When one thinks of Whole Foods, one might think of its selection of cheeses and organic yet processed offerings. Perhaps one thinks of the pizza and all-natural deodorants and lotions. Maybe one thinks of the patchouli that struggles to mask the aroma that comes with all-natural deodorants. (If so, you’re out of luck, though parent company Amazon has you covered.)

What you most likely do not think of, though, is jail. This is a mistake for, unlike patchouli, when it comes to being detained, Whole Foods is there for you.

When talking about Walmart or Target, theft is a given. If your local supercenter switches back and forth from self-checkout to human checkers, theft — or shrink, as it’s known in the retail world — is the real reason. It’s just so easy to bag a few items that didn’t get scanned.

Shrink is one of the prices of doing business. Its presence is factored into budgets, both in expected amount and the cost of hiring people to thwart it. General employees are instructed to ignore it thanks to America’s surplus of lawyers. Instead, as is done in Whole Foods, you deploy specialists to combat the problem.

This isn’t new. Back in the mid ‘90s, when I worked at Hastings Books, Music, and Video, which for the younger readers was one of the various places people could go to buy books and music and rent videos before streaming was a thing, we knew our most prolific shoplifters. We could never catch them in the act, though, so they were free to steal with impunity. We didn’t have a Mike, as the Fort Greene Whole Foods does, but we had a Toni. Toni, a former state trooper, never caught them either. It didn’t help that they were certain traveling people who only came through periodically.

There were also teenagers who couldn’t afford the latest from Wu-Tang Clan. They were sporadic and small potatoes, though, unlike those who preferred to steal CDs that they would later sell back to us a few months later when they swung back through the area. Most importantly, all of them knew they were stealing. There was no rationalization.

For those who end up in Whole Foods jail, it’s all rationalization. It’s not that they can’t necessarily afford “Bonestorm,” it’s that, like punching someone in the dark, they view shoplifting as a victimless crime. This isn’t exactly shocking coming from a collective that thinks Bernie Sanders is correct about millionaires — make that billionaires, doesn’t understand that assets aren’t necessarily walking around money, and just really needs a sushi tray before therapy.

The therapist, presumably, does not get stiffed, though this piece in Curbed on Whole Foods jail doesn’t specify. (Journalism is dead.):

For years, she had thought of the California rolls, brownies, and protein shakes she stole as a kind of artist’s subsidy while she got her own practice off the ground. But on this particular day, her luck had run out. Astrid was late for therapy and hadn’t eaten, so she stopped in for a quick lunch. As usual, she began her meal in-store, moving toward the door with confidence, while ripping open a sushi tray. Soy-sauce packet between her teeth, one foot out the door, she felt a hand on her arm.

As with all the people mentioned in the piece, Astrid is a pseudonym. Her story is amazing. California rolls, brownies, and protein shakes are not exactly sustenance foods. She could have stolen bananas, which I am not condoning, even as some extoll the benefits of shoplifting, which are super healthy and also low cost, but no, Astrid had to go elite. This also gets to the other problems with this attitude.

First, shrink is really detrimental to business. In the early days of Walmart, founder Sam Walton gathered a group of store associates around him early one morning. He had a coffee can with $1 in pennies in it. He starts taking pennies out for overhead, utilities, merchandise, payroll, and the other obvious costs of doing business. When he was done with those, only four pennies remained. He then took two of those, explaining that those two cents represented shrink, meaning that despite starting with a dollar, profits only equaled two cents.

Walmart famously operates on razor-thin profit margins, usually in the 2-3% range, though. What about Whole Foods? Surely hippie Walmart is pulling Apple-esque numbers, right? Wrong! Whole Foods is operating on … razor-thin profit margins comparable to Walmart. Stealing eye cream, sushi trays, tuna rolls, soft French cheeses, steaks, and the like means the company has to pass its increased costs onto paying customers. In other words, if you see something, say something.

The other, and to my mind larger, problem with hipster heists is there is a much better solution, especially for those who are presumably concerned about food waste, climate change, and inequality: dumpster diving.

And look, I get it, dumpster diving isn’t as sexy as committing crime, but it is victimless. You don’t even have to call it dumpster diving. Just become a freegan and really lean into “strategies for sustainable living beyond capitalism.” Commit, people! It may even provide your life with enough meaning to get you out of therapy.

Will you have to learn to live with bread that’s maybe a little stale, not that I’ve ever had a prototypical freegan give me such a loaf, or strawberries that are a little mushy. Toast the bread. Enjoy fruit when it’s at its sweetest. Wonder why you didn’t go dumpster diving with and learn from your anti-capitalist acquaintance who’s now building a private for-profit space station.

You can start tonight. And it won’t even require you to give up Whole Foods, though I’d steer clear of the sushi if I were you. The cover of darkness may be required to become a successful freegan, but if you fly too close to the sashimi, you’re going to feel that punch to your stomach.

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Rich Cromwell is a writer living in Northwest Arkansas. He produces the Cookin’ Up a Story podcast. You can also follow him on X: @rcromwell4

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.

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Whole Foods Has Its Own ‘Jail’ For Shoplifters — Just Ask The Sushi Thief