The other day I decided to try something new and check out Whole Foods, which is pretty much across the street from the UCSD campus. Entering the store, I was very impressed to see that its trash receptacles were segregated into trash, recycle and compost bins. Sure, nearly everything in the store is light-years beyond my budget, but it was great to see such a large business taking a stand to help the environment.

So I sat beside the cool trash/recycle/compost receptacle and enjoyed my $5 cup of soup. Just as I finished, and was about to toss my soup cup into the compost bin, the sanitation engineer came by to change the bags. He took the recycle bag from the container and was tying it closed when he asked me if I wanted to toss my soup cup in the bag.

“”But this is compost,”” I protested. “”Isn’t that the recycle bag?””

“”Oh, it doesn’t matter,”” he said. “”It’s all going to the same place.””

Confused, I asked him what he meant, and he explained that because someone always throws waste in the wrong bin, everything ends up in the trash. He must have noticed the look of severe disappointment on my face as he tossed the bag onto his trash cart, because he explained that he was sorry and that he couldn’t exactly go through all of the trash and sort it after the fact.

Man, what a sham.

If Whole Foods were really as earth-friendly as it claims, you’d think the recycle and compost materials would actually end up being recycled and composted. But I guess that would be too inconvenient. Come to think of it, if Whole Foods was really so concerned about the environment, it wouldn’t generate all that extra waste to begin with. Individually wrapped plastic utensils are not necessary, and neither are all of the energy-sucking halogen ambiance lamps heavily used throughout the store. Maybe Whole Foods should scrap those lavish little extras, invest in some energy-efficient florescent lights and think more seriously about its self-proclaimed “”Commitment to Green.””

It’s a lot like the tobacco companies that put tips on the backs of cigarette packs to help you quit. That’s bullshit – obviously they don’t want you to quit, they are simply compelled by lawsuits to appear concerned. And with anti-smoking campaigns gaining popularity, tobacco companies could use some good publicity.

But a mandatory surgeon general’s warning and a little pseudo-inspirational piece of paper isn’t going to deter an addict, and Big Tobacco knows this. If those companies really cared about the health of millions, they wouldn’t base their livelihood on an addictive and deadly product.

Or like the way the UCSD Bookstore’s online summary brags about offering “”discount prices on many products.”” Like what? The Bookstore gouges students on everything from textbooks to Scantrons to candy bars. Almost everything students normally purchase can be found on campus for significantly cheaper.

But the Bookstore wants you to believe it’s there to help; it has even set up a preorder system for textbooks. That way naive freshmen can be scammed into spending hundreds of dollars on optional study guides they will never use. How thoughtful.

If the UCSD Bookstore and administration actually cared about providing a helpful service to students, rather than simply turning a profit, they wouldn’t go out of their way to cripple competitors that actually provide such services – like University Readers, or the student-run co-ops.

So what’s up with this? Do corporations like Whole Foods, Big Tobacco and the UCSD Bookstore really think they’re fooling us? I see through their guise.

I’m not saying they’re all bad. Whole Foods, for example, continues to be a strong proponent of alternative energy: In January 2006, the chain purchased wind energy credits equivalent to all the power used by its North American stores, facilities and global and regional support offices.

But its time to call out these companies for what they really are: a trendy grocery store designed to make rich La Jollans driving gas-guzzling SUVs feel like they’re helping the planet; a group of self-interested death dealers; and one big profit-hungry monolith.