(Cont’d from previous post)
7 Different shirts at $16.50 – I do the math in my head. Ten times seven is 70, six times seven is 42, plus three and a half, that almost $115. For t-shirts! (but in my head, like my own internal Jedi Mind Trick “you will wear these t-shirts for the next 5 years” – I reply – “yes, I will wear these for 5 years – Dude, it’s okay to by the t-shirts!”) And as the internal dialogue continues, I amble to the counter to make my purchase.
I’m pretty good about not getting distracted between the items I need and where I have to pay. I don’t look at any other items – straight line to the counter to pay, but there is one other man in front of me. He is buying two shirts. As the employee is doing all of the magic stuff she does to make the purchase ready, including taking off hangers, tags, and electronic gizmos, the man turns and looks at me – and I want to say it is a sheepish look, but perhaps I’m just projecting how I’m feeling. It’s hard to tell at this point. But I must say that he looks fairly stylish, perhaps even a bit dowdy.
Then, it happens. I hear the employee, a small, younger woman, begin. “Are you a member of our rewards program? Do you have our store credit card? If you sign up today you can save 10% off of this purchase.” I feel my heart beginning to beat a little bit faster because as I project into the very near future, she is going to be asking me those same questions and I am going to be forced to answer her. I hate that she is going to ask me those questions, already. I’m not sure why – I know that I don’t want to be a member of a rewards program and I know that I’m not signing up for a credit card. But I also know that it is her job to ask – every. single. person.
The man in front of me casually denies her. She uses a hand-held scanner to scan his two shirts – bleep…bleep…she doesn’t mention how much it will cost him, she just lets it show up on the screen. The man dutifully takes out his wallet and hands over his credit (or debit) card. And you would think that from this point it would be a quick and easy transaction… but then she asks him for his email address. He pauses – I pause – we both think to ourselves about giving out the email address. We both think, “What are you going to do with my email address?” But, then again, we know what they are going to do with our email address.
After a split second of reflection, or maybe lack thereof, he gives her his email address! I can’t believe it – he actually gives her his email address! Then we spend the next eternity as he spells out his email address while the employee scours and pecks at the keyboard. In my head, I’m like, “Dude, they are going to send you emails every six seconds for the rest of your life. You will never escape them. You are going to have to change your email account, because when you hit unsubscribe from their email, there will be seven hundred steps to actually unsubscribe and you’ll be so frustrated that you’ll give up!” He turns his head over his shoulder with a sheepishly sad smile, and without saying a word, sends me this message, “I know. I know. I’m not exactly sure why I just did that. Oh, Lord, what have I done.” And he turns back to the register.
She proceeds to ask for his phone number and his zip code, which he gives her. And just as I think I am going to witness the conclusion of this transaction, she asks if he would like to donate a dollar today for the children’s hospital victims of hurricane Xanadu refugee relocation soldiers project homeless food pantry heart disease school lunch backpack fund.
Silence.
I even think the store music has gone silent for this moment.
I think I can hear his heartbeat.
I know what’s going through his head.
He thinks, “No.” But she stares at him and waits. He thinks, “A dollar…ah jeez…” I feel his pain and look at the ceiling so as not to witness the awkward pseudo confrontation playing out in front of me. And after several seconds, he says, “sure.” The employee doesn’t even blink, scans a little barcode on her register that adds a dollar to the purchase and finally she enters his payment by rapidly swiping his credit card back and forth.
As they exchange pleasantries, “Receipt with you or in the bag?” and “Have a nice day!” I wish to myself that I could make my purchase without being asked if I want anything else. I wish for a totally silent transaction, if I were to be perfectly honest. But I know that’s not what’s going to happen. What’s going to happen next is a little game retailers like to play with consumers called “Upselling.” Don’t be fooled for a minute – this is a well-crafted tactic that retailers employ to help liberate shoppers from their cash – and I know that I’m next.
MEANINGFUL CONSUMERISM 