Thanks for Sharing

The Gay Uncle discovered something very interesting today while on location in the Midwest working on a consulting project for a major food manufacturer. He was doing what is called a “shop along”. This is when he follows a consumer around a supermarket, peppering them with important questions about how they make their purchase decisions. Things like, “Why is that the right time for consuming cheese?” or “What else do you like to put peanut butter on?” The people he is following take these questions very seriously–as does he–in part because they’re getting paid (as is he.) They also seem to really enjoy the opportunity to have someone to talk to, or more often, someone to listen to them talk. Why is this? Because people relish feeling important, no matter how minor their relevance. Because people appreciate having their opinions valued, even if its by someone who is going to go out into the parking lot moments after they finish and mercilessly ridicule everything they said. And because we live in an alienating society in which most folks feel desperately lost and alone, without any social safety net or support, and fear they’re just one tiny mistake away from residing in a cardboard box beneath an underpass, eating cat food. How does the G.U. know this? Because during his store-walk today, while he and his consumer were paused in front of a display featuring a new Pop Tart product–one that provides 20% of the recommended daily allowance of fiber–the woman he was trailing launched into a very candid, confessional, and in-depth description of how she should probably consider purchasing that product because her nine year-old has a situation that would benefit from it. “He can’t go,” she stage whispered. Gunc smiled. “That’s a common issue.” The woman widened her eyes. “No. I mean, it’s serious. He. Can’t. Go. We had to take him to a pediatric gastroenterologist. And the doctor had to stick his finger up my son’s butt. My son cried and cried. And I said to the doctor, after he’d finished. I’m so sorry that you had to do that. That must be the worst part of your job. And the doctor looked at me and said. Don’t be sorry. I’m a pediatric gastroenterologist. That is my job. This is what I do all day. This is 95% of the cases I see. And I thought to myself. This guy is sick. So I really should get those Pop Tarts. My son likes Brown Sugar Cinnamon, so I’ll get that flavor.” The Gay Uncle, for one small moment, was rendered speechless, as he watched this mom put the toaster pastries in her cart. But he recovered quickly. “Shall we move on to the refrigerated meats? I’m very interested in hearing how you use those.”