It always happens when the boss is out of town.
It was the early ’90s, and as a produce specialist, my job was multifaceted. On any given day, I made (mostly) unannounced visits to any of the dozens of stores in my territory. I’d check for everything: standards, ad compliance, labor conditions, stock conditions, program compliance.
In short, I was one of the “they” players in produce managers’ minds when, as they worked, they’d say to themselves, “I better do this the right way, because you never know, ‘they’ might be in to check.”
It was an ongoing, mostly rewarding job — except when someone threw you a curve.
In my case one day, I stopped at our warehouse briefly when our director was out of town. The four buyers for our 66-store chain were great, always casual in their jeans and demeanor. Just when I was about to leave for more store visits, Keith, one of the buyers, stuck his head out of the shared office and waved me down.
He said I had to go to store No. 1 to be there in an hour to talk to a local TV news contact.
I shook my head and smiled. Another ploy from these tricksters, I thought. “OK,” I said suspiciously. “What’s up?”
Keith spoke for the buying team: “You know about the problems with the head lettuce down in Yuma, [Ariz.], right?”
I was aware and knew at once this was no joke. In the past week, weather and flooding had washed out or closed key bridges in certain winter desert growing regions, forcing logistics problems and with it, a temporary head lettuce shortage.
“So, what does the news want from us?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell them? It’s just one SKU, and from what I’ve heard, it’ll be remedied in no time. Look, we’ve already instructed the stores to cut down the head lettuce facings. There’s plenty of leafy greens, spinach and cabbage. The average customer probably doesn’t realize there’s an issue. Besides, you guys know way more about this than I do. Why don’t one of you go?”
Keith motioned to his casual attire. “You’ve got the coat and tie, bub. You’re elected.”
Great, I thought. So, I hustled over the busy downtown store location after calling the store’s produce manager to give him a heads-up. “Don’t worry,” he told me. “We’re closest to the news station, so we’re used to seeing those guys on occasion. We’re in good shape.”
When I arrived, a TV news van was already parked out front. “Really?” I thought. “A temporary gap in head lettuce supply? Must be a slow news day.”
The only coaching I had from the buyers was that in fact, the gap was brief, bridges were expected to reopen in the next day or so, and we had lots of other vegetables on hand for salads. Nervous, I rehearsed these facts in my mind. I wasn’t used to being in front of cameras.
The cameraman, er, photojournalist got into position, and in front of the wet rack, I spoke to the reporter, who was very professional and pleasant and got right to the points I rehearsed. We were done in less than 20 minutes.
My wife called me later that afternoon. “I saw you on the news,” she said. “Is there really a disastrous lettuce shortage?”
“Ugh. Well, not in so many words,” I said. Sometimes news outlets like to take a page 20 story and elevate it to a front-page headline — as in, “World in Turmoil” when it’s a slow day and the media is trying to generate interest. It happens, and it happened that day as well.
What I had explained about the head lettuce shortage being temporary and the fact that we had lots of salad alternatives on hand were edited out. The story led with the equivalent of “Vegetable World in Turmoil,” with only a few, select comments intact. Ugh.
I remembered the same reporter had cooked up a somewhat contrived story the summer before on scene in my own neighborhood, reporting about some shocking flooding going on after an afternoon thunderstorm. I peered at the well-flooded background during the report on screen, skeptical as my rolling-hills suburban area is not prone to flooding. “Hmm,” I thought. “Why, she’s at the (flat, low-lying) softball fields. Nobody lives near the softball fields!”
Journalists. We all have our moments, I suppose. Film at 11.
Armand Lobato’s more than 50 years of experience in the produce business span a range of foodservice and retail positions. He has written a weekly retail column for nearly two decades.
