The thing I liked most about television’s Cheers was right there in the theme song: it was a place where “everybody knows your name.” Every time Norm or Cliff or any of the bar’s regulars walked through the front door and down those steps, they were greeted by name by Sam or Diane or Coach or Woody.

I have never been greeted by name at any bar or restaurant. I don’t even know how that could happen. No waiter or waitress has ever asked my name, and I’ve never found a smooth way to inject it into conversation. (“By the way, my name’s Rob, and I like cheese.”) To be honest I’m impressed every time a server is able to remember our order without writing it down. There’s no need for me to inject additional information into his or her brain.

It’s funny that I fantasize about employees remembering me by name when I don’t reciprocate. Even when servers introduce themselves to me by name, that information is long gone by the time our food arrives. If I can’t be bothered to remember their name, why would I ever think someone would bother with learning mine? Especially when, again, I don’t even give it to them.

I mention all of this for two reasons. One, because Susan just tried Walmart’s curbside grocery pickup for the first time; and two, I just tried to explain what a “cookie card” was to my kids and they looked at me like I was crazy.

Synder’s IGA (formerly Snyder’s Foods) was an Oklahoma-based chain of grocery stores. The one in Yukon, which sat on Main Street (aka Route 66), opened in 1961. If you lived in Yukon in the 60s, or 70s, or 80s, or 90s, or 00s, you definitely knew someone (or someone’s kid) who worked at Snyder’s. In this 1983 article from the Daily Oklahoman, owner Jim Snyder said “We have an obligation to get groceries to the lowest price possible. But there’s more to it than that. I still like to walk into a store where people know my name.”

When I was a kid, my mom did most of her grocery shopping at Snyder’s, at least for a while. There were other bargain grocery stores, like Crest, but they were in other towns, and Snyder’s was a locally owned store right there on Main Street. Every time my mom went grocery shopping at Snyder’s I tagged along for four reasons: the toy aisle, the magazine section, the arcade games, and the free cookies.

While my mom pushed her shopping cart up and down each aisle, I would venture out on my own (or with my sister in tow). I would survey the toy aisle first before heading to either the magazine section or the arcade games. There were two arcade games at Snyder’s, Zoo Keeper and Moon Patrol, sitting right next to the exit. Sometimes my mom would give me a quarter or two and I would play a couple of games. When I was out of change, I’d stand around watching other kids play or, if no one else was around, ignore the giant “GAME OVER” letters on the screen while thrashing the joystick and mashing the buttons in a bit of wishful theater. But the toy aisle was small, and one could only pretend to play arcade games for so long, which meant before long I would end up sitting on the bottom shelf of the magazine rack reading issues of The Electric Company, 3-2-1 Contact, Mad, or Cracked.

While eating a free cookie.

You see, Snyder’s issued Cookie Cards, which entitled the holder to one free cookie per visit. There were no strings attached and no gimmicks; they didn’t want your telephone number or ask to see a receipt or anything like that. You just walked up to the bakery counter, presented your card to the person behind the counter, and they handed you a free cookie. And just to be clear, we’re not talking an Oreo or some other off the shelf cookie; these were fresh baked cookies, right out of the oven — chocolate chip, I remember most — that were hot and a little soft and came wrapped in a little pocket of wax paper. And then I would take my fresh little cookie and go to the magazine rack and plop down on the bottom shelf and read magazines for free while most likely smudging the pages with whatever chocolate I hadn’t licked off my grubby little fingers.

Snyder’s closed in (I believe) 2003. There’s a Walmart Neighborhood Market one mile east of the old Snyder’s building, and a Walmart Supercenter two and a half miles to the southeast. (There’s another Walmart Supercenter eight miles north on Northwest Expressway, and a third, ten miles to the south, in Mustang.) There’s still a Homeland in town, but the newcomers are Smart Saver, Aldi, and Sprouts.

Last weekend, Susan tried Walmart’s new Grocery Pickup service. According to her, it worked exactly as advertised. She placed her order online, arrived during an agreed-upon time slot, and someone loaded her groceries into her car. They even called her by her name, although to be fair, they were holding a sheet of paper with her name and order printed on it. I’m sure if I entered a restaurant and handed my server a piece of paper with my name on it, they would call me by my name, too. They would probably talk about me by name after I left, too.

I guess by all counts that grocery pickup service works pretty well. The few items they didn’t have, they upgraded to higher priced items (at no cost to us). It was fast, and convenient. They even know your name.

But they’ll never have cookie cards.