Mowing in the Target Trough
“Valentine’s Day is coming!,” La Gringa said yesterday. “Shut the hell up”, I thought, as we were herded toward the Christmas blowout sale aisle with another three dozen bargain shoppers. If the post-holiday season wasn’t depressing enough, try perusing through the 75% off racks at Target with once-carefully thought-out gift options, now chucked on the ground, grinding under my shopping cart. The Target message was clear: the holidays are over sucker, move on the Valentine’s Day! MLK Day Commemorative Plates! SuperBowl Sunday Chip’n'Dip Bowls!
It suddenly hit me: Target is ruling my spending, my holidays and my calendar.
Now, like all good neighborhood residents, I try hard to shop locally, but Target is Target and we all eat from the same trough of discount deals, readily available everythings and decent selections. If you’ve got a lunch break, you go to Target, if you’ve got a bunch of errands, you go to Target, if you need uniforms, kids underwear, bananas, a birthday card and a new scale all at once, you go to Target (For the record, you don’t ever buy your wife a new wardrobe at Target for her birthday, trust me.). The problem is, Target is leading loyal customers into truly believing that it’s the benchmark for all things commerce. That’s where I draw the line.
There things to be mindful of when shopping at Target as a regular source of purchasing:
1. Emotion Marketing. Because Target says it’s time to start buying Easter baskets in February, doesn’t mean you should. Or that it should be on your mind, or in your current budget. It’s hard to resist, right? This year I saw Back to School clothes for sale at Target in June. By August when I went to buy the uniforms, they were sold out. You’re kidding me, right? I used to get my school uniforms the weekend before school started and supplies, the day after school started. Target has me thinking about — and buying — items on their marketing schedule, not mine.
2. Selection and Variety. We need a new scale. Target has four kinds of scales. Good variety, right? If Target doesn’t have it, then it doesn’t exist, or costs too much or is too much of a pain to get in the car and go across town to the shop that specializes in such things. There are four types to choose from, just pick one, right? The same goes for toys, kids clothes and seasonal tsotchke. I couldn’t find a silver cardigan for my daughter at Target, so I just didn’t buy it. The developmental kids toys are the same everywhere and I should just pick one of them in the “developmental” toys aisle at Target — well, at least that’s my thinking. Yesterday I staged a rebellion: I’m going to (a) research scales (b) determine what kinds of features I want (c) read the reviews. Then, I’ll go to Target and if they have it, great, I’ll stick it in my cart next to the deodorant and Intro to Yoga DVD, but if they don’t, I won’t be a slave to the Target machine, I will buy the scale I want to buy. Maybe. That is, er, f I have time and I don’t have to stop by Target anyway on my way to pick up my kid from ballet.
3. Setting the bar. I am often reminded when I question authority, process and procedures that most things are geared toward marketing toward, or communicating with, the lowest common denominator. Everything from public school to airport security screenings are designed for Bozo the Clown, so it’s no surprise that even my son calls out the low bar of marketing messaging. “What does ‘MORE SWEAT FOR LESS’ mean, Mommy?,” my 7-year-old asks. “It means you can pay less money for sweat pants,” I replied. “Why do I want to sweat more for less?” he answered. Indeed son, why? For the love of all that is good: My kid is calling out the low level communication strategies. But you know what I did, huh? Huh? I turned around to see if they had the same sale for women’s sweat pants.
And so it goes. I love me my “Tar-jay” I know that I’m part of a marketing machine and I expect the bar to be set low. I’m never disappointed nor impressed. I won’t be deterred from the big red circle and cheap popcorn at the front door. I won’t either be impressed by quality, selection or price. But here’s the kicker, see… I don’t have to like it, but it’s hard not to.
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100 Mile Diet: An Unsurmountable Challenge?
I quit chicken about two months ago. In some ways it’s completely freeing, in others, a pain-in-the-butt. There are days I cook with chicken stock, take sips from my kids’ Chicken Tortilla Soup knowing full well there are a couple of dead birds that went into making that bowl of yumminess. As I get older, I’ve come to understand how important food is to how I feel. Eat crap at the holidays? Feel like crap in January.
I’d heard of the 100-mile diet a few times before. It’s not a “diet” per se, it’s more like a lifestyle choice. In our daily lives, we eat “fresh” food that travels over 1500 miles before it gets on our plate. That’s a bumpy road to the table. Now, I’ve tried the vegetable and fruit delivery from local growers and I love it. There is absolutely no denying that the food looks and tastes so much better. But I’ve always found problems with the foods that show up in my box that we don’t eat at home. A few pounds of rutabaga just can’t be used in this house, even if I cooked with it every day for a week.
Then there is the issue of proteins. We live about 30 miles from the beach — there are plenty of fresh fish to eat and even more shellfish. Is it the best I’ve eaten? Not so much. And how about the turkey, beef and pork? My in-laws live near the famed Harris Ranch and that is a lot more than 100 miles from here. Cheeses are easier. There are some good dairy options that are very local to the Bay Area. If we could just live on wine alone, I could sustain myself in 20 miles (I think that’s how far away Ridge Winery is). Since I can’t live on hooch alone, I’m faced with the issue: Can I sustain our family’s diet on 100-mile radius of available foods?
100 Mile Diet
According to the 100-Mile-Diet website, I can shop as far south as Salinas, maybe stretching to Fresno, and get a bunch of local goodness from Watsonville, Hollister and Gilroy. I can get food from as far north as Sacramento (they have food in Sacramento?) and up to Santa Rosa. Now, can I do it?
The answer is, probably. The truth is, I probably won’t.
The Localvores movement has hit San Francisco, and smartly, they choose the month of September to take their 100-mile challenge. Perfect weather for fresh fruits, vegetables of both summer and fall seasons. I’m guessing the second week of January isn’t the right time of year to start the challenge. The Eat Local challenge folks keep a great blog with resources, recipes ideas and hurdles in eating within a 100-mile radius. There is also a site that made me really think seriously about this project. The Eat Wild folks do an amazing job at scoping out farms and ranches that are within the 100-mile range. They also give you resources beyond direct-to-consumer, they give you restaurants, grocery and markets that can help with the challenge. Little excuse left, I suppose.
If I were to take on the challenge, I’d have to make sure that I could provide my family with everything they are used to eating — eggs, milk, cheese, a good burger. I’d need to scope out restaurants that served locally grown fare since there is no way I’m cooking at home every day. I’d go stir-crazy. I’d want to know what grocery stores can make my life easier. Does WholeFoods do a 100-mile line of products? I’d want sneaky resources at my fingertips so I could wiggle my way through holidays and birthdays. And, I’d need to know that I can cheat and take my kids to the McDonald’s drive-thru on a whim.
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Side Gigs
