Problems of a first-world suburban shopper

Signs in the store are informing customers that the Greendale Sam's Club will close and the new club off of Route 146 will open this spring (no date specified).

For most folks in the city, this is a good move. The store is easier to reach once you figure out the on/off ramps. For folks in the northern 'burbs, though, it doubles the distance one has to drive to pick up a year's emergency food supply.

From Holden, it's about equidistant to the B.J.'s in Leominster. Market Basket is in nearby Searstown Plaza, in the case that I'm buying less than a year's worth of something. Of course, there's a B.J.'s near the new Wegmans in Northborough.

But,  Bill Randell has been reporting that Market Basket may be coming to the former Diamond Chevrolet in Worcester, which makes in-city shopping viable again.

All this is necessary, of course, until robots are ready to do our bidding:

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="469" caption="Kroger debuts kiosk concept at area college campus"][/caption]

Stop and Shop app stops shopping

Stop and Shop has managed to make a difficult process unbearable. They've done so by taking it mobile.

Let's start with their apps. They have three.

The first one you search for and find is not the one you want. The first one tells you a few things that you almost want to know, such as coupons and specials that are available for you as a prized Stop and Shop online customer.

You see signs around the store about deals that are available with the Stop and Shop shopping app. You see the info everywhere except in this Stop and Shop app. There's a link in the app to Peapod Mobile so you can shop on the go. ("Peapod in your pocket" is their clever, if a bit creepy slogan.")  That's the second app. That's not the one you want, either.

Besides, you're in the back of the store where cell phone reception is one bar at best. There is a WiFi network available, but you can't connect to it because it's only available through the app that you need to install, the Stop & Shop ScanIt! Mobile app.

You go back toward the front of store where radio waves can make it through the produce section and download this helpful little doggie. You scan your Stop and Shop card to register the app. The app then connects to the WiFi and you're ready to shop.

Slowly. It's slow because you have to scan the barcode of each item. You're standing in the aisle, twisting the can of pumpkin to align the barcode to your phone's camera, and waiting for the little ping that says you've been successful. On to the dairy section to find heavy cream. (In case you're wondering, Sandra's making a pumpkin chiffon pie for Christmas dessert.)

People are tangled up in the aisles, looking for unfamiliar ingredients for a special holiday meal and you've got your phone next to an upside-down box of corn bread mix. Can you imagine Balthazar fumbling with his phone and a bag of frankincense so his app could record the purchase?

When you're done disrupting the movement of shoppers through the store, it's on to the checkout. Hold your phone up to the bar code near the register. Yay, we get the ping. Now, scan your frickin' Stop and Shop card at the register! Your order appears on the screen. Scan the things that you couldn't scan with the app, such as the oranges because they don't have a barcode to scan.

Press the Finish and Pay button. Press Credit. On the handy PIN pad, tell it (again) that you're using a credit card. Sign your name on the display and press the unreadable Done button when you're, um, done.

To complete the experience, wait for the coupon for deodorant because Stop and Shop thinks that you smell bad.

Dept. of Shopping

I've often mentioned that I rely on a few folks to help me make up my mind at election times. If I'm undecided or just haven't been paying attention, I check the signs on their lawns and then vote for the other candidate.
The folks at the American Family Association can provide similar assistance with shopping.
Sometimes, for example, I can't decide whether to shop at The Home Depot, Lowe's, or another home center. The AFA is continuing its boycott of The Home Depot because THD's foundation will match employee gifts to GLAAD:

The Home Depot, through its Foundation, is now matching donations by its employees to further homosexual activism.

Based on the work of Home Depot Foundation is doing, I'm more likely to shop at The Home Depot.
You might regard my opinion in the same way that I rely on my neighbors, as a resource for contrary guidance. In any case, now you have some ideas who will and won't be shopping where.

I saw the best minds of my generation ...

It used to be that Marley would run into the other room when I started cooking. We had a very sensitive smoke detector that would sound the alarm whenever it, well, detected smoke. I'm a better cook now, more careful, more patient. I also rely on the microwave to pre- and re-heat a lot of foods.
So, it was serious when those puffs of acrid smoke came from bottom of the microwave as I prepared our contributions to Christmas Eve dinner. At his age, Marley's got better things to do that to be running from my cooking again.
Sandra and I brought the microwave to the Sears repair department. Upon learning that there was a $90 minimum charge for repairs, we told the repair tech that he was the proud owner of a microwave that only emitted smoke when it was on. We then went upstairs to buy a new oven.
The guy selling appliances looked like so many guys I know, guys I went to school with, guys a lot like me. I'll bet that he didn't look in the mirror often, but when he did, he was surprised by the white hair that was taking over.
Sears had taught him the basics about features for each of the appliances, but he had to check the weekly sales flyer to find out about specials.
As we looked at the various models, sometimes a price tag fell to the floor. "I'll get it," he said, thinking that he could pick up something from the floor as easily as he could 40 years ago.
We decided to go with one of the larger units.

We wanted it in white. He checked the computer and told us that he didn't have it in white.
"Can we buy a floor model?" we asked.
"I'm sorry. I can't sell floor models."
"What other colors do you have?" we asked.
"I'll have to go downstairs and check." With that, he left the floor and went to the stockroom to write down model numbers of what was in inventory.
While he was gone, I sent a Twitter message.

Sears won't sell us the last microwave we want because then they won't have any.

He came back and told us that there were no other microwaves in other colors. We asked about the stainless steel model that was on display.
"It's $199.99"
"But the sticker in front of it says $152.99."
"That's for the black or white."
"But you don't have those."
"Right."
"Do you have any stainless steel?"
"No."
"Can we buy the floor model?"
"I'd love to sell it to you, but the company won't let me."
"Because if you did," I said, "then you wouldn't have any left."
"If this was a Mom-and-Pop store," he said, ignoring me, "they'd sell you the floor model just like that. I can't do it, though."
And so we left without a microwave and Sears didn't get our $152.99 or $199.99.

A few hours later, Sears customer service finds me on Twitter and sends me some notes.