I used to call the back room “the Bermuda Triangle.” Things went in, but half the time they never came out.
We ran a high-volume, medium-size grocery store in a suburban area with a loyal base of shoppers. Our biggest challenge wasn’t attracting customers—it was keeping the shelves stocked with what they wanted, when they wanted it. Milk would run out mid-morning. Canned goods sat untouched for weeks. Bananas turned before we even adjusted our reorder threshold. The rhythm of our store was completely off.
When I took over from my dad, I thought I’d modernize everything. I installed a cloud-based POS. Upgraded the security cameras. Hired a younger floor manager. But none of it addressed our biggest pain point: inventory.
The problem wasn’t just accuracy. It was flow. We were constantly correcting after the fact. Our dairy guy would do a late-night walk just to see what was empty and then try to get ahead of it for the next day. We’d mark things down too late, order too much of what didn’t move, and forget about the staples that did.
We did have inventory counts—once a year. We’d close the store early, bring in temps, and spend two miserable nights freezing in produce and sweating in dry goods. And then what? We’d get a giant spreadsheet that no one had time to read, let alone act on.
We were stuck. Until I met someone in a regional grocery association who asked me a simple question:
“Have you ever considered full-service inventory counting?”
I hadn’t. I thought that was something for big box stores or national chains. But they said, “No. You’re exactly the kind of store that benefits.” They connected me to a team that did more than count—they evaluated our store layout, sales velocity, and seasonal shifts. Then they proposed a cadence that fit our operation.
When they showed up, they didn’t just bring clipboards. They brought handheld RFID wands and a calm, precise team that treated every SKU like it mattered. By the time they got to our condiments aisle, I could feel a shift. These people weren’t just counting—they were seeing our store in a way we hadn’t.
We found out we had $3,200 in expired product on the top shelf of aisle 7. We discovered that our supposed “bestseller” pasta brand hadn’t moved in months—because a case had been shoved behind the paper towels. And our big display of BBQ sauce? Over-ordered, underpriced, and half the bottles leaking.
They broke our store into logical categories and suggested we rotate counts every two weeks—what they called category counting. Instead of doing everything at once, we’d focus on one section at a time and keep inventory continuously updated. That single change gave us control again.
We started with dairy, then frozen, then canned. Each week, we’d get clean data and simple visuals. Our night manager could adjust restock lists before the truck even pulled in. Our produce guy stopped playing “guess the apple box” and started managing shrink with real info.
And it wasn’t just operations. The team felt the difference. We weren’t running around like we were behind schedule every day. We weren’t scrambling to fill holes with whatever we had in the back. We were planning ahead. Forecasting. Making smarter decisions.
The savings showed up fast. Waste dropped by 19% in the first two months. Our on-shelf availability improved so much that a customer actually complimented us. “You’ve got everything in stock lately,” she said, holding up a box of her son’s favorite cereal.
I didn’t realize how much stress I was carrying until it lifted. I used to walk the store with a sinking feeling, always wondering what fire I’d be putting out next. Now I walk with purpose. I know our numbers. I trust our process. I can focus on growth—seasonal promotions, community events, vendor partnerships. The stuff I actually enjoy.
One of the best parts? We don’t have to shut down for inventory anymore. Our team counts in the margins of the day. RFID scanning makes it quick. And when we do our full quarterly counts, we know they’re verifying—not exposing—a mess.
Last month, we had a rep from a regional distributor visit. She walked through our back room and said, “Wow. This is tight.” That might not sound like much. But it was everything. It meant we’d gone from scrambling to strategic. From guessing to knowing.
The truth is, you can’t run a grocery store from instinct anymore. There’s too much turnover, too much competition, and too little margin for error. You need visibility. You need rhythm. You need help.
That’s what this system gave us. Not a miracle. A method. A way to keep track without falling behind. A chance to lead our inventory instead of letting it lead us.
It’s been six months. Our spoilage is down. Our ordering is smarter. Our staff is calmer. And our shelves are full—with the right things, at the right time.
If you’re in the grocery business and you’re still relying on your gut, I get it. I’ve been there. But trust me, your gut deserves better data. And your team deserves a system that works.
