Because my refrigerator is surrounded by 1950s cabinets, I got out my tape measure, took down the dimensions, and hit the road. Although I try to lessen my carbon footprint as much as possible, I have no desire to live without refrigerated food. How hard can it be to get a refrigerator, I thought. The whole thing should take an hour or two. After all, I knew what I wanted; it was just a matter of finding a good price.
I really am naive. I started out at Lowe's for no other reason than the fact that they carry some nice-looking appliances and open at the crack of dawn. I wandered through the appliance section comparing dimensions. Something was off. Not a single refrigerator had dimensions even close to what I needed. I wandered around some more. Several Lowe's employees gazed lazily at me as they drank their coffee. No one approached me. No one offered to help. Could it be that I don't know how to use a tape measure? Am I really that home improvement-impaired? Since no one seemed inclined to sell me anything I decided to just move on and not only get some answers but also spend my money elsewhere.
So I went to Sears. After all, the holy grail was a Kenmore Elite with french doors and a bottom freezer. Once again I wandered the aisles, my dimensions ridiculously different than the dimensions of each and every model on the floor. Once again no one noticed me. Desperate, I found a stockperson and asked if someone could help me, and five minutes later the appliance guy emerged from the depths. "I need a refrigerator that's 66 1/2" tall and 35" wide," I said. "Everything on the floor is at least 69" tall and too narrow. Did they stop making the size I need?" He replied, "Let me see your dimensions," as if I was somehow misstating what I had written. "I guess refrigerators have gotten taller," he finally admitted. "Well, are there any models in the size I need, anywhere?" I asked. He suggested that I just buy the wrong size and see if the delivery people can "cram it in."
"The space is surrounded by cabinets original to the kitchen, and I don't want to remodel. I just want to chill my beer," I said. His response was to go to the desk, turn on the computer, and go to Sears.com. The Sears salesperson then proceeded to troll the Sears website while I stood in the Sears store. Having nothing better to do, I surreptitiously read the printed emails that littered the desk. "It's been a terrible month and commissions come out next week," one stated. "Let's really push some appliances this weekend!" I wondered if my salesperson had bothered to read his email.
"Aha!" he finally exclaimed. "There is one model that will pretty much fit." I asked if there was a sample on the floor. "No," he replied. "But I can order it from the website for you." I thanked him and explained that I do have my own computer and could just do that from home, if I wanted to order an appliance sight-unseen. At this point I despaired of ever finding a new fridge, and decided to see if the one I have could just be repaired.
Back at my house, I began calling repairmen. The first two calls yielded no answer, and no answering machine. My third call, to Ralph's Appliances, was answered on the first ring. I explained the situation. "Sounds like a freon problem," the man who introduced himself as Craig explained. "Unfortunately, there's no way of fixing that. Most people don't make the size fridge you need anymore, but there is one GE model that has the right height and width. It's a little too deep, but it beats hiring a carpenter and dealing with all that. I have one model on the floor in stainless, but can order other colors, if you want. We can have it to you by Friday." Craig! I love you! I hopped in the car and sped off to Ralph's.
At Ralph's Appliances in Nazareth, PA delivery, installation, and the hauling away of the old appliance is included in the sale price. There is no need for a service contract or extended warranty because they service what they sell. My fridge cost less than it would have if ordered online, and came with a special rebate for people who buy from small, local dealers. Again: Ralph's Appliances in Nazareth, PA. They pick up the phone. They help you. If you need an appliance, please help them. And say hi to Craig for me.
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Remembrance of Patty Melts Past
When I was a kid one of my biggest thrills was accompanying my father on his weekly trip to Two Guys. I'm not sure what exactly killed Two Guys - over-expansion? Wal-mart? changing consumer tastes? - but to a child it was a wonderland indeed. It was the source of all toys, a mecca filled with bikes and cap guns and board games and records and record players and pretty much anything a young heart could desire. Two Guys was so vast, so overflowing with manna, that it had its own restaurant and cocktail lounge right by the entrance, providing succor to tired pilgrims. In fact, the lost world I'm mourning this morning isn't Two Guys per se, but the world of stores so comprehensive, so important, that shoppers would linger so long that they would work up an appetite and need to stop for a meal.
When I think about it, nearly every large retailer I can recall had at least a lunch counter and at most a restaurant/bar. Woolworth's, Grant's, Hess's, Falk's, Macy's, Bloomingdale's. I vividly remember my local Woolworth's, where one could purchase a bird or a cat or candy or K-Tel records and then stop for a patty melt before moving on. I don't remember this, but apparently Falk's, a local chain, sold groceries as well as department store items, and one could purchase a steak from the butcher and then take it into the cocktail lounge, order a martini, and have the cook prepare it for you. Why did this all go away?
Unless I'm in a particular mood I don't tend to enjoy shopping. A couple of drinks might help things along. My local Wal-Mart features an Auntie Annie's pretzel stand, but a greasy soft pretzel doesn't come close sufficing in terms of making Wal-Mart tolerable. Several gimlets, on the other hand, might help me to see the beauty of Jacqueline Smith's fashion collection.
The truly cavernous department stores that remain, in large cities, still have restaurants within them, usually on an upper floor, so that even those who are only stopping in to meet someone for lunch are forced to walk though merchandise. I understand that the world now goes to work each day; ladies who lunch are harder and harder to find. The after-work shopping crowd might be hungry, though, and certainly would be in need of happy hour. Putting restaurants back into stores might entice people to linger, to stop rushing around before hurrying home.
People clearly still have an interest in dining in the middle of a shopping expedition. Every big-box shopping center includes fast food outlets, and often includes some mid-price bar/restaurant chain like Applebee's. Every mall has an awful "food court." The difference now is that one must leave the store in order to get to the food and drink. In fact, one probably leaves the store, gets into the car, and drives across the parking lot to get to it, wasting fossil fuel and contributing to obesity by discouraging the simple act of walking. Put the alcohol back into the stores, people, it's just healthier!
What's lost is the sense of wonder and excitement, the notion that a store is a place people want to be, a place people enjoy so much they want to make a day of it. What's lost is the sense that our cornucopia of consumerist plenty is something to be celebrated with steaks, martinis, and patty melts, that the act of purchasing can be, in and of itself, an event.
When I think about it, nearly every large retailer I can recall had at least a lunch counter and at most a restaurant/bar. Woolworth's, Grant's, Hess's, Falk's, Macy's, Bloomingdale's. I vividly remember my local Woolworth's, where one could purchase a bird or a cat or candy or K-Tel records and then stop for a patty melt before moving on. I don't remember this, but apparently Falk's, a local chain, sold groceries as well as department store items, and one could purchase a steak from the butcher and then take it into the cocktail lounge, order a martini, and have the cook prepare it for you. Why did this all go away?
Unless I'm in a particular mood I don't tend to enjoy shopping. A couple of drinks might help things along. My local Wal-Mart features an Auntie Annie's pretzel stand, but a greasy soft pretzel doesn't come close sufficing in terms of making Wal-Mart tolerable. Several gimlets, on the other hand, might help me to see the beauty of Jacqueline Smith's fashion collection.
The truly cavernous department stores that remain, in large cities, still have restaurants within them, usually on an upper floor, so that even those who are only stopping in to meet someone for lunch are forced to walk though merchandise. I understand that the world now goes to work each day; ladies who lunch are harder and harder to find. The after-work shopping crowd might be hungry, though, and certainly would be in need of happy hour. Putting restaurants back into stores might entice people to linger, to stop rushing around before hurrying home.
People clearly still have an interest in dining in the middle of a shopping expedition. Every big-box shopping center includes fast food outlets, and often includes some mid-price bar/restaurant chain like Applebee's. Every mall has an awful "food court." The difference now is that one must leave the store in order to get to the food and drink. In fact, one probably leaves the store, gets into the car, and drives across the parking lot to get to it, wasting fossil fuel and contributing to obesity by discouraging the simple act of walking. Put the alcohol back into the stores, people, it's just healthier!
What's lost is the sense of wonder and excitement, the notion that a store is a place people want to be, a place people enjoy so much they want to make a day of it. What's lost is the sense that our cornucopia of consumerist plenty is something to be celebrated with steaks, martinis, and patty melts, that the act of purchasing can be, in and of itself, an event.
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Ham in Every Pot
For the past week, one of my local grocery chains has been running advertisements claiming that they are THE source for Easter ham because they stock no less than 16 types of the stuff. My main response to their barrage of ads was to think, "Are there really 16 types of ham? And if so, why?" I shopped yesterday at that particular chain and am compelled to report that yes, the entire meat department was filled with ham and, although I didn't count, it certainly felt like 16 varieties filled the aisle. I've never seen so much ham in one place in my life.
I never knew ham had varieties. My mother never made baked ham so I'm new to it. How could I have imagined that ham can be purchased whole, half, bone-in, bone-out, shoulder, shoulder butt, picnic, smoked, honey glazed, spiral sliced, country style, or made out of turkey? How could I have imagined that some ham could be had for $0.49 a pound, while some would set one back $3.49/lb.?
Although the Easter bunny filled our baskets, this was not a holiday that we celebrated. What does one eat for Easter if one doesn't like ham? Or is there simply no other choice? And what is the grocery store going to do with all of its unsold ham? What, if anything, does ham have to do with Easter, anyway? The Last Supper was the Passover meal, a feast that was resolutely ham-free. I'm at a loss. I did buy a ham, though, a nice shoulder butt (whatever that is) for the ridiculously low price of $3.34 for almost six pounds. That's a lot of ham sandwiches.
I never knew ham had varieties. My mother never made baked ham so I'm new to it. How could I have imagined that ham can be purchased whole, half, bone-in, bone-out, shoulder, shoulder butt, picnic, smoked, honey glazed, spiral sliced, country style, or made out of turkey? How could I have imagined that some ham could be had for $0.49 a pound, while some would set one back $3.49/lb.?
Although the Easter bunny filled our baskets, this was not a holiday that we celebrated. What does one eat for Easter if one doesn't like ham? Or is there simply no other choice? And what is the grocery store going to do with all of its unsold ham? What, if anything, does ham have to do with Easter, anyway? The Last Supper was the Passover meal, a feast that was resolutely ham-free. I'm at a loss. I did buy a ham, though, a nice shoulder butt (whatever that is) for the ridiculously low price of $3.34 for almost six pounds. That's a lot of ham sandwiches.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Career Opportunities
As my loyal readers know, I've been on a fruitless search for a new occupation. Yesterday, that search ended. At long last, I have found a vocation. It all started with a trip to my local Aldi.
I'd never before set foot in an Aldi. I knew it was some kind of grocery store but it always seemed, well, scary. Extremely late model cars populate its parking lot. It lacks windows, looking like a repository for weird, sad, experimental foods. Its shopping carts sit chained together, mocking their potential users. I knew it was some sort of European chain, and I've been to grocery stores in Europe. Scary.
It turns out that Aldi is a medium-sized box filled with strange brands of cheap food. Munkin Dimes brand brownie mix, for example. BunKiss raisins. You get the drift. But they had actual Pringle's, in the largest can I've ever seen. Industrial-sized Pringle's, for about two bucks. It's a warehouse-type store, so once the boxes are stacked the employees have nothing to do but to sit at the cash registers eating Pringle's while they await customers. As I wandered the aisles looking for recognizable food stuff, the cashiers sat on stools sharing a can, gossiping in their bright yellow smocks.
Finally, I thought. A job for which I am qualified. My PhD provides few real-world marketable skills, but I can wear a yellow smock and eat chips made from dehydrated potato flakes just about as well as anyone. As luck would have it, Aldi was hiring. After a brief interview with Toot, the Assistant Manager and Cashier in Chief, I was hired and fitted for my smock. I'll even be making the minimum wage in addition to the Pringle's!
Sadly, my new schedule won't afford me time for frivolities like blog posts. It's an entire career change, and it's arrived none too soon. So, it's been nice sharing my thoughts this past year, but the time for thoughts is at an end. I'm a working girl now, with no time for the internets. If you're in the neighhborhood, though, stop by for some chips with me (and Toot). We'd love to sit with you and catch up.
Not even Wikipedia can state with certainty the origin of April Fool's Day or of the prank. The best guess is that some folks were a little slow to adopt the Julian calendar and continued to insist that April 1 was New Year's Day. These people were called fools. I've been called a fool for a lot less, so despite the cliche some things do change. Whether or not you've got a New Year's hangover, happy April Fools.
I'd never before set foot in an Aldi. I knew it was some kind of grocery store but it always seemed, well, scary. Extremely late model cars populate its parking lot. It lacks windows, looking like a repository for weird, sad, experimental foods. Its shopping carts sit chained together, mocking their potential users. I knew it was some sort of European chain, and I've been to grocery stores in Europe. Scary.
It turns out that Aldi is a medium-sized box filled with strange brands of cheap food. Munkin Dimes brand brownie mix, for example. BunKiss raisins. You get the drift. But they had actual Pringle's, in the largest can I've ever seen. Industrial-sized Pringle's, for about two bucks. It's a warehouse-type store, so once the boxes are stacked the employees have nothing to do but to sit at the cash registers eating Pringle's while they await customers. As I wandered the aisles looking for recognizable food stuff, the cashiers sat on stools sharing a can, gossiping in their bright yellow smocks.
Finally, I thought. A job for which I am qualified. My PhD provides few real-world marketable skills, but I can wear a yellow smock and eat chips made from dehydrated potato flakes just about as well as anyone. As luck would have it, Aldi was hiring. After a brief interview with Toot, the Assistant Manager and Cashier in Chief, I was hired and fitted for my smock. I'll even be making the minimum wage in addition to the Pringle's!
Sadly, my new schedule won't afford me time for frivolities like blog posts. It's an entire career change, and it's arrived none too soon. So, it's been nice sharing my thoughts this past year, but the time for thoughts is at an end. I'm a working girl now, with no time for the internets. If you're in the neighhborhood, though, stop by for some chips with me (and Toot). We'd love to sit with you and catch up.
Not even Wikipedia can state with certainty the origin of April Fool's Day or of the prank. The best guess is that some folks were a little slow to adopt the Julian calendar and continued to insist that April 1 was New Year's Day. These people were called fools. I've been called a fool for a lot less, so despite the cliche some things do change. Whether or not you've got a New Year's hangover, happy April Fools.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I Want Candy
When I was a kid jelly beans were my least favorite part of the Easter basket, probably because my mother would buy the cheap crappy grocery store brand. They'd sink to the bottom, to be eaten only once the malted milk eggs, peanut butter eggs, hollow foil-covered bunnies, and even the slowly-hardening Peeps were consumed. But what do kids know? Now that I'm grown and exceedingly saavy, the weeks before Easter are my favorite time of the year simply because that's when the jelly beans come out.
Putting politics aside, we all have Ronald Reagan to thank for the proliferation of Jelly Belly. Unfortunately, I don't think these are particularly good candy; for me, they are too sweet. Around here they also come in packages filled with either 30 or 40 flavors, half of which are gross. Cotton candy? Say what you will about me, but I'm not a two year-old.
No, the best, the supreme, jelly bean is produced by Just Born. They're the good folks who also bring you Peeps and Mike and Ikes, and as gross as those two candies are, the jelly beans are as great. They are medium sized, of medium firmness, slightly but not too sweet, and well enough flavored that you can actually taste the difference between them. The yellow actually has a taste reminiscent of lemon, the orange of oranges, the green of...something green. Better yet are the spice variety, particularly the clove, which actually tastes like clove, and the wintergreen, which can double as a breath mint.
Just as you're thinking I'm ridiculous and obsessive for writing an entire post about jelly beans, let me lead you to this site, or this one. I am not alone. Just Born is located near me in Bethlehem, and I happen to know someone who works there manufacturing Peeps (in particular, she puts the eyes on them, which is a job deserving of a blog post all its own). I have inside information that the jelly beans aren't made year-round, so if you see them in a store near you, pick some up while they're available. It's what Reagan would have done.
Putting politics aside, we all have Ronald Reagan to thank for the proliferation of Jelly Belly. Unfortunately, I don't think these are particularly good candy; for me, they are too sweet. Around here they also come in packages filled with either 30 or 40 flavors, half of which are gross. Cotton candy? Say what you will about me, but I'm not a two year-old.
No, the best, the supreme, jelly bean is produced by Just Born. They're the good folks who also bring you Peeps and Mike and Ikes, and as gross as those two candies are, the jelly beans are as great. They are medium sized, of medium firmness, slightly but not too sweet, and well enough flavored that you can actually taste the difference between them. The yellow actually has a taste reminiscent of lemon, the orange of oranges, the green of...something green. Better yet are the spice variety, particularly the clove, which actually tastes like clove, and the wintergreen, which can double as a breath mint.
Just as you're thinking I'm ridiculous and obsessive for writing an entire post about jelly beans, let me lead you to this site, or this one. I am not alone. Just Born is located near me in Bethlehem, and I happen to know someone who works there manufacturing Peeps (in particular, she puts the eyes on them, which is a job deserving of a blog post all its own). I have inside information that the jelly beans aren't made year-round, so if you see them in a store near you, pick some up while they're available. It's what Reagan would have done.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Blog Posts, 75% Off
If you have any disposable money, go buy something. I actually bought something yesterday, and then stocks went up, because I'm just that powerful. They probably crashed again by the end of the day, I don't know and am afraid to look. But in the short run, buying things is good. If you haven't been shopping lately, here's a secret: the entire world is on sale. Seriously, nearly every item in every store was on sale. The one advantage to being worth 60% less is that things in turn cost 60% less. Go shopping, people. There must be something you need, and there's surely something you want. That is all.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Retail Theory
I'm used to seeing stores erect their Christmas sections right after Labor Day. I don't like it, but I'm used to it. I'm the kind of person who takes one holiday at a time, in order, and the rush to Christmas seems to me to give, say, Columbus Day the short end of the stick. However, I didn't realize until yesterday that spring actually begins in mid-January.
My local big-box bulk discount store has already set up its spring garden section. Who cares if the yard is full of ice? It's time to buy Miracle Grow and plastic "Grecian" pots! Is there a better way to celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday than by buying some patio furniture? All of you with flower boxes better rush out this weekend and stock up on marigold seeds; they might be gone by the time you need them in mid-May.
Also, and I learned this the hard way, be very careful with your winter coats. Should a tragedy befall your winter coat in the middle of winter, you will be screwed. Winter is the time to buy shorts, not warm coats. OK, I'm off to shop for some mulch.
My local big-box bulk discount store has already set up its spring garden section. Who cares if the yard is full of ice? It's time to buy Miracle Grow and plastic "Grecian" pots! Is there a better way to celebrate Martin Luther King's birthday than by buying some patio furniture? All of you with flower boxes better rush out this weekend and stock up on marigold seeds; they might be gone by the time you need them in mid-May.
Also, and I learned this the hard way, be very careful with your winter coats. Should a tragedy befall your winter coat in the middle of winter, you will be screwed. Winter is the time to buy shorts, not warm coats. OK, I'm off to shop for some mulch.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Shop, Baby, Shop
The press has a big story this holiday season, and it's all about how we aren't shopping. I don't need Slate or The New Yorker to tell me that the aisles of luxury retailers are empty; a look at my investment statements will tell me all I need to know about anyone's desire to purchase almost anything this Christmas. Nearly everyone I know has either declared a moratorium on gifts or has suddenly discovered the joys of crafts (I haven't researched this, but I would bet that knitting has become a rediscovered pastime). My experience the past few days tells me, though, that people are in fact shopping like crazy. They just aren't shopping at Bergdof's.
In search of a disposable yet presentable platter to take to a pot-luck, I visited two dollar stores on Saturday. The first store stocked no cheap platters of any kind, which didn't deter anyone but me: the place was mobbed. For some reason only one register was open, and the checkout line stretched, no exaggeration, the entire length of the store. This particular place isn't even a very good dollar store, in that very little actually costs a dollar and in that most of their stuff is so off-brand it's a little scary. I next went to my favorite dollar store, where things actually do cost a dollar and where the merchandise looks a little less questionable. Again, the place was mobbed; I got the last available space in the lot, and had to fight my way through the aisles to find my cheap platter and a plush toy for Brody to spend Christmas morning (or at least five minutes of it) disemboweling.
Another place people are shopping is the thrift store. A friend and I went to both thrift stores in town this morning, both of which were hopping. In my experience, the thrift store is always pretty crowded on Saturdays, but this was 10:30 on a Monday morning. Why wasn't everyone at work? Oh, right. Sorry.
What seems clear to me is that everyone wants to spend money, they just don't feel like they have much to spend. It's too bad those stimulus checks went out last May and June, because had they arrived last week, we might see a few more people buying a thing or two priced above, say, five bucks. I'm no economist, but I do know what I see. Americans are shopping. We're just not shopping at the retailers tracked by Wall Street and the media.
In search of a disposable yet presentable platter to take to a pot-luck, I visited two dollar stores on Saturday. The first store stocked no cheap platters of any kind, which didn't deter anyone but me: the place was mobbed. For some reason only one register was open, and the checkout line stretched, no exaggeration, the entire length of the store. This particular place isn't even a very good dollar store, in that very little actually costs a dollar and in that most of their stuff is so off-brand it's a little scary. I next went to my favorite dollar store, where things actually do cost a dollar and where the merchandise looks a little less questionable. Again, the place was mobbed; I got the last available space in the lot, and had to fight my way through the aisles to find my cheap platter and a plush toy for Brody to spend Christmas morning (or at least five minutes of it) disemboweling.
Another place people are shopping is the thrift store. A friend and I went to both thrift stores in town this morning, both of which were hopping. In my experience, the thrift store is always pretty crowded on Saturdays, but this was 10:30 on a Monday morning. Why wasn't everyone at work? Oh, right. Sorry.
What seems clear to me is that everyone wants to spend money, they just don't feel like they have much to spend. It's too bad those stimulus checks went out last May and June, because had they arrived last week, we might see a few more people buying a thing or two priced above, say, five bucks. I'm no economist, but I do know what I see. Americans are shopping. We're just not shopping at the retailers tracked by Wall Street and the media.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Another Report from the Economic Front
Brody ran through the woods Saturday and emerged looking like Julius Caesar, wearing a crown of brambles plastered around his head and to his ears, so I did something I don't ordinarily do: I went to the mall, to get a flea comb to help remove said brambles. School starts today or tomorrow all over the region, so I expected the mall to be crowded with kids and parents buying clothes and whatever. The place was crowded, but it didn't look like too many people were actually buying anything. Maybe the crowds were all there to steal vacuum cleaners.
When money's tight, puppies are probably down there on the bottom of a shopping list. The puppies at the mall pet store therefore tended to be much older than eight weeks, and to be on sale. It's never good to be a puppy in a pet store, but the present economic environment would seem to make it an even worse lot in life. Because the store happened to have a Brittany pup, I spent a few minutes visiting with him and finding out about his history. He's six months old, came from a puppy mill in Oklahoma, and had been shuttled around from store to store; this was his fourth pet store. I asked what happens to puppies they aren't able to sell, but the salesperson claimed not to know. I probably don't want to know the answer anyway. The Brittany was on sale for $399, with an additional $78 off Saturday afternoon.
So, no one was buying pets. While I was there, I thought I'd look for new pair of jeans. Jeans shopping is the bane of the American woman, or at least of this American woman, so it's important to follow through while an urge exists. I went to one of the department stores to check out the selection. The department store was essentially empty; the crowds were circling the mall itself, but not flowing into this particular store at all. I don't blame them, since all I found there were a bunch of Mom jeans. On to American Eagle.
This store was full of teenagers and their mothers pawing through the merchandise, but I was alone back in the dressing area. As crowded as was the store, I was also alone at the cash register, where I found that my jeans were not only on sale, but that I could get a second pair at half off. In other words, people weren't buying despite a pretty impressive sale.
I stopped at the Gap on my way out, just because everything in that store is perpetually marked down to ridiculous levels, and sure enough I found a nice blouse for $7.99. I also found an actual line at the cash register, three people ahead of me, all buying items marked down below ten bucks. Good news for the Gap, a company that has been battered in recent years: it was the only store making sales that afternoon. Bad news for the Gap: everything purchased was on clearance.
I've never been a retailer, but I do know that we are entering the crucial time of year for retailers, that mid-August through Christmas is the time when all the profit for the year is made. If Saturday was any indication, the last quarter of 08 is going to be a bumpy ride.
When money's tight, puppies are probably down there on the bottom of a shopping list. The puppies at the mall pet store therefore tended to be much older than eight weeks, and to be on sale. It's never good to be a puppy in a pet store, but the present economic environment would seem to make it an even worse lot in life. Because the store happened to have a Brittany pup, I spent a few minutes visiting with him and finding out about his history. He's six months old, came from a puppy mill in Oklahoma, and had been shuttled around from store to store; this was his fourth pet store. I asked what happens to puppies they aren't able to sell, but the salesperson claimed not to know. I probably don't want to know the answer anyway. The Brittany was on sale for $399, with an additional $78 off Saturday afternoon.
So, no one was buying pets. While I was there, I thought I'd look for new pair of jeans. Jeans shopping is the bane of the American woman, or at least of this American woman, so it's important to follow through while an urge exists. I went to one of the department stores to check out the selection. The department store was essentially empty; the crowds were circling the mall itself, but not flowing into this particular store at all. I don't blame them, since all I found there were a bunch of Mom jeans. On to American Eagle.
This store was full of teenagers and their mothers pawing through the merchandise, but I was alone back in the dressing area. As crowded as was the store, I was also alone at the cash register, where I found that my jeans were not only on sale, but that I could get a second pair at half off. In other words, people weren't buying despite a pretty impressive sale.
I stopped at the Gap on my way out, just because everything in that store is perpetually marked down to ridiculous levels, and sure enough I found a nice blouse for $7.99. I also found an actual line at the cash register, three people ahead of me, all buying items marked down below ten bucks. Good news for the Gap, a company that has been battered in recent years: it was the only store making sales that afternoon. Bad news for the Gap: everything purchased was on clearance.
I've never been a retailer, but I do know that we are entering the crucial time of year for retailers, that mid-August through Christmas is the time when all the profit for the year is made. If Saturday was any indication, the last quarter of 08 is going to be a bumpy ride.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Technological Advances
When I moved last fall, the size of my living room tripled. All in all this was a good thing. In fact, I moved largely because I wanted a bigger living room. The one downside was my 20-inch TV; you simply could no longer see it from across the room. I set out Wednesday evening in search of an upgrade. At the same time, I'm working on a 4 1/2 year-old computer, and I've been worried about the health of the drives. I also decided Wednesday night to back-up everything and erase and reinitial my hard drive to try to help the computer out. The upshot of all this is that technology is wonderful, and technology at the same time sucks.
Sometimes changing one thing irrevocably alters a delicate technological balance, so that a new monitor screws up the DVR, the surround sound, etc. This was happily not the case. I swapped the smaller TV for a huge HD model seamlessly. In 20 minutes the deed was done, and I was looking at the pimples on the nose of the McNeil Lehrer newscaster. It's all excellent. I can now watch crappy reality television from every corner of the living room. For a moment life was complete.
Moving the contents of my hard drive to an external drive didn't take too long. Erasing and reinitializing the drive, then installing the new OS, took until 1 AM. No problem. However, I awakened yesterday to a computer that didn't have a single application. No Office, no Creative Suite, no Firefox. Everything got moved back, but my history was gone. My bookmarks, my contacts, my address book, my saved emails, my passwords, all gone. It was as if I'd never written or received an email, never browsed the Web. Restoring some semblance of the computer I knew took, literally, all day.
I spent most of my life without dozens of user names and passwords. It used to be that a Social Security number was all I needed. I spent most of my life without even the notion of email. How did it come to pass that I felt deeply troubled at the prospect of one day spent without access to my Netflix queue? And why did I give myself different passwords for different sites? And why couldn't I remember them all? How is it that technology runs my life, rather than the opposite?
It's all done, all worked out. All that's missing is the day of my life that this took. In Eastern cultures today is a lucky day, though, and the Olympics start tonight. I can watch table tennis in high definition glory. I can add Wikis to my dashboard. My new technology will let me get on with the business of living. Or at least the business of living inside my house. Technology hasn't yet figured out a way of coming along when I walk my dog, or of walking the dog for me. It won't be long, though. It won't be long.
Sometimes changing one thing irrevocably alters a delicate technological balance, so that a new monitor screws up the DVR, the surround sound, etc. This was happily not the case. I swapped the smaller TV for a huge HD model seamlessly. In 20 minutes the deed was done, and I was looking at the pimples on the nose of the McNeil Lehrer newscaster. It's all excellent. I can now watch crappy reality television from every corner of the living room. For a moment life was complete.
Moving the contents of my hard drive to an external drive didn't take too long. Erasing and reinitializing the drive, then installing the new OS, took until 1 AM. No problem. However, I awakened yesterday to a computer that didn't have a single application. No Office, no Creative Suite, no Firefox. Everything got moved back, but my history was gone. My bookmarks, my contacts, my address book, my saved emails, my passwords, all gone. It was as if I'd never written or received an email, never browsed the Web. Restoring some semblance of the computer I knew took, literally, all day.
I spent most of my life without dozens of user names and passwords. It used to be that a Social Security number was all I needed. I spent most of my life without even the notion of email. How did it come to pass that I felt deeply troubled at the prospect of one day spent without access to my Netflix queue? And why did I give myself different passwords for different sites? And why couldn't I remember them all? How is it that technology runs my life, rather than the opposite?
It's all done, all worked out. All that's missing is the day of my life that this took. In Eastern cultures today is a lucky day, though, and the Olympics start tonight. I can watch table tennis in high definition glory. I can add Wikis to my dashboard. My new technology will let me get on with the business of living. Or at least the business of living inside my house. Technology hasn't yet figured out a way of coming along when I walk my dog, or of walking the dog for me. It won't be long, though. It won't be long.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Fun Haus
In distance, the Funnel Cake Haus was about 150 yards from our parking spot in Parkingplatz Haus. Measured by time, funnel cake could have been mine within two minutes of disembarkation. I'll be fair and point out that we happened to be parked by the entrance to the Kutztown Folk Festival that led right to a village of fried food hauses; some visitors might have a slightly longer trek in search of funnel cake.
I really wanted to eat at the Hinkle Haus just because I liked the name, but that was one of the hauses selling complete all-you-can-eat Pennsylvania Dutch meals for twelve bucks, and I couldn't do that to myself at lunch on an 85-degree day. I settled for a deep-fried hot dog at one of the Weiner Hauses, while my friend enjoyed a brat from a Bratwurst Haus. I also had some birch beer from the Bier Haus, as well as one of those lemon drinks from the Limon Haus.
The highlight of the day way probably the Petting Zoo Haus, where I communed with some cute baby goats. I've always wanted some goats just because I think it would be fun to watch my dog cavort with them, but Goat Hauses aren't allowed in my city. Petting Zoo Haus also featured some ducklings, and a couple of pigs young enough to still be cute. And also a bunch of terrified children whose mothers insisted they attempt to feed the baby animals; petting zoos and the terror they inspire seem to be something that each generation must inflict on their young.
Otherwise I'd have to say I spent ten bucks to enter a huge Gift Haus. The Festival does have several entertainment tents, and I did watch a folk band playing some cool bluegrass/polka mash-up (and said band featured a nine year-old playing a mean fiddle), a glass blowing demonstration, and found out where I can learn to speak Pennsylvania Dutch, but in the main this was essentially a large Haus of Crafts.
So, I walked by Haus after Haus selling hex signs, straw hats, canned preserves, and woodwork. I helped to stimulate the PA Dutch economy by buying a piece of jewelery at the large Craft Haus (the one located right next to Farmer's Market Haus). In the end, I was happy get back into the car and return to my own haus.
I have only one regret: the Festival features a daily re-enactment of a PA Dutch execution. No, I'm not kidding. There at the edge of the fairgrounds was a gallows and a hearse, and a sign that, to my disappointment, didn't say "Death Haus" but instead said, "The Hanging of Suzanna Cox." They hang her three times a day, but we missed it. Now I'll never know if the execution becomes PA Dutch because they put an apple in her mouth.
I really wanted to eat at the Hinkle Haus just because I liked the name, but that was one of the hauses selling complete all-you-can-eat Pennsylvania Dutch meals for twelve bucks, and I couldn't do that to myself at lunch on an 85-degree day. I settled for a deep-fried hot dog at one of the Weiner Hauses, while my friend enjoyed a brat from a Bratwurst Haus. I also had some birch beer from the Bier Haus, as well as one of those lemon drinks from the Limon Haus.
The highlight of the day way probably the Petting Zoo Haus, where I communed with some cute baby goats. I've always wanted some goats just because I think it would be fun to watch my dog cavort with them, but Goat Hauses aren't allowed in my city. Petting Zoo Haus also featured some ducklings, and a couple of pigs young enough to still be cute. And also a bunch of terrified children whose mothers insisted they attempt to feed the baby animals; petting zoos and the terror they inspire seem to be something that each generation must inflict on their young.
Otherwise I'd have to say I spent ten bucks to enter a huge Gift Haus. The Festival does have several entertainment tents, and I did watch a folk band playing some cool bluegrass/polka mash-up (and said band featured a nine year-old playing a mean fiddle), a glass blowing demonstration, and found out where I can learn to speak Pennsylvania Dutch, but in the main this was essentially a large Haus of Crafts.
So, I walked by Haus after Haus selling hex signs, straw hats, canned preserves, and woodwork. I helped to stimulate the PA Dutch economy by buying a piece of jewelery at the large Craft Haus (the one located right next to Farmer's Market Haus). In the end, I was happy get back into the car and return to my own haus.
I have only one regret: the Festival features a daily re-enactment of a PA Dutch execution. No, I'm not kidding. There at the edge of the fairgrounds was a gallows and a hearse, and a sign that, to my disappointment, didn't say "Death Haus" but instead said, "The Hanging of Suzanna Cox." They hang her three times a day, but we missed it. Now I'll never know if the execution becomes PA Dutch because they put an apple in her mouth.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Letter to the President
Dear President Bush,
Where's my economic stimulus check? It's almost July already. I know my Social Security number puts me near the end of the list, but come on. All my neighbors have been happily filling up their gas tanks and buying eggs and milk, then putting the 68 cents they have left in the bank, while my refrigerator and tank remain empty. I've been dreaming all month of taking a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few things I don't need that have been manufactured in China. Things aren't too great around here, and I need that check to help out.
Plus, President Bush, I've been bored. I just don't know what to do with myself if I'm not spending money! I shot my wad paying for heat this past winter. I know, I know, that was thoughtless and poor planning. I should have put something aside in order to help Kohl's meet its second quarter profits. What can I say? I'm a greedy Democrat, tax and spend and all that. You taxed me; where's my check so I can do some spending? Don't you care about Kohl's? This week "novelty" t-shirts made in Malaysia are on sale for $9.99 and I can't buy one.
Hey, thank you (and your predecessors) for the continuing, decades-long support of United Fruit, though. At least bananas flown up from South America are still cheap. Your unwavering support of pharmaceutical companies has also been a great help to a couple of my neighbors who work for Merck. I don't have much of a prescription plan and had to spend $300 for some Wellbutrin a couple of months ago, but that was just me doing my part for Q1 earnings. It's all good for me in the end, right?
But I digress. I'm honestly just wondering when I'll get that check. Here I am, ready and willing to buy something. Help me out already. I'll even buy some Budweiser to do my part at keeping those nasty Belgians at bay. Sorry I posted this letter on the web rather than putting it in the mail; without my stimulus I couldn't afford the stamp.
Love,
Elucidator
Where's my economic stimulus check? It's almost July already. I know my Social Security number puts me near the end of the list, but come on. All my neighbors have been happily filling up their gas tanks and buying eggs and milk, then putting the 68 cents they have left in the bank, while my refrigerator and tank remain empty. I've been dreaming all month of taking a trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few things I don't need that have been manufactured in China. Things aren't too great around here, and I need that check to help out.
Plus, President Bush, I've been bored. I just don't know what to do with myself if I'm not spending money! I shot my wad paying for heat this past winter. I know, I know, that was thoughtless and poor planning. I should have put something aside in order to help Kohl's meet its second quarter profits. What can I say? I'm a greedy Democrat, tax and spend and all that. You taxed me; where's my check so I can do some spending? Don't you care about Kohl's? This week "novelty" t-shirts made in Malaysia are on sale for $9.99 and I can't buy one.
Hey, thank you (and your predecessors) for the continuing, decades-long support of United Fruit, though. At least bananas flown up from South America are still cheap. Your unwavering support of pharmaceutical companies has also been a great help to a couple of my neighbors who work for Merck. I don't have much of a prescription plan and had to spend $300 for some Wellbutrin a couple of months ago, but that was just me doing my part for Q1 earnings. It's all good for me in the end, right?
But I digress. I'm honestly just wondering when I'll get that check. Here I am, ready and willing to buy something. Help me out already. I'll even buy some Budweiser to do my part at keeping those nasty Belgians at bay. Sorry I posted this letter on the web rather than putting it in the mail; without my stimulus I couldn't afford the stamp.
Love,
Elucidator
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Scoot On
An article in last week's Times indicated that scooter sales are up something like 45% this year. It's about time. I've been a scooter fan for 20 years; my first was a 1986 Honda Spree. That was back in the two-stroke days, when I'd have to feed it both oil and gas. For the past six years I've been scooting around town on a Honda Metropolitan, a bike I highly recommend: it's a regular four-stoke engine, gets around 90 miles a gallon, and is styled to look like a Vespa while costing 1/3 the price to purchase and maintain.
Mine is the smallest scooter available, so my top speed is 40 mph downhill. Even though I can't take it on the highway, the scooter has a number of advantages beyond fuel economy. For now, few enough people have scooters that it's a novelty. Strangers honk, wave, and ask to sit on it wherever I go. The higher fuel prices go, the more popular I am on my scooter. Parking is also incredibly easy. The police in my small city haven't figured out that it's illegal to park on the sidewalk, so parking is particularly easy here, but it's been no problem wherever I've lived. It can fit next to a bike rack, or between street spaces, or between other parked cars. Next to a Smart Car it's probably the best in-town transportation in terms of ease of parking.
I'm off in a few minutes to get the scooter inspected. In PA all pedal-less bikes must be licensed and inspected. This costs approximately $40 a year; my insurance runs me $50 a year. Add in a quart of oil, and you're looking at $100 a year to keep it running. I bought the bike in June, 2002 and thus far have had no other maintenance on it, although at some point I'll need a new battery, tires, brakes, etc. Because I don't use it in the winter I only put around 400 miles a year on it, though, so tires and brakes feel a long way off. In short, a scooter is incredibly economical.
Really, who doesn't want to feel popular, ride a cute vehicle, save money, and reduce carbon emissions, all at once? The rest of the world has known the advantages of scooters for years. Do yourself a favor - find out for yourself.
Mine is the smallest scooter available, so my top speed is 40 mph downhill. Even though I can't take it on the highway, the scooter has a number of advantages beyond fuel economy. For now, few enough people have scooters that it's a novelty. Strangers honk, wave, and ask to sit on it wherever I go. The higher fuel prices go, the more popular I am on my scooter. Parking is also incredibly easy. The police in my small city haven't figured out that it's illegal to park on the sidewalk, so parking is particularly easy here, but it's been no problem wherever I've lived. It can fit next to a bike rack, or between street spaces, or between other parked cars. Next to a Smart Car it's probably the best in-town transportation in terms of ease of parking.
I'm off in a few minutes to get the scooter inspected. In PA all pedal-less bikes must be licensed and inspected. This costs approximately $40 a year; my insurance runs me $50 a year. Add in a quart of oil, and you're looking at $100 a year to keep it running. I bought the bike in June, 2002 and thus far have had no other maintenance on it, although at some point I'll need a new battery, tires, brakes, etc. Because I don't use it in the winter I only put around 400 miles a year on it, though, so tires and brakes feel a long way off. In short, a scooter is incredibly economical.
Really, who doesn't want to feel popular, ride a cute vehicle, save money, and reduce carbon emissions, all at once? The rest of the world has known the advantages of scooters for years. Do yourself a favor - find out for yourself.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Sweat Stains of the Stars
The Style section of the Thursday Times is always packed with useful information. What's new in cosmetic surgery? How do I order my Thanksgiving dinner online? What's it like shopping at a sneaker boutique? When I need these answers, I rely on the Style section. If you're like me, you've been wondering where you could purchase some of Oprah's used clothes, and again the Times delivers, with a story about the Oprah Store in Chicago.
The store is conveniently located across from Harpo Studios, where her talk show is taped, so rabid fans can easily find a place to buy O-themed souvenirs to commemorate their experience. There, shoppers can purchase all manner of accessories and housewares, from tea sets to t-shirts. They can also visit Oprah's Closet, the exclusive outlet for Oprah's hand-me-downs. Is Oprah so popular and powerful a symbol that she can sell anything, even her old shoes? That's a rhetorical question if ever there was one.
The Times reporter interviewed Barbara Jean Hoy, a retired Chicago housekeeper who had purchased a $40 cream-colored blouse. While some items in Oprah's Closet appear never to have been worn, Hoy was thrilled that her blouse contains underarm stains, proof to Hoy that Oprah's armpits had at some point touched the blouse. Overall, this made Hoy feel "great, like you are somebody, like Oprah is touching you."
Proceeds from Oprah's Closet do go to charity, so the second-hand store of the star is not exactly naked capitalism. It still feels somewhat creepy to me. Oprah is an everywoman, a user-friendly celebrity. She knows her fans adore her. She obviously knows her fans will buy anything she's touched. Offering sweat-stained blouses for sale, even to benefit charity, feels like an IPO of intimacy. Fans will buy the clothes to feel close to Oprah, but the fact that the closeness is achieved through a commercial transaction creates distance instead.
However, Oprah's fans are pleased, so who am I to judge? Besides, I'm feeling a little under-capitalized myself. I have some pit and neck stained t-shirts lying around, and I've decided that fans of this blog can purchase them for $20 apiece. Each shirt will come with a certificate authenticating its provenance. Supplies aren't particularly limited, but it's still best to email me today and reserve your treasure from Elucidator's Rag Bag.
The store is conveniently located across from Harpo Studios, where her talk show is taped, so rabid fans can easily find a place to buy O-themed souvenirs to commemorate their experience. There, shoppers can purchase all manner of accessories and housewares, from tea sets to t-shirts. They can also visit Oprah's Closet, the exclusive outlet for Oprah's hand-me-downs. Is Oprah so popular and powerful a symbol that she can sell anything, even her old shoes? That's a rhetorical question if ever there was one.
The Times reporter interviewed Barbara Jean Hoy, a retired Chicago housekeeper who had purchased a $40 cream-colored blouse. While some items in Oprah's Closet appear never to have been worn, Hoy was thrilled that her blouse contains underarm stains, proof to Hoy that Oprah's armpits had at some point touched the blouse. Overall, this made Hoy feel "great, like you are somebody, like Oprah is touching you."
Proceeds from Oprah's Closet do go to charity, so the second-hand store of the star is not exactly naked capitalism. It still feels somewhat creepy to me. Oprah is an everywoman, a user-friendly celebrity. She knows her fans adore her. She obviously knows her fans will buy anything she's touched. Offering sweat-stained blouses for sale, even to benefit charity, feels like an IPO of intimacy. Fans will buy the clothes to feel close to Oprah, but the fact that the closeness is achieved through a commercial transaction creates distance instead.
However, Oprah's fans are pleased, so who am I to judge? Besides, I'm feeling a little under-capitalized myself. I have some pit and neck stained t-shirts lying around, and I've decided that fans of this blog can purchase them for $20 apiece. Each shirt will come with a certificate authenticating its provenance. Supplies aren't particularly limited, but it's still best to email me today and reserve your treasure from Elucidator's Rag Bag.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Dream of My Mother Shopping
I haven't been using this blog as a personal journal, but that's what this entry will be, because the main thing on my mind this weekend (besides the assembly of porch furniture) has been a dream I had Friday night.
I'm in a the central business district of a small town. The town is surrounded by pristine mountains and fields, and all the buildings are either new or perfectly restored. In fact, I don't see any power or phone lines, and the seeming newness of the buildings combined with the lack of modern clutter makes me think that perhaps I've somehow entered the early 20th century. There is no vehicular traffic; the streets are closed off for some sort of parade or celebration, and in fact are teeming with people wandering about.
I follow the flow of people through the streets and run into my mother; she's walking arm in arm with a much younger friend I've never seen before. The friend appears to be about my age, and for a moment I'm jealous and feel somewhat replaced. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I didn't expect to see you." My mother replies that she's doing well, and tells me that I really should get myself some pants that fit me. This is how I know it really is my mother. Literally on her deathbed she complained that I never buy pants that fit me correctly.
I tell her I've been worried about her and want to know how she's doing. Even as I'm dreaming I'm not clear whether or not the me in the dream knows that my mother is dead, and so part of the dream is watching the me in the dream interact with my mother, wondering whether or not I know she's dead. "I'm fine where I am," she tells me. "Don't worry about me." I ask her where she's been living, and she points vaguely down the street and says, "Really, we're both fine here. Don't worry about me, Elinor." We become separated from one another and I search the same few blocks for her over and over again, but she's gone and the dream ends.
She died almost a year ago, and this is the first time I've dreamed of her. I'm pretty certain I don't believe in an afterlife, so I'm pretty certain I was simply telling myself that what is, is, and that I'm the one who is doing fine. But if there is anything to the notion that loved one can reach out from beyond, I'm glad that she's in the world of her childhood, shopping.
I'm in a the central business district of a small town. The town is surrounded by pristine mountains and fields, and all the buildings are either new or perfectly restored. In fact, I don't see any power or phone lines, and the seeming newness of the buildings combined with the lack of modern clutter makes me think that perhaps I've somehow entered the early 20th century. There is no vehicular traffic; the streets are closed off for some sort of parade or celebration, and in fact are teeming with people wandering about.
I follow the flow of people through the streets and run into my mother; she's walking arm in arm with a much younger friend I've never seen before. The friend appears to be about my age, and for a moment I'm jealous and feel somewhat replaced. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I didn't expect to see you." My mother replies that she's doing well, and tells me that I really should get myself some pants that fit me. This is how I know it really is my mother. Literally on her deathbed she complained that I never buy pants that fit me correctly.
I tell her I've been worried about her and want to know how she's doing. Even as I'm dreaming I'm not clear whether or not the me in the dream knows that my mother is dead, and so part of the dream is watching the me in the dream interact with my mother, wondering whether or not I know she's dead. "I'm fine where I am," she tells me. "Don't worry about me." I ask her where she's been living, and she points vaguely down the street and says, "Really, we're both fine here. Don't worry about me, Elinor." We become separated from one another and I search the same few blocks for her over and over again, but she's gone and the dream ends.
She died almost a year ago, and this is the first time I've dreamed of her. I'm pretty certain I don't believe in an afterlife, so I'm pretty certain I was simply telling myself that what is, is, and that I'm the one who is doing fine. But if there is anything to the notion that loved one can reach out from beyond, I'm glad that she's in the world of her childhood, shopping.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
How Do You Spell Recession?
How do you know when you're in the middle of a recession? Is it a sign when your investments would be doing better stuffed under your mattress than they are in the market? Is it a sign when your home is worth less every day? Is it a sign when anyone unlucky enough to be out of work will be out of work for some time to come? How about when Bear, Stearns goes under? None of these has led the Bush administration to admit that we're in a recession. Maybe a study of some different evidence is in order.
My beloved but ugly jacket literally fell apart a week ago, so I thought I'd go to a department store or two to see if they had anything left in clearance. No luck there, it's the wrong season for winter coats. However, I discovered at the mall that each and every retailer is having a fire sale on each and every thing you don't need. 40-inch LCD HDTV? You can get one for under $1,000. Furniture? At least 30% off. Small electronics? Look hard enough and you'll find a blender for $9.99. If you don't need it, it's on sale. I'm no economist, but to me this makes obvious the following: no one is spending money right now. If we were spending money, there'd be no need to give away the store. If we were spending money, there'd be no need to send $600 of our taxes back to us in May.
My torn jacket and I left the mall to run some more errands, and the reasons why no one is buying what they don't need became abundantly clear. We all know how much gas costs these days so I won't narrate my trip to the pumps. I stopped for a slice of pizza in order to avoid grocery shopping while hungry (I made that mistake once and came home with three bags full of meat and no vegetables, bread, or fruit, just meat, so that's a mistake I won't make twice). You might not know this, but the price of wheat has recently skyrocketed, in part due to demand from China. Pizza crust is made from wheat. Nationally, the cost of a slice of pizza has increased 25% in the past month.
Milk, eggs, and produce prices have also risen recently, due in part to the cost of shipping the stuff halfway around the world. Increased grain prices will mean that poultry and beef will cost you more by the summer, assuming you purchase grain-fed meats. All this makes you need a drink, doesn't it? In January, California wines increased an average of $2 a bottle, due to increased production and shipping costs. A blender costs less than a bottle of wine.
No one needs the Federal Reserve to tell them what a simple shopping trip makes evident. When the things you need cost more and more, you can't afford the things you don't need. Inflation of necessities leads to deflation of luxuries. Six hundred bucks a person won't fix it. On the bright side, if you have some cash left after paying your heating bill, it's a great time to buy furniture.
My beloved but ugly jacket literally fell apart a week ago, so I thought I'd go to a department store or two to see if they had anything left in clearance. No luck there, it's the wrong season for winter coats. However, I discovered at the mall that each and every retailer is having a fire sale on each and every thing you don't need. 40-inch LCD HDTV? You can get one for under $1,000. Furniture? At least 30% off. Small electronics? Look hard enough and you'll find a blender for $9.99. If you don't need it, it's on sale. I'm no economist, but to me this makes obvious the following: no one is spending money right now. If we were spending money, there'd be no need to give away the store. If we were spending money, there'd be no need to send $600 of our taxes back to us in May.
My torn jacket and I left the mall to run some more errands, and the reasons why no one is buying what they don't need became abundantly clear. We all know how much gas costs these days so I won't narrate my trip to the pumps. I stopped for a slice of pizza in order to avoid grocery shopping while hungry (I made that mistake once and came home with three bags full of meat and no vegetables, bread, or fruit, just meat, so that's a mistake I won't make twice). You might not know this, but the price of wheat has recently skyrocketed, in part due to demand from China. Pizza crust is made from wheat. Nationally, the cost of a slice of pizza has increased 25% in the past month.
Milk, eggs, and produce prices have also risen recently, due in part to the cost of shipping the stuff halfway around the world. Increased grain prices will mean that poultry and beef will cost you more by the summer, assuming you purchase grain-fed meats. All this makes you need a drink, doesn't it? In January, California wines increased an average of $2 a bottle, due to increased production and shipping costs. A blender costs less than a bottle of wine.
No one needs the Federal Reserve to tell them what a simple shopping trip makes evident. When the things you need cost more and more, you can't afford the things you don't need. Inflation of necessities leads to deflation of luxuries. Six hundred bucks a person won't fix it. On the bright side, if you have some cash left after paying your heating bill, it's a great time to buy furniture.
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