The butcher vehemently denied my long-held belief that Gelson's hires someone to follow me around, write down all my favorite foods, then immediately discontinue them. I think I acted with restraint. I did not rush past the butcher into the back and start throwing open doors to find the butchers' secret stash. I did not grab a cleaver and hold him hostage until Huxtable's delivered the goods. I just smiled and politely thanked him for his help.
Butchers are a cruel and sadistic breed.
So, as I watch my dogs blissfully devouring their Frosty Paws, my empty plate before me, I am not bitter. I am a bigger person than that. However, it just occurred to me that I might fish the box out of the trash and track down these Huxtable people. You might have some issues you need to work on in therapy. And I'm certain you have way too much time on your hands.