I’m not voting*

The other day I was at Petco buying food for my cat. I go to Petco because I know they stock the food my cat eats. But the truth is… I hate Petco.

In Seattle, the Petco I went to never seemed to have enough cashiers for the number of customers attempting to check out. I mean, this happened every time.

I didn’t like going to Petco, but they had what I needed and it was convenient to my house.

In New York, Petco is worse.

The cashier shortage is a problem here as well, but it’s exacerbated by the fact that the cashiers all seem half-asleep. The Upper East Side Petco’s cashiers are the most sluggish, unmotivated, slothful bunch I’ve ever seen. These traits are so consistent among them you’d think “raised from the dead” was an application requirement.

I might be in the queue with ten other people waiting to pay so we can get on with our days and the cashiers will be taking their sweet time and jawing with each other, showing no sense of urgency about the situation.

I have a Petco frequent shopper card. Or maybe it’s some kind of discount card. It says Petco P.A.L.S. on it, but I have no idea what benefits membership provides. I never get mail from Petco alerting me to the number of P.A.L.S. P.O.I.N.T.S. I might have amassed, if such things even exist. So I have this card, with a membership number that I punch in at every purchase, and yet I have no idea why.

The final straw? It sounds silly, but I hate buying one item and getting a 13-inch receipt for it. What is this thing?! I bought one item! Save a tree!

As I left the store this last time I remembered that dollars are, in a sense, votes. I may hate Petco, but I’ve been voting for Petco for years, repeatedly, simply by continuing to buy things for my cat there.

But no longer.

When I left that day I vowed to find a new provider for my pet needs and to stop voting for Petco.

That’s change I can believe in.


* For Petco.**
** See what I did there?