The boldest move I’ve made in the name of ALDI was volunteering Chainsaw Chicken — my satirical alter ego — as a free box boy for seniors at checkout. Anyone who shops at ALDI knows the rhythm: the cashier scans with lightning speed while customers scramble to bag their own groceries. Most people see that as pressure. I saw it as a chance to give back.
One afternoon, I stationed myself at the end of a checkout lane with an empty Aldi box and a heroic sense of purpose. The cashier fired items across the counter faster than I could keep up, while Chainsaw Chicken — a man in a yellow latex chicken mask — packed with painstaking care. He was slow, clumsy, but determined. The older customer smiled at the effort, grateful for the help. The cashier, however, looked like she was witnessing a one-man traffic jam.
That scene captures my Aldi loyalty. It isn’t just about bargains or efficiency — it’s about showing up, adding heart, and making the experience unforgettable. I’ve woven ALDI into my creative world, and I’ve lived it in absurd, loyal ways. Aldi isn’t just where I shop. It’s where I belong.