Shopping is a pastime that I thought that I would never enjoy. You have to have two X chromosomes to spend the entire day rummaging through clothes racks in search of the shirt with the right fit, material, color, style, texture, and, most importantly, price. Some years ago I reached a modus vivendi with the shopper in our family; she would leave me to graze at the electronic and book stores while she took off in search of that elusive, chimerical garment.
I’ve added the modern supermarket to the list of refuges where I can hang out without being bored. The supermarket stimulates the senses of recall and wonder. Take the bread shelf, which has been expanded to an aisle. It wasn’t too long ago when our choice of bread was limited to white or brown (wheat). Now, in addition, there are loaves of multi-grain, oat, raisin, pumpernickel, low-carb, honey wheatberry, cheese, sweet, barley, and at least a dozen other permutations and variations that are limited only by the baker’s imagination. And we haven’t even mentioned the shapes and sizes that are available.
So I amble the aisles and marvel at the variety of products. When the supermarket first appeared after World War II, it provided support for the esthetic arguments against capitalism. Mass production and mass marketing threatened to eliminate regional distinctiveness. As American-style capitalism swept the world, Wal-Marts arise in verdant pastures (so the myth goes---often they replace run-down buildings in blighted neighborhoods) and flatten small communities.
But the dreaded sameness that the esthetes feared has been replaced by choices, in some case too many choices. One can’t order a simple cup of coffee without running a linear programming algorithm: How strong do I want the brew? Where do the beans come from? Should they be medium or dark roast? Caffeinated or not? How much fat do I want in my milk? Sugar or artificial sweetener or chocolate? What size cup? How much do I want to spend? Just a cuppa joe, please, black.
In their incessant drive to grow, merchants have found that increasing the number of products is not enough. Different products are introduced for each region to attract local customers. Think globally, act locally, the latest flex of the invisible hand. © 2005 Stephen Yuen
The Hawaiian dish, laulau, may be found in Honolulu's Sam Club, which is owned by Wal-Mart.
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