By the Facts:
Piggly Wiggly has over 500 stores serving communities in 18 states for over 100 years (source: pigglywiggly.com)
Brand Manager salaries average $91,712 per year according to Indeed.com
Brand Manager salaries for women average $105,202 and for men $106,595 (source: Builtin.com)
Brand Managers have a 39% chance or "low risk" for AI taking their jobs (Source: “Will Robots Take My Job” website referring to “Marketing Managers”)
Piggly Wiggly #619 is located in Buttermilk Springs, a downscale suburb only a stone’s throw from the local airport’s runway 18R/36L.
The Players Ball
Gabriel Ramirez adjusted his left AirPods Pro as he angled a shopping cart past aisle twelve toward breakfast aisle nineteen. Gabriel transported a coveted corrugated “Yukon Players Pancake mix” case within the cart, giving off a mysterious glow. The sweet aroma wafting from the box turned heads, but Gabriel was too engrossed in the Nutrition Diva’s podcast about protein replacement to notice. He'd been attending the annual Yukon Players Pancakes “Player's Ball” fitness fair since he was a Brand Assistant, and this post-fair Piggly Wiggly visit had become his ritual as it had been his “baby” since inception. In his otherwise desk jockey-esque spreadsheet-dominated digital existence, it was a rare field trip.
His phone pinged with a text from his manager: "Did Grace approve the test yet? The leadership team wants numbers by Monday. And why aren't you answering my Slack messages?"
Gabriel took in a deep breath and tapped the dictation button on his iPhone while navigating the cart: "I'm on it. On to see her now. Got the special batch.” He sighed to himself, “And Slack doesn't work well in actual stores, imagine that.”
The Death Knell
Meanwhile, six aisles away, Ryan Billingfield, still in his slightly wrinkled from a red-eye flight Banana Republic “wrinkle-free” brand manager’s uniform, was frantically rearranging boxes on the pancake mix shelf. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he mumbled to himself. He'd told his team he had a "market immersion sesh" scheduled, which sounded better than admitting this was his first store visit in eight months.
"End cap only? That's a promotional death knell in this demographic," he grumbled, shoving aside boxes to make room for his armful of multiple flavors of Nana Belle's Patty Cakes. "Tooty Fruity and Dubai Choconut deserve eye-level placement, at minimum. No wonder our Peach Cobbler numbers are down—none of these placements match the planogram our sales team aligned on!"
Quietly entering the aisle behind Ryan, Imani Baldwin stood gripping a Starbucks Caramel Frappuccino, watching with increasing irritation as Ryan encroached on her brand's precious shelf territory. She'd only stopped by because her flight was delayed and her regional sales director had been begging her for months to see "the real-world first moment of truth execution issues" firsthand.
"Excuse me," she said sharply, causing Ryan to bump his head on the second shelf. "What do you think you're doing with those Griswold's boxes on the floor and the shelf space?"
Ryan spun and rose to Imani at eye level, nearly dropping his boxes of Peach Cobbler Da Bomb Patty Cakes. "I'm growing the category," he said, attempting to sound professional while wondering if he should have worn a disguise. Brand managers weren't supposed to do this kind of thing, as that's what the sales team was for.
Imani raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Pleased to meet you, “growing the category” guy, I’m Imani, Griswold Pancakes Brand Manager, and you're 'growing' by removing my product? Griswold's has dominated this category since before your grandma's grandma was making cornbread skillet cakes over an open fire."
"Market dominance doesn't equal consumer preference," Ryan retorted. "Our heritage southern flavor profiles are bringing millennials back to the breakfast table. At least, that's what our social listening tools indicate. Although, admittedly, I haven't actually talked to a real millennial consumer since 2022. By the way, I am Ryan Billingfield, Griswold’s Pancake Mix Brand Manager."
"Is that what your focus groups told you, Ryan Billingsfield?" Imani smirked. "Because our sales data says…"
THUMP!
Gabriel's cart turned the corner into aisle nineteen and bumped squarely into Imani's backside, causing her to lurch forward and let out an “ouch!!”. Her Frappuccino slipped her hand and went airborne, executing a perfect arc before landing with a splatter on Ryan's light blue button-down.
"My shirt!" Ryan yelped.
"My Frappe!" Imani cried simultaneously.
Gabriel, finally registering what happened, yanked his AirPods out. "Oh snap! I'm so sorry, I was just…"
"Just not paying attention," Imani chimed, watching the last drops of her $7.45 Frappuccino seep into Ryan's shirt. "Do you know how far the nearest Starbucks is? Uber doesn't even recognize this zip code."
Ryan dabbed at his shirt with a pocket handkerchief. "This is wrinkle-free Italian cotton! And I have a meeting with our Sales VP tomorrow morning!"
Imani observed with suspicious eyes, “So you’re planning to wear the same shirt tomorrow without washing it?”
Ryan replied, “Nothing that a little Tide Stain-Remover and Febreze won’t fix
Gabriel looked from one angry face to the other. "Look, I said I was sorry. It was an accident."
"An accident that wouldn't have happened if you weren't trying to multitask," Imani pointed out, looking at Gabriel gathering up his phone and earbuds.
"An accident that wouldn't have happened if he wasn't cutting into my shelf space," Gabriel countered, gesturing toward Ryan, who was still futilely blotting his shirt.
Ryan's head went on swivel. "Your shelf space? That's a little thick coming from the protein pancake people. You barely qualify as a pancake! More like a health supplement in flat form."
"At least we're addressing actual consumer needs," Gabriel shot back. "Not everyone wants sugar bombs disguised as breakfast."
"Says the brand with barely 8% market share," Imani interjected.
"Growing at 23% year over year," Gabriel retorted.
"In a niche segment!"
"The future of the category!"
"People, please." Ryan stepped between them, coffee still dripping from his shirt. "We're all professionals here. Though some of us," he glanced at Imani, "are clinging to old school formulations while others," he glared at Gabriel, "are selling glorified protein bars in pancake clothing."
A tense silence fell over the aisle, broken only by the overhead announcement: "Price check on register four. Price check on register four."
Imani glanced around at the real shoppers staring at them as they carefully navigated their carts around the spill, the actual consumers they supposedly understood through digital dashboard analytics, but rarely encountered in person.
"You know," she said quietly, "my CMO gave a whole speech last month about getting out of our 'digital bubbles' and experiencing the brand on the retail frontier. Said if we spent as much time in stores as we do in meetings about stores, we'd double our growth rate."
Ryan snorted. "My boss says the same thing every quarter. And every quarter I promise I'll do store visits. Then the email avalanche hits, and suddenly it's the next quarter."
"At least you guys have that excuse," Gabriel said. "At Yukon Players, we have a 'shadow a sales rep' day scheduled twice a year. Like clockwork, most of the marketing team comes up with business-critical excuses on those days."
The three exchanged knowing looks. Competitors, yes, but sharing the same reality.
Imani was the first to notice the mysterious glow coming from the case in Gabriel's cart. The glow emanating from it had intensified, casting an almost ethereal light across the shelves.
"What’s in the box?" she asked, her tone shifting from anger to curiosity.
Ryan turned to look. "Yeah, what's with the supernatural protein pancake vibes?"
Gabriel instinctively moved to stand between them and his precious cargo. "That's proprietary. If I told ya, I would have to kill ya"
"Proprietary and apparently radioactive," Ryan quipped, leaning closer to catch a whiff. "Though it smells surprisingly good."
"Is that sourdough?" Imani asked, inching closer herself. "With notes of, uh, butter and maple?"
Gabriel couldn't hide his pride. "Yukon Gold Sourdough. It's our best-selling mix, but this," he patted the case, "this is a special batch. We've been working on the formula for months."
"And you brought it to the 'Hogly Wogly?' Ryan asked incredulously. "No offense, but wouldn't Whole Foods be more your jam?"
"I know the department manager," Gabriel admitted. "Grace has been letting me run small market tests here for years. Real consumers, real data, no corporate intervention. The kind of insights you can't get from a Zoom focus group or Pollfish survey."
Imani's eyes widened, and her eyebrows went to the moon. "You're getting unauthorized shelf placement?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I wouldn't call it unauthorized. More like grassroots marketing. Besides, the qualitative metrics we collect from watching actual people interact with our product blow away anything our digital analytics team produces. My CMO doesn't know the details of how I do this, but she loves the insights."
Ryan looked impressed despite himself. "Clever. My team has a $200,000 eye-tracking study budget, but here you are just watching people shop. Like old school marketers used to do."
"So what's so special about this batch?" Imani asked, eyeing the glowing case.
Gabriel hesitated, then grinned mischievously. "I could tell you..." He slowly began to rip off the tape on the case, and the glow intensified, along with the mouthwatering aroma. "But then..."
The case opened just enough for a sliver of golden light to escape, and both Imani and Ryan leaned forward instinctively.
The store’s music soundtrack screeched to a pause…
"AHEM."
All three brand managers froze at the sound of a throat clearing behind them. They turned to see a stern-faced man in a Piggly Wiggly manager's red polo shirt and khaki pants, gripping a mop and bucket.
"Can I help you? We had a call about a spill on Aisle nineteen, and my cleaning person is gathering carts in the parking lot," he said flatly, eyeing the coffee dripping from Ryan's shirt to the floor. Then his gaze shifted to the rearranged shelves. "Wait! What happened to my shelf?"
"I can explain," Gabriel started. "Grace Kim said…"
"Grace is on vacation this week," the manager cut in. "And it's 4:15 PM. Store policy clearly states no salespeople on the floor after 4 PM."
"We're not salespeople," all three brand managers protested in unison. "We're brand managers!"
The manager looked unimpressed. "Brand managers? In an actual store? Don’t see that often." He shook his head. "Whatever you call yourselves. Ok, out, now. Before I call your corporate offices. All three of them."
Ten minutes later, the trio stood outside the store, watching the afternoon sun reluctantly giving way to dusk. Gabriel hugged his still-closed case, Ryan's shirt was beginning to dry in unfortunate brown patterns, and Imani was suffering from a severe case of head spasm caffeine withdrawal.
"Well," Ryan said finally. "That was a bust."
"Complete waste of time," Imani agreed. "And now I have to explain to my team why I don't have photos of our new packaging on the shelf."
"I didn't even get to show Grace the new product," Gabriel sighed. "So much for my quarterly 'boots on the ground' intelligence."
A moment of silence passed as they contemplated their shared misfortune.
"You know," Ryan said slowly, "there's a Chili's across the street. Happy Hour started fifteen minutes ago. What are the chances of three competitive brand managers running into each other at a Piggly Wiggly? We can all take credit for a 'competitive intelligence gathering session' in our weekly reports, and let's all agree to not talk any more shop."
Imani shrugged and checked her iPhone. "My flight's now delayed until 8. And I haven't written anything in my store visit tracker since February."
Gabriel patted his case. "This batch needs to go back to my trunk. Besides, I think I need a drink after that adventure."
Another moment passed.
"First round's on me," Gabriel offered. "Least I can do for the shirt incident."
"I'll get the second," Ryan said. "For rearranging your shelf space."
Imani smiled slightly. "And I'll get the third. For the sake of sanity and that we are all still gainfully employed in the era of AI."
As they walked toward Chili's, Ryan chuckled. "You know, we spend so much time fighting over shelf space from behind our desks, we forget what the shelf actually looks like."
"Or what real people shopping for pancakes look like," Imani added. "My AI analytics dashboard doesn't show the grandmother who picked up our box, checked the ingredients, and put it back because the font was too small."
"Yes, let’s agree to not tell anyone about this," Gabriel added.
"Agreed, it's our secret. Scouts honor," Ryan pondered. "My boss would not approve."
"Yeah, I will raise a glass to all of us getting out of that pinch," Imani nodded forcefully. "But tomorrow, you two and your brands are getting crushed again."
Gabriel sighed, “Back to the grind. That’s fair competition is competition and you all are still my competitors!”
Ryan quipped, “My old man was a CPG sales guy, and based on what he talked about back in the day, we would be fighting in the parking lot by now. Agreed. We are competitors, but tonight I’ll raise a glass instead!”
As the trio approached, the Chili's hosts swung the door open to welcome them.
So what happens when three competing brand managers walk into a bar after being kicked out of a Piggly Wiggly? They discover that despite their differences, they are not saving babies and they're all just trying to make breakfast a little better, one pancake at a time. And perhaps more importantly, they remember why getting out from behind their desks and into the messy, real world of retail matters more than any AI dashboard or Zoom meeting ever could.
And maybe, just maybe, Gabriel lets them peek inside that glowing box after a margarita or two.