Milk, Eggs, Community & Kindness: LaRocca's Country Market

"Transaction Failed." Two little words about to cause a huge headache for me, printed at the bottom of the receipt she'd just handed me. She frowned sympathetically.

"Would you like me to run your card again, sir?"

I nodded, confused. The cashier, 22-year-old Lexie Radonich, obliged and patiently waited without so much as a huff or eye-roll as I pulled up my TD Bank account information on my phone to check my balance. Although I've been known to occasionally indulge irresponsibly, I knew that couldn't be the case that day—Monday, July 15th. I should have just been paid via direct deposit that morning.

If the money was gone, it would not have been my own doing. I had a fleeting fear my account had been emptied without my knowledge.

My phone displayed all my funds existing right where they should. The very capable and often hilarious All My Sons movers had just left from my new moving quarters and I'd driven down the road to pickup some bare essentials at the only store in the immediate area, LaRocca's Country Market. This was supposed to be a quick trip to cap a long day. I showed my phone to Radonich, as if that would somehow magically transfer the funds of my account to the cash register.

She smiled softly, then did something I will remember for quite some time.

"Go ahead and take your groceries. You can come back when everything's sorted out."

I stared at her. “You mean…just take them?”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Take them? As in, bring them to my car and drive away with them?”

“Yes. It’s no problem. You can come back and pay for them when you sort out the problem with your account.”

***

"It's something we try not to do often," laughed Tommy LaRocca, sitting in his office at the market exactly one week later. "I've been burned by it a few times. But we're a family store. We're the only thing around for five miles, and we're sympathetic to that. We help the community when we can."

LaRocca is 37 and has been the owner for the past 3 years, though he's been a manager there for the 15 before that, and his uncle and father—also Thomas LaRocca—co-owned the market under the name Giovanni's for more than three decades prior to LaRocca taking over.

He says being the sole owner of a small local business allows him to make decisions big corporations would never allow, and it's been a way of life that has created a loyal customer base.

"It takes years to earn a customer and seconds to lose them," LaRocca said. "Our employees know almost everyone who comes in, know them by name, by what they like to eat. We know everybody, it seems. If you live in the neighborhood, you know me and I know you, pretty much."

Radonich, a college student at Iona's campus in New Rochelle and now in her third year at the market, confirms the sentiment. Candidly watching from the office, I spotted her coming out from behind the register to chat with a visitor and play with a baby.

"We see the same people coming in all the time. It's our little neighborhood store," she said, estimating she knows roughly 70-percent of the stores regular customers by name. "I see people when I'm out getting my nails done and they say 'Hi,' or I'll see someone walking along the road while I'm driving and they'll wave."

LaRocca said the employees are the reason the store has found such strong roots in the community. He spied Radonich playing with the baby in a walker and nodded to her.

"Those are my employees," he said. "You're not going to find them anywhere else. They actually care. This is a social place. People come and stay and chat for 15 minutes before they leave."

While leaving without paying is something of a rarity, perhaps my title provided some assurance: It would be hard to hide from a debt when just reading Patch would always allow my collectors to know exactly where I was. But LaRocca said gestures like my experience are not uncommon.

"Once, a woman called me—stuck in traffic and unable to get to the store before closing—and asked if I could leave some eggs and milk out so her kids could have breakfast in the morning," he said. "I left them in a little bag for her outside. Afterwards, she sent this amazing letter. She shared that story with a lot of people. It's not something she'll forget. Sometimes kindness is better than advertising."

***

I ran up to the door breathlessly at 7:01 p.m., just a minute after closing time, and caught who I now know was LaRocca carrying some boxes down the stairs outside the store. I explained what had happened—inexplicably, my bank had flagged my account when I'd used an ATM just 10 minutes from both my old and new address—and he smiled and patted me on the shoulder, then let me in to speak with Radonich.

I will visit the store whenever I can because they showed me a kindness after a particularly exhausting day, right at the moment I needed it. And kindness, as I now know, is better than advertising. You can visit LaRocca's Country Market at 105 Old Long Ridge Road. They're open until 7 p.m., but occasionally a few minutes later.