"Holy shit, it's a grasshopper!" the produce guy shouted as we showed him a massive insect perched upon Hannaford's green beans. "He's just chillin'," he noted. "You'd be surprised what the shipment brings in sometimes."Random creepy crawlies aside, Waltham's sparkling new supermarket has so far won the approval of BranVan-confined shoppers. Although most people I know seem bent on calling the store "Victory" until they graduate, no one minds Hannaford's pleasant prices and snazzy new
signs.

What's less obvious is the savvy Hannaford showed in winning over our neighbors, the residents of Waltham.

At the very heart of Waltham's political culture is an old-fashioned, you-do-me-a-favor-I-do-you-a-favor cronyism. I learned this working as a reporter for the Daily News Tribune this summer. Old men would introduce themselves with, "Hi, my name is Joe DeMarino, I've lived in Waltham all my life, my family has owned the furniture store on Moody for three generations, and I fully supported Jeanette McCarthy's run for mayor." Or, in other words, "I've been here long enough to know the right people, and when I want them to win, they win."

I met at least two self-proclaimed "Mr. Walthams"-men who'd lived in Waltham for half a century, and who clearly had their hands in its most intricate political workings. The city of Waltham is built upon a handful of families who have been here since the Industrial Revolution, and they don't look happily upon incoming corporations taking over their small business.

With the exception, it seems, of Hannaford.

Over the summer I took a call from an old man who, after telling me "I've lived in Waltham all my life and I do a bit of politics here and there," instructed me to call up Hannaford, mention his name, and tell them they should advertise in this paper.

Apparently, he used to work in a lab at Brandeis and he's always liked the school, so he was looking for a way to do us a favor. "So," he reiterated, "you tell them I told you to call, and they'll want to do some advertising with you."

Strangely enough, Hannaford, part of a Belgian company, managed to penetrate the heart of Waltham.

How it managed this I cannot surmise, but students who were in town during the summer will have noticed that Hannaford took over Victory, at least physically, with surprising deftness. It started with the bags. They were the same color as before, but they suddenly sported Hannaford's cheery logo. Next, Hannaford dispersed a few discounted items throughout the store, and then they put up some new shelves-daily, something small would change, but not to the extent that it would alienate Victory's loyal customer base.

Hannaford's decision to work sensitively with the foundations of the town, tactfully winning the approval of its customers, is an unusual business model for such a vast multinational corporation.

But, by all accounts, it worked. Mayor Jeanette McCarthy's certificate of support is displayed proudly in the front of the store, the supermarket seems busier than ever, and its better quality of food leaves little to complain about. Except for the occasional grasshopper, that is.