Clickbait news strikes again: On Jan. 12, Neal Taparia, millionaire co-founder of EasyBib, released a blog post condemning one of Pittsburgh’s fine grocery establishments as the worst in the country. As a North Sider and card-carrying member of Giant Eagle’s Advantage program, when I heard the news, my face got red, and I got to typing.
The intentions and integrity of Taparia’s article are questionable. It's the only post on a site that's otherwise dedicated to online card gaming. Within a month, the post was picked up by Townsquare Media, a company which owns 354 radio stations and over 400 websites. At the time of writing, Townsquare has repackaged this dubious article on KPEL 96.5, ESPN 97.3, KBEA-FM, WKDQ 99.5, PST 94.5, The Point 99.9, NJ 101.5. These are Top 40 hit stations distributed across the country. Each day, more Townsquare stations are publishing essentially the same lackluster “news.”
The article, and the public appetite for it, is emblematic of the way modern humans consume information. If you want clicks, engagement, and, ultimately, that sweet, sweet ad revenue, you’re going to need to bend the truth. Out of 63,000+ grocery stores in the US, the web king of Solitaire scraped Google Maps reviews from 3,000 stores. Taparia took the first 30 search results from 100 US cities, noted the star ranking and number of reviewers, and filtered out any stores with fewer than 1,000 reviews each.
This sounds pretty legit, but quantitative data is useful only if you can meaningfully interpret the measurements.
Locations were picked based on the first 30 search results in each city. That list comes from Google, which designs its products to provide users the most relevant information. By doing this, Taparia introduced a bias towards popularity. The data is biased further by the fact that he eliminated stores with fewer than 1,000 reviews. The worst grocery store in the country isn’t going to make the results list of the first 30 stores and it isn’t going to have 1,000 reviews. This means what Taparia actually measured was the worst ranked store out of high traffic stores as reported by Google Maps reviewers.
Looking at a small number of high traffic grocery stores is not a representative sample, but it still means something. To me, this statistic says more about the class tension among communities at odds than it does about the store itself.
My default store, the North Side Giant Eagle or the "Dirty Bird" on Cedar Ave., is a unique store. It serves a diverse population and has no local competition. Downtown, Allegheny General Hospital staff and visitors, Deutschtown, the Mexican War Streets, and the stadiums on game days all rely on this store.
Here’s my completely unsubstantiated claim (every good opinion article needs one): this is one of the most diverse and highest-traffic grocery stores in the region, and it appears on Taparia’s list because of gentrification and good old-fashioned racism. That, and Pittsburghers love to complain.
The strife between the disparate populations in this area of the city is not news. Just up the street, the Allegheny Center Alliance Church raised $200,000 and used the money to buy and shut down Rebels, a “nuisance bar” in the area. Several shootings have occurred in recent years only blocks away from the fancy new restaurants popping up on East Ohio Street (which all have glowing reviews, I might add).
One of the closest neighbors to the Dirty Bird is the Pressley St. High Rise. Pressley St. is dedicated housing for seniors and people with disabilities. The Allegheny Commons apartments are just across the street, with a reputation for drug activity and police presence. Meanwhile, blocks away, a two-bedroom house is listed on Zillow for half a million dollars. It begs the question: who are the people complaining about this Giant Eagle being “dirty and unsafe?”
Rather than qualities like cleanliness, prices, average time waiting in line, this is what Google reviews measure: middle class unease.
For the privileged among us, North Side’s Dirty Bird is an inconvenience, a blemish in a neighborhood on the rise. But for many, this store is a third space, possibly one of the only places they go outside of work or home. Familial greetings happen at the entrance every single day, and I dodge them with a glare in my haste to get Brussels sprouts.
It’s a regular Tuesday afternoon, and the line for checkout is backed up into the aisle again. I honestly can’t tell you the last time I saw it any shorter. A couple kids are arguing over their choice of snack. (“You hear me? I said one snack only.”) A suit checks his daily steps. An intoxicated man argues with an employee over the total due. The employee sighs. A nurse cracks open an energy drink in line. I yawn and shift my weight, taking it all in.
This place objectively kind of sucks. But I love it. The North Side’s Dirty Bird is Pittsburgh’s best worst grocery store, the best worst grocery store in the country, the store we love to hate. For better or worse, it contains all of us.
Of the ways one can divide us, there are many, but we all need to eat.
A love letter to the North Side "Dirty Bird," America's best worst grocery store
