SAMS 101

I have little doubt that several Ph.D. dissertations could be written without leaving a shopping warehouse---and I wouldn’t be surprised at all to hear that several already have been. Today, I made my bi-monthly journey to the exurban Sam’s Club. I returned with my usual assortment of mass quantities that will easily fulfill my antiperspirant, box-wine, peanut butter, sock, soy milk, and toilet paper needs for weeks to come. I also returned with enough grist for the blog mill to keep me rambling even longer. (It seems doubtful I will use it all, so you probably need not fear the dreaded senior level seminar class, SAMS 450.)

Who would focus their doctorate work at Sam’s or Costco or BJs? Sociologists, economists, psychologists, marketers, demographers, anthropologists, and probably a few kinesiologists (I bet there’s some real science behind properly lifting a 50 pound sack of flour) among others. And even those who aren’t looking to add “Dr.” before their names can learn something too. For one, New York Times columnist David Brooks has already applied his special brand of comic-sociology to warehouse shoppers and other residents of suburbia in On Paradise Drive (and much of this post is an homage to that master observer). Politicians know there’s value in buying bulk too. Unlike Michael Dukakis who was politically pummeled by W’s dad for being a “card carrying member of the ACLU,” John McCain is proud to display his Costco pass.

What can one learn about America in two hours at Sam’s? Lots. Here are some of the topics that I could (but probably won’t) explore further.

(1) Marketing Psychology.
Sam’s isn’t a store, no it’s a club. We like to feel special, and even though there is no secret handshake, lots of us pay $40 a year for the privilege of shopping in a big hangar.

(2) Economics and World Trade.
Sam’s might as well be called Chinatown. It’s been a long time since Mr. Walton wrapped himself in the flag and promoted the “Bring it Home to the USA” slogan. That campaign highlighted American companies that were selling goods at Wal-Mart even as the retailer’s more prominent “Always Low Prices” mantra pushed most production to more and more distant shores.

Today, the Walton family doesn’t even put up a false front anymore. Most everything I touched was made in China; from the $10 clothes and shoes, to the $40 cookware, all the way up to high-end-looking wood furniture that cost $500 or more a piece---and these days the country of origin for the electronics, including $2000 plasmas, goes without saying.

Whether the “Made in China” label is a sign of a drunken materialistic bender soon heading for a nasty hangover or just the benefits of globalization (what Milton Friedman might have called “gifts from abroad”) I will not try and decide today. I will confess that despite my general aversion to Chinese goods, every man has his price. Mine apparently is $8.92. That was the discounted rate for some Perry Ellis casual slacks. Sweat-shop, smet-shop, I scoured through every remaining pair unsuccessfully looking for a bargain that fit. Which leads me to the next big thing that Sam’s teaches us.

(3) Public Health.
We are a fat nation. Sam’s illustrates this because (1) there are lots of morbidly obese people pushing their oversized buggies through the wide aisles and stopping to get a free sample of a high fructose corn syrup based product; and (2) it is hard (and sometimes impossible) to find 32/32 sized pants, yet there are plenty of 38 and 42 inch waist sizes. Could the 5 pound boxes of breaded mozzarella sticks and mega-size bags of chocolate chips (both of which I have purchased in the past) have anything to do with this? Nah, of course not.

(4) Demography.
We are still a nation of immigrants and a nation with widening ethnic diversity. On my trip, I was greeted by a heavily accented Asian man; I passed an Hindu woman in traditional flowing attire; there were stacks of Spanish Bibles for sale; I checked out behind two Arab gentlemen (one who didn’t speak much English, the other who whipped out a crisp $100 bill after the first's debit card had problems); my checker was an African-American woman; and as I exited my receipt was verified by a man who appeared to be Pakistani. Bargain hunting brings us together though. Warehouse stores are the true American melting-pot.

(5) Work Ethic.
Some people still take pride in their work, no matter what the job. Above when I said I was checked out by an African-American woman, well, that was a bit of a fib. The lady who took my credit card looked more likely to have roots around the Mediterranean , but my time with her was limited to about 30 seconds (prompting an amazed “that was fast” from the customer behind me) thanks to the friendly and efficient black lady. With mobile scanner in hand, she was zapping through baskets on multiple lines and enthusiastically directing people with a single item or two off to secret checkers in jewelry and optical (yes, you can get your eyes checked at Sam’s---I believe the current special is three eyes for the price of two). I noted approvingly that she seemed to have a good system going, and she quite humbly accepted the pat on the back. We could use more “can do” people like her (more interested in getting the job done right than getting credit) on Capitol Hill, rather than just in the northern Virginia ‘burbs.

(6) Ecology.
Despite Sam’s being a temple to mass consumption, we as a people are starting to take to this “green” thing on as a nice hobby. You can now buy Ecos laundry detergent (biodegradable soy based product great for efficient spinning washers), organic milk, cage-free eggs, clipboards proudly made of recycled material, and compact fluorescent light bulbs---all in bulk quantities. You can even purchase a four foot high painted concrete “St. Francis Bird Feeder” for $55. Actually, you couldn’t, because, other than the floor model, they were sold out. (I’ll take the run on the monk from Assisi as a positive sign.) There still were plenty of solar pathway lights available right beside him, though, so you can light your own trail to environmental enlightenment even if the cemented saint can't join in anymore.

Obviously, I too am a part of this confused mindset. I, tree-hugger and consumption critic that I am, drove 30 miles to shop warehouse style on a Saturday afternoon rather than wake up in time to walk to the morning farmer’s market a half mile from my house. I’ll argue (perhaps only half-heartedly) that buying in bulk reduces transportation impacts overall, and you can‘t get socks and $10 leather sandals (to be worn separately I assure you) from your local farmer. But the real truth probably lies in the one item that I put in my pocket and didn’t pay for.

A stand in the food section was distributing---not samples of coconut shrimp or glazed chicken---but the final resting place for much of what was being sold at Sam’s today. The exchange went like this. The nice older fellow at the table said, “Here you go.” “Oh, a free garbage bag,” I replied. “Glad bag,” he kindly corrected.

I suppose the trademarked name is quite appropriate. In the end, trash still makes us happy. Until that changes, I expect Sam's will continue to be fertile academic ground.