Morton Williams Plastic Bag Policy For 2020

So there I was, last January, wrestling a bag of clementines into my reusable tote at Morton Williams. The cashier, a guy named Vinny who’s been there since the Reagan era, gave me a look. “You know,” he said, “they changed the bags again.” And he tossed my oranges into a new, suspiciously thin plastic sack without a word.

That’s when I realized: 2020 was the year Morton Williams decided to get serious about plastic. Not “save the turtles” serious, but “we’re-a-New-York-grocery-store-and-people-are-yelling-at-us” serious. So, let’s break down what actually happened with that plastic bag policy. Grab a coffee—or a glass of something stronger, I won’t judge.

The Great Bag Shuffle

First, Morton Williams didn’t go full “paper or nothing” like some chains. Instead, they played the New York City bag fee game—that’s the five-cent tax you pay for a single-use plastic bag since 2017. But in 2020, they quietly swapped their plastic bags from the old, flimsy kind to a slightly thicker, “reusable” approved version.

Here’s the irony: these new bags were stronger, but they still felt like they’d self-destruct if you looked at them wrong. Morton Williams claimed the change was to comply with a new state ban on thin plastic bags. Oh, the state ban? That started in March 2020, right when everyone was panic-buying toilet paper. Perfect timing, New York.

The real kicker? These “reusable” bags cost a nickel each, but they were legally allowed to be given out as single-use. So, customers were paying five cents for a bag that was technically reusable, but so thin it would rip on the second trip. Genius loophole, honestly.

Joint Statement from NYC School Construction Authority, NYU, and Morton

What the Policy Actually Said (And Didn’t Say)

Officially, Morton Williams’ 2020 policy was: “We will provide only reusable plastic bags and paper bags for $0.05 each, as required by law.” Unofficially? They didn’t stop offering free plastic produce bags or the little bags for bulk nuts. Because nobody wants to weigh a pound of almonds in a paper bag.

I remember asking a manager about this once. He shrugged and said, “The law doesn’t cover those little ones. We’ll charge you for a bag if you want to carry your apples to your car in it, though.” That’s the Morton Williams way: comply with the law, but make it clear they’re not happy about it.

The Customer Meltdown That Followed

Predictably, 2020 saw a spike in customer rage over the bag policy. People would yell at cashiers, “I’m not paying five cents for THIS excuse of a bag!” while holding a bag that already had a hole in it. But Morton Williams didn’t flinch—they kept the policy because, well, it was the law. They even posted big signs near the entrance: “Reusable Bags Required by NY State Law.” As if a sign ever stopped a determined New Yorker from complaining.

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I’ll be honest: I stole a few of those thin “reusable” bags myself. Not out of malice, but because the alternative—trying to juggle six items to my apartment without a bag—was impossible. Guilty as charged. But I also used them for cat litter later, so I’m part of the solution, right?

The Hidden Cost of “Saving the Planet”

Here’s the part nobody talks about. Morton Williams raised the price of their paper bags later that year to match the plastic bag’s five-cent fee. So now, if you wanted an eco-friendly paper bag, you paid the same price as the plastic one. That’s like charging a premium for the ethical option. Talk about a win-win for the store.

Meanwhile, the city was patting itself on the back for reducing plastic waste. But I saw customers at Morton Williams just dump their items into the cart without a bag, then shove them into their coats. The policy wasn’t stopping waste; it was just making people creative—and slightly annoyed.

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What I Learned From That Unforgiving 2020

The Morton Williams plastic bag policy of 2020 was a messy compromise. They wanted to look green, but they also didn’t want to lose customers who hated paying for bags. So they gave us the illusion of choice: the same five-cent fee for a plastic bag that might break, or a paper bag that might turn your groceries into a soggy avalanche if it rains. And it always rains in New York during your walk home.

If you ask me, the real lesson is this: don’t expect a grocery store to save the world. They’ll just shift the inconvenience onto you, the shopper. So bring your own bags—but also, maybe keep a stash of those Morton Williams “reusable” bags in your car. Just in case you need to transport a whole watermelon and a box of donuts.

Because in 2020, Morton Williams showed us that change comes slowly, awkwardly, and always with a five-cent side of sarcasm. And honestly? I miss Vinny the cashier. He never charged me for the produce bags. That’s real loyalty.