I Wouldn't Burn a Two-Year Relationship Over $5.49… But Apparently, Publix Might
A tale of lactose-free milk, corporate policy, and the silent death of relationship capital.
You ever get humbled by $5.49?
Let me tell you a story.
I'm what marketers call a loyal customer—the kind of person who shops at the same grocery store twice a week, buys the same lactose-free milk (we're not savages), and always smiles at the checkout lane staff like I'm in a mildly charming sitcom.
Sometimes I'm rolling in with just my daughter. Sometimes it's both kids. Today, it was both—fresh from the park, covered in post-slide glory and grass stains. Classic dad move: realize we're out of milk, pivot into a quick Publix run before nap-mageddon hits.
Only one problem. No wallet.
But no big deal, right? I have tap-to-pay on my phone—except I just upgraded to the new Pixel, and forgot to re-enter the security code. So there I am, standing in the checkout line with my kids, my milk, and my internal monologue saying, "Relax. You know these people. You've kept this store in business singlehandedly buying oat-based snacks and overpriced organic apples. They'll help you out."
Narrator: They did not help him out.
Because sometimes $5.49 isn’t just about milk—it’s about whether the relationship was ever real to begin with.
Death by a Thousand Shrugs
The self-checkout attendant hit me with a look I can only describe as "May the odds be ever in your favor" and then proceeded to not engage. When she did, it was to punt me to someone else, who also wanted no part in solving the Great Milk Crisis of 2025.
No one asked, "Hey, you okay?"
No one said, "We've seen you in here a hundred times, don't sweat it."
No one offered a workaround like Venmo, Apple Cash, a post-it note IOU, or even a wink and a nod.
Just blank stares and shrugged shoulders. Like I was trying to walk out with a flat screen and not a single carton of lactose-free dairy substitute.
This Isn't About Milk
I know what you're thinking: It's just $5.49, man. Let it go.
But it's not about the milk. It's about the illusion of relationship.
As a Customer Success leader (and author of NOA—a novel where the AI actually gets this stuff better than most humans do), this stuff lives rent-free in my brain. I don't just see transactions—I see signals. Behavior. Trust. Patterns. Friction. Failures in service design masquerading as “policy.”
And here's what I saw today:
No operational empathy.
No room to improvise.
No memory that I’ve ever mattered here.
Somewhere along the way, companies stopped trusting their people to trust their customers. So even when the humans want to help, the system quietly whispers: “Don’t risk it.”
Publix didn't lose a customer today. Let's be real—I'll be back. The store's close, the layout flows, and the cereal aisle has just enough chaos to keep life spicy. But what they did lose was credibility in the relationship. That tiny sliver of goodwill that's supposed to show up when things go wrong.
What This Teaches Us About Customer Success
Whether you're selling milk or managing enterprise tech, here's the punchline:
Customers don't leave because things go wrong.
They leave because no one tried to make it right.
And when you train your team to default to "not my problem," you're not enforcing policy—you're signaling that trust is a one-way street.
If you're building a success org, think about it this way:
Are your front-line folks empowered to think like humans?
Can they deviate from the script when it serves the relationship?
Do they even know who the regulars are?
Because if your team can't recognize a loyal customer holding a melting toddler and a half gallon of milk… you've already lost the plot.
Customer Success Takeaway
The smallest moments carry the biggest trust signals. Train for policy, empower for humanity.
No, I'm not boycotting Publix. This isn't a manifesto. I just wanted some milk and a tiny bit of dignity.
But next time someone says, “Customer Success isn't measurable,” tell them this:
It’s the invisible currency that buys you forgiveness, flexibility, and future revenue—even when your customer forgets their wallet.
Just don't make them beg for it.
P.S. I might swing by Harris Teeter this weekend. Just to price-check their lactose-free options. No hard feelings, Publix—just competitive research. You understand.
Dave J Brown is a Customer Success leader and the author of NOA—a novel that, unlike most customer experiences, actually sticks the landing.
