Service at Whole FoodsService at Whole FoodsThursday, July 27, 2006 2:24 pm. Service Merchandise is a store I always admired — there are still a few locations lingering on I believe — where I bought much valuable imitation-wood furniture in the old days; also lovely dubious hi-fi gadgets. ... Their great claim to fame, for me, anyway, was the utter complete absence of any kind of service. ... It was a place where you’d wander about, note the magic number of something you wanted, and take it to a surly clerk fired from the Social Security administration. ... Then you’d advance to the pick-up counter, a sort-of indoor loading dock manned by harassed somewhat less-surly personnel — I always assumed they feared injury from enraged customers — supported by backstage gorillas one could hear shouting and thumping behind the scenes. ... At least half the time, the order’d actually show-up! ... Smart shoppers knew never to pay the first clerk — which the store’s procedures allowed, no doubt because they had to. ... I’d usually leave after 15 minutes or so....
WonderMy thoughts turned to those golden days after I patronized a Whole Foods emporium in midtown Manhattan. ... The joint was absolutely jumping! ... Near the Fashion Institute of Technology, the customer population is at least half exquisite anorexic young women — but no gentle reader, this is not what inspired my insightful essay. ... No, it was the three checkout lines controlled by three LCD video screens and a robot that inspired me. ... As we inched up our lines — I picked the one with the young homosexual couple, figuring they’d know the score — a video screen would flash “register 8”, and the lucky shopper at the head of that line would dutifully proceed through the maelstrom to register 8, whose light-on-a-pole would beckon....
Those lines moved! ... And even if they didn’t, no one could feel the store was doing any less than its level best to take our money just as fast as humanly possible! ... It was wonderful! ...
Making it even better for my cynical temper was the fair certainty that the competition is utterly clueless. No doubt they put it down to “glitz” or something, but know in their secret hearts that no supermarket can provide rapid checkout; the supermarket gods will crush anyone who defies them so blatantly! ... And indeed in this they differ little from the vast majority of American retailers who, in some weird colonial residue of “I’ll work, but I won’t serve” will do anything but speed-up checkout lines.
No, to most American retailers, “service” means the helpful clerk who will happily hold up the line until the end of time so a little old lady can straighten out a suitcase of coupons — “that’s service” I’m sure they crow to each other, as the stranded shoppers abandon their carts and leave the store. ... I’ve seen it — I mean, the shoppers abandoning their carts; not the management crowing about it; I assume the management is hiding somewhere....
... And I saw one of
those
little old ladies at Whole Foods; she managed
to hold up the line in the shopping aisles
— we inched along behind her, restraining our impatience
in the
face of her confused aged pitifulness. ... She checked out ahead of me
— still trying to hold up the shopper behind her at the exit, but
the irascible
fellow wasn’t having any — and she shouted at him and cursed!
... Ah, La Ciudad! ...
