Shopping Experience

Going to the store was once pleasurable.  When I had little money, there were treasure hunts.  When I needed something, I could find something suitable, then assess if the price justified a purchase.  Now I have ample money but need very few things. And not even want many more things.  My favorites of the various places I lived have largely gone belly up.  Korvette's as a teen, Sears and Venture in my St. Louis time, Filene's, Caldor, and Lechmere in my Boston years.  The Dry Goods, later morphed to Value City as an adult.  Now only Boscov's remains, a regional place rescued from bankruptcy, a place to find a treasure most visits.  And Marshall's and TJ Maxx, and Costco, all places designed to go exploring without a list. Walmart exists, but about to exit from my shopping destinations.

Walmart had been operational for 25 years before I discovered one near me.  Cheap, diverse items.  Nothing great, everything good enough, with a few favorites.  My local store enters with Mens to the right.  T-shirts, sometimes a hat.  Other clothing better at Boscov's or TJ Maxx.  Shoes, they often had my difficult to find size.  Always good enough for maybe three years.  Watches cheap.  Never had better gel pens than their Magnalites, which have disappeared.  Fishing, the place to be.  Unfortunately my last two ventures, one with a single target item, the other more amorphous, at two different locations did not pan out.  For Holiday shopping I roamed every aisle, picking one of a potential fourteen items, which I put back, not wanting only one item.  A short drive from there, Marshall's completed most of my gift purchases, and with a much more visually inviting store staffed by more impressive employees.

While repairing my home, I confronted a major misadventure.  Though some diligence and risk enabled me to complete the task, I could have also done it with a different tool.  Project done, I still considered getting the tool, as it was economical and versatile.  I drove to my Walmart, about nine miles from home, on a Sunday afternoon.  Men's section on the right.  A suitable t-shirt with my favorite logo got the better of me.  I walked onward.  Housewares.  Nothing that I needed.  Jewelry department, nearly empty.  Stationery.  Was looking for a multicolor Flair Pen set with the five colors I use for my daily planning.  They had other colors.  Fishing off in a far corner.  The plethora of rods that once lined a wall were now clumsily stacked in a corner.  Lures, sinkers, hooks not easy to sort through.  I came for a tool.  Its location was not obvious.  After sorting through some automotive products, I arrived at an aisle where DIY enthusiasts might shop for what they need.  Everything stood locked in glass cases.  Screwdriver, hammers, drills.  Everything that would be strewn around my junior high shop class tables needed protection from theft by Walmart.  I found four employees, wearing sky blue vests.  None had the key that would open the locked case where I could see the electric tool through the window.  None knew which colleague had the key.  None looked overly busy, though all declined my need in a polite way.  Finally, a lady in blue vest owned up to having the key.  She showed me the tool.  Box already open, looking like it have been returned by a previous shopper.  I asked the clerk its cost.  She had to look it up on her smart phone app.  Four dollars more than the online price I had looked up the week before when my home project floundered.  I thanked her, as she returned the tool to the shelf and locked the glass cage.  Then I still had to pay for the t-shirt.  I also have my favorite Walmart snacks that my path to the register will force me to cross.  Expensive, not suitably appetizing.

For a single item, I scan and pay myself.  What had been a dozen self-scanners on my last visit there six months ago had been winnowed to four.  Still, there were many fewer shoppers than a year or two ago.  I waited my turn, paid by credit card, insert only, no tap option, and proceeded to my Toyota with my new t-shirt and receipt.

Retailers seem to have a natural life cycle. Great idea to begin.  Customers catch on.  Parking lots fill.  Stores become less clean, hire whoever they can get at minimum wage, become visually less attractive, and as America learned from Sears and K-Mart, can never be too big to fail.  Walmart's founder Sam deserved every billion that he earned.  He provided a visionary shopping experience for customers, though maybe a bit heavy-handed with suppliers.  His proteges learned his Walmart Way, but forgot some of the elements of what the shopping experience in the individual stores should provide.  I do not know if Walmart will descend to K-Mart.  On my road travels, I can always depend on getting snacks there, or replacing a lost item or new battery.  Never big purchases. And in places like Idaho, there are firearms departments to rival Cabela's. It is unlikely though, that I will drive nine miles again to seek out who has the key to allow me access to what I should just be able to pull off a shelf to look at.  There are no unexpected treasures at the two Walmarts near me.  TJ Maxx, Marshall's, and Boscov's, all much closer, leave me more satisfied, even when I exit empty-handed.