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Wegmans Feels Like Family, Even if It Isn’t Mine Wegmans Feels Like Family, Even if It Isn’t Mine
(32 minutes later)
“Are you a Wegman Wegman?”“Are you a Wegman Wegman?”
I have been fielding variants of this question going on four decades, ever since I was a kid growing up outside Boston. No matter the context, I know what it means. Usually it’s accompanied by an expectant glint in the eye, a visible frisson at the possibility the questioner is in the presence of supermarket royalty.I have been fielding variants of this question going on four decades, ever since I was a kid growing up outside Boston. No matter the context, I know what it means. Usually it’s accompanied by an expectant glint in the eye, a visible frisson at the possibility the questioner is in the presence of supermarket royalty.
I am not, alas, a Wegman Wegman. Or, more precisely, the Wegmans of Rochester, N.Y. — who founded of the most beloved grocery chain in America, which opened its first New York City store, and its 101st store over all, in Brooklyn on Sunday — have yet to claim me. As far as I know, I am just a garden-variety Wegman. I am not, alas, a Wegman Wegman. Or, more precisely, the Wegmans of Rochester, N.Y. — who founded the most beloved grocery chain in America, which opened its first New York City store, and its 101st store over all, in Brooklyn on Sunday — have yet to claim me. As far as I know, I am just a garden-variety Wegman.
Still, I don’t turn down the swag. Friends returning from trips to upstate New York used to bring my family cans of Wegmans green peas and boxes of Wegmans pasta, enough that we once dedicated a pantry shelf to unopened Wegmans items. In our downstairs bathroom hung a framed photograph someone sent us of a large sign touting the store’s company values. (“At Wegmans we believe that good people working toward a common goal can accomplish anything they set out to do.”)Still, I don’t turn down the swag. Friends returning from trips to upstate New York used to bring my family cans of Wegmans green peas and boxes of Wegmans pasta, enough that we once dedicated a pantry shelf to unopened Wegmans items. In our downstairs bathroom hung a framed photograph someone sent us of a large sign touting the store’s company values. (“At Wegmans we believe that good people working toward a common goal can accomplish anything they set out to do.”)
And yet before Sunday, I’d barely set foot in an actual Wegmans store. The one time I did, about 20 years ago, I was passing through Buffalo, on my way to watch the Patriots play the Bills. I asked the customer-service desk for an official employee hat, but was politely declined, even after I showed my driver’s license. I told my mother the story, and she decided to call Wegmans headquarters and order one for me. The call was going normally until she provided her name for shipping. The representative’s tone changed instantly. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Wegman — we’ll send you a box of hats if you’d like! No charge, of course.” My mother, it turned out, shared the name of the C.E.O.’s wife. I got my hat.And yet before Sunday, I’d barely set foot in an actual Wegmans store. The one time I did, about 20 years ago, I was passing through Buffalo, on my way to watch the Patriots play the Bills. I asked the customer-service desk for an official employee hat, but was politely declined, even after I showed my driver’s license. I told my mother the story, and she decided to call Wegmans headquarters and order one for me. The call was going normally until she provided her name for shipping. The representative’s tone changed instantly. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Wegman — we’ll send you a box of hats if you’d like! No charge, of course.” My mother, it turned out, shared the name of the C.E.O.’s wife. I got my hat.
These days, the reminders mostly come in the form of misdirected tweets asking me, say, about today’s rotisserie chicken seasonings in Pittsford. So when I heard that Wegmans would be planting its latest megastore about 15 minutes from my home, in Brooklyn’s formerly decrepit but now gentrifying Navy Yard, I knew it was time, at last, for a real face-to-sprawling-produce-section.These days, the reminders mostly come in the form of misdirected tweets asking me, say, about today’s rotisserie chicken seasonings in Pittsford. So when I heard that Wegmans would be planting its latest megastore about 15 minutes from my home, in Brooklyn’s formerly decrepit but now gentrifying Navy Yard, I knew it was time, at last, for a real face-to-sprawling-produce-section.
The grand opening was at 7 a.m. Sunday — the clearest indication of all that I am not related to these people. I dragged myself out of bed and hailed a cab in the predawn rain and wind. The neighborhood surrounding the Navy Yard is, to put it mildly, not Midtown Manhattan — few other businesses and no subway lines to be found, although a positively suburban number of parking spaces are. Local residents, many of whom live in surrounding housing projects, have long had a dearth of quality grocery options.The grand opening was at 7 a.m. Sunday — the clearest indication of all that I am not related to these people. I dragged myself out of bed and hailed a cab in the predawn rain and wind. The neighborhood surrounding the Navy Yard is, to put it mildly, not Midtown Manhattan — few other businesses and no subway lines to be found, although a positively suburban number of parking spaces are. Local residents, many of whom live in surrounding housing projects, have long had a dearth of quality grocery options.
By the time I arrived, the line was rock-concert long, hundreds of true believers wrapped around the block, a tangle of umbrellas unspooling down a remote stretch of Flushing Avenue. That was odd. The odder part was that everyone seemed to be happy. At 7 a.m. on a Sunday.By the time I arrived, the line was rock-concert long, hundreds of true believers wrapped around the block, a tangle of umbrellas unspooling down a remote stretch of Flushing Avenue. That was odd. The odder part was that everyone seemed to be happy. At 7 a.m. on a Sunday.
As the doors opened and we were swept inside, the aisles immediately filled with shoppers. It felt like the day before Thanksgiving. There were parents with small children, elderly people on motorized scooters, couples FaceTiming with faraway friends, showing off the perfectly aligned rows of bok choy behind them. Many had driven six hours from Rochester or Syracuse just for this moment. There were Wegmans hats, Wegmans tattoos, homemade T-shirts emblazoned with “Wegmans’ Warrior” or “Wegmaniac.”As the doors opened and we were swept inside, the aisles immediately filled with shoppers. It felt like the day before Thanksgiving. There were parents with small children, elderly people on motorized scooters, couples FaceTiming with faraway friends, showing off the perfectly aligned rows of bok choy behind them. Many had driven six hours from Rochester or Syracuse just for this moment. There were Wegmans hats, Wegmans tattoos, homemade T-shirts emblazoned with “Wegmans’ Warrior” or “Wegmaniac.”
In a soaring, 74,000-square-foot hall, it was impossible to stand anywhere without being in someone’s way. That is a familiar New York feeling. What is not a familiar New York feeling is being smiled at by the people you bump into. Instead of being huffed at or passive-aggressively rammed with a shopping cart, I kept hearing, “after you,” or “pardon me,” or even “Good morning!” It was disconcerting — like being in a Home Depot, but jam-packed with fresh food and friendly people.In a soaring, 74,000-square-foot hall, it was impossible to stand anywhere without being in someone’s way. That is a familiar New York feeling. What is not a familiar New York feeling is being smiled at by the people you bump into. Instead of being huffed at or passive-aggressively rammed with a shopping cart, I kept hearing, “after you,” or “pardon me,” or even “Good morning!” It was disconcerting — like being in a Home Depot, but jam-packed with fresh food and friendly people.
I had heard about the emotional connection people have to Wegmans, but I had never seen it up close. I can report that it is a real thing. “Oh my God, grew up in Syracuse, a Wegmans addict,” were the first words out of Lynn Schmidt’s mouth, as though she was too excited to speak in complete sentences. Today Ms. Schmidt lives in New York City. “But every time we go back to Syracuse, it’s all about Wegmans,” she said. “No one compares. We’ve been waiting for decades in New York to have a Wegmans.”I had heard about the emotional connection people have to Wegmans, but I had never seen it up close. I can report that it is a real thing. “Oh my God, grew up in Syracuse, a Wegmans addict,” were the first words out of Lynn Schmidt’s mouth, as though she was too excited to speak in complete sentences. Today Ms. Schmidt lives in New York City. “But every time we go back to Syracuse, it’s all about Wegmans,” she said. “No one compares. We’ve been waiting for decades in New York to have a Wegmans.”
In the face of enthusiasm like this, the skeptical reporter in me is on high alert. But I will admit that the sheer size and positive energy inside the store was impressive, as were its alarmingly wide aisles. And it’s one of the company’s smaller operations.In the face of enthusiasm like this, the skeptical reporter in me is on high alert. But I will admit that the sheer size and positive energy inside the store was impressive, as were its alarmingly wide aisles. And it’s one of the company’s smaller operations.
So what explains this level of passion for a grocery store? Some of it is the natural loyalty that attaches to a family-owned business, which Wegmans has been for more than a century. Some of it is the fact that Wegmans predated the current trend of massive, well-stocked, high-quality supermarkets. But what struck me most in the end was not the range or quality of the food options — after all, I can find the same at Whole Foods or other similar modern emporiums, albeit for more money. It was the sense of community, of shopping for food as reaffirmation of a shared civic life in which everyone looks out for one another. This sense seems to exist between the owners and the staff (Wegmans consistently ranks as one of the best workplaces in the country), and between the staff and customers. One woman told me that shopping at Wegmans reminded her of the way a line of cars pulls to the side of the road to let the ambulance go by.So what explains this level of passion for a grocery store? Some of it is the natural loyalty that attaches to a family-owned business, which Wegmans has been for more than a century. Some of it is the fact that Wegmans predated the current trend of massive, well-stocked, high-quality supermarkets. But what struck me most in the end was not the range or quality of the food options — after all, I can find the same at Whole Foods or other similar modern emporiums, albeit for more money. It was the sense of community, of shopping for food as reaffirmation of a shared civic life in which everyone looks out for one another. This sense seems to exist between the owners and the staff (Wegmans consistently ranks as one of the best workplaces in the country), and between the staff and customers. One woman told me that shopping at Wegmans reminded her of the way a line of cars pulls to the side of the road to let the ambulance go by.
In this communal aspect as well as in its size, Wegmans felt a bit like the Grand Central Terminal of grocery stores, a huge yet welcoming space that people have an almost daily need to visit, and where everyone is on equal footing, at least for that moment.In this communal aspect as well as in its size, Wegmans felt a bit like the Grand Central Terminal of grocery stores, a huge yet welcoming space that people have an almost daily need to visit, and where everyone is on equal footing, at least for that moment.
Except it’s not central at all, which may be the best thing about it. And more than one-third of the store’s 540 employees were recruited from the surrounding neighborhood, where good jobs can be very hard to find.Except it’s not central at all, which may be the best thing about it. And more than one-third of the store’s 540 employees were recruited from the surrounding neighborhood, where good jobs can be very hard to find.
Denise Green grew up in Brooklyn and lives across the street from the Navy Yard. When I asked her why she was there, she said, “Because they just opened!” Like me, she’d never shopped in a Wegmans before. But her cart was already filled with food. “There’s no good supermarkets in the area. There’s one — the food is rotten, it stinks, and they keep repackaging it and putting it out. So when you see something like this, you run for it.”Denise Green grew up in Brooklyn and lives across the street from the Navy Yard. When I asked her why she was there, she said, “Because they just opened!” Like me, she’d never shopped in a Wegmans before. But her cart was already filled with food. “There’s no good supermarkets in the area. There’s one — the food is rotten, it stinks, and they keep repackaging it and putting it out. So when you see something like this, you run for it.”
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