Growing up in Pittsburgh, my childhood Halloween hauls were 70 percent Clark Bars. Emptying my bag onto the living room floor, I’d channel my inner Ralphie from A Christmas Story, muttering a disappointed "Ohhhhh fuuudge!" at all that local chocolate.

Because Clark Bars were manufactured in Pittsburgh, customers at the local G.C. Murphy or Thrift Drug could scoop up giant bags at markdown prices. Clark had Halloween cornered in southwestern Pennsylvania.

Times have changed. Those stores are gone, Clark Bars are rare, and I’m old enough that I don't have to say "fudge" when I'm angry. But one thing hasn't changed: kids still treat trick-or-treating like a game of neighborhood Rolo roulette. Back then, anything besides a Clark Bar was a coveted confection.

After I reluctantly grew up, I went into retail, leading media relations for Kmart and Sears. Our Kmart stores would load up on cheap candy before Halloween, and sales always topped costumes or decorations. Corporate buyers spent months planning exactly what to sell, how much to order, and where to ship it across 1,000 stores. Then, like clockwork on Nov. 1, the leftovers went on clearance. Apparently, peanut butter cups don’t age well on store shelves.

That human-driven process seems so stale now. Nowadays, people snicker at the butterfingers of humans, proverbial pez heads who can let things slip be-twix their fingers. But don’t be too quick to kiss humans goodbye.

Today, childhood nostalgia is being systematically optimized away by advanced predictive analytics and logistical AI.

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