on the radio. You eagerly participate in the corporate scheme to salt-and-sugar you to death. You vote for Republicans and Democrats like it makes a difference. You watch television. And you drink beer that the Czechs and Germans would not use to poison garden slugs.
God Bless you. And God help the rest of us. ¶ 12:10 AM
