I was in the produce aisle, feeling up the broccoli to find some that wasn’t too limp, when the storm hit. There was a crack of lightning, loud enough to make me flinch. Then the rumble of rolling thunder. And then a fine spray of rain misted my glasses. Damn, I thought, they really need to build the stores a little stronger if they expect folks to shop in bad weather. Then I realized it was all customer engineering, a little Storm Mountain experience for the produce consumer. Harris Teeter must have spent hundreds—maybe thousands—of man-hours designing and constructing the whole deal. They could have sounded a little bell or something to give folks who didn’t care to get misted a few seconds to take cover. But they’d gone whole hog. Once you knew the deal, the lightning was your warning. And the point of the whole thing was to spray water to keep the produce fresh. And—quite incidentally, of course—to make everything as heavy as possible by the time you’d bagged it up to be weighed on the cashier’s scale.