Some years ago—never mind how long, precisely—while working for a lab in the small city of New Hartford in central New York, it happened that I was dispatched to our location in Herkimer, also known as “the Valley”, there to do some IT stuff. In those dark times, New Hartford had no Wal-Mart Super Center, but the Valley did; and so when my friend in the IT Department heard I was going to the Valley, he entreated me to pick him up a bag of “Wal-Mart Chicken” for lunch. Being the accommodating type, I readily assented; and so I did go down into the Valley, and I did do the IT stuff, and then I did head off to the Wal-Mart Super Center to get the Wal-Mart Chicken. Not being a regular Wal-Mart shopper, I did not know where to find said chicken. All this time later, I can’t recall exactly how it happened—bad advice from a store employee? Random wandering?—but I ended up in the frozen foods section, where, lo! There were bags of frozen chicken bearing the Wal-Mart name. And so I bought a bag of the frozen chicken and returned to New Hartford in triumph. Or did I? For as I entered the IT Department with the bag from Wal-Mart, my friend did make note: