Below, Jaime Sneider correctly posits that the idea of a whale getting trapped in a Whole Foods shopping bag is ridiculous on its face. Funny Jaime should bring up a Whole Foods shopping bag, because for reasons too strange to get into, I’ve had the side of a Whole Foods shopping bag occupying my peripheral vision for some time now. And the bag has generated some thoughts. Let’s see an eco-incorrect bag do that! Whole Foods takes the bother of laying out its “core values” on one of the bag’s panels:
Before going on, I should declare that I consider Whole Foods a national treasure. As one of the chain’s recycled bags in my kitchen attests, I shop there and do so happily. The authors of the manifesto would probably be pleased to know that I consider myself both satisfied and delighted. I love Whole Foods’ quality, service, and variety. I could, however, do without the market’s recycled Kleenex and its sandpaper-like texture. What I found noteworthy about Whole Foods’ brown bag manifesto was that it only mentioned making a profit fourth, and even then sandwiched the concept of making money between some gobbledygook about creating wealth and growth. I understand that a company doesn’t necessarily want to tell its customers that making a profit is what really blows its corporate hair back, but there’s a simple ruthless law that governs capitalistic endeavors: There are generally two types of profit-seeking companies – those that successfully make a profit, and those that don’t remain companies for long. My problem with the Whole Foods manifesto is that it plays on a certain naïveté that is currently quite in vogue when discussing corporations. If you listen to Democratic politicians, you would conclude that we could strip the profit motive from putative malefactors like drug companies and oil companies and our economy would be none the worse for wear. Because socialism always works! And if you read left wing polemicists (as I do with unfortunate frequency), you get the sense that many of them have no concept of how turning a profit is an existential challenge for most companies. A lot of liberal thinkers also seem completely unaware that the pursuit of profit maximization is a bond that publicly traded companies enter into with their stockholders, who often include elements of the downtrodden like widows, schoolteacher unions and public workers. As far as Whole Foods is concerned, I’ve never had business dealings with the chain beyond being an extremely satisfied consumer. I do, however, know a few people who have negotiated deals with Whole Foods quite a bit larger than the purchase of a box of Clementines. Believe it or not, Whole Foods employees are not known for sitting around conference tables in their Birkenstocks insisting that everyone join hands for a couple of choruses of “Kumbaya” before arriving at an equitable way to best share Whole Foods’ wealth. Whole Foods is instead rather notorious for driving a hard bargain, and leveraging its position as an industry leader. That’s as it should be. There’s nothing inherently wrong with Whole Foods peddling the ludicrous notion that turning a profit is a low-ranking priority, especially if it believes its core customer base is gullible enough to believe such rubbish. The problem with the Whole Foods shopping bag is that a lot of people who ought to know better, including virtually the entire Democratic party, seem to have bought into the notion that profit seeking companies can afford to look at making money as a side show.
