big box parking lot
Photo by J. Harrington
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To shop at Target, I have to drive there, find a parking space, dodge cars as I walk to the store entrance, grab a cart and hope that the purchases I want to make are in stock. Then, after wandering the aisles, it's time to check out and pay for things. Today, my local Target had two real people cashiers and four self-checkout stations. Each of the real cashiers had several customers, sorry, guests, with multiple items. I had one item, a package of my preferred batteries. It didn't make sense to wait for multiple guests with multiple items when I had only the one, so, muttering to myself, I decided to try the self-checkout option. Each of the four stations had a "guest" at it. There was one employee that I could see and she was attempting to assist two guests, each of whom had managed to disrupt the self-checkout scanner or something. I decided that I could get my preferred batteries another time, another place, possibly at Amazon.
local food, local co-op
Photo by J. Harrington
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I'm not sure if big box retailers realize it isn't all about price. I don't approve of Target's plastic bag mania, their phasing out of real people as cashiers. The fact that the parking lot is sometimes overcrowded and other times poorly plowed. An Amazon "self-checkout" of clicking a button on a computer screen I can handle. Free shipping is nice. I don't have to expose my body or my vehicle to the random hazards of a big box parking lot. I don't have to take a chance that the item I want isn't in stock. I have access to customer reviews. On the issues of convenience and transparency, Amazon seems to come out ahead.
I'll continue to look for local sources for books and food. I'll limit my big box expenditures as much as possible, and I'll look for convenience before price, at least as much as may seem reasonable. Amazon has lots wrong with their business model but so do many of the big box chains. I became really sensitive to these issues some years ago when I read James Howard Kunstler's The Long Emergency. He has a sequel, Living in the Long Emergency, that's supposed to be published some time this year. If my local book store doesn't have a copy when it becomes available, I'll ask them to order one for me.
It sits between the Dollar General
and Rescue Alley, begging
for change, white sign
with a Jack Rabbit dressed
like a ’40s gangster. Smug grin,
he leans against a lamppost,
his cane no more relevant
than the red suspenders
clamped to his slacks.
In the parking lot sits a trailer,
where a guy who goes by Dino
sells fireworks with names
like Falcon Rising, Sexy Rider,
and Bada Bing! Bada Boom!
Nancy burns one out back,
and rumors about town
contend the ladies love Dino
for his sparklers and not for
his cherry bombs, which might
mean anything in Sulligent, Alabama,
where things are still simple
enough for a scratch-off ticket
and half-a-tank of non-ethanol gas
—a reminder on the way home
that there is more to life
than barely making it. Why,
right at your foot a 1952
wheat penny shimmers like
a pinky swear in a schoolyard.
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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