Secret origin of this column

By ARTHUR VIDRO
What It’s Worth
There’s more to consumerism than a customer making a purchase.  Sure, that’s part of the equation, but a full look at consumerism involves delving into misleading advertising, unfair pricing, violations of privacy, and even illegal actions such as soliciting money for non-existent charities or bogus investments.

It also involves budgeting, debt management, payday loans, and understanding the Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security systems.

Here are some of the basic tenets of this column:

Good customer service ought to be recognized, acknowledged, and saluted.

Unsatisfactory customer service ought to be recognized, pointed out, and remedied.

Everyone – retailers, employees, and customers – should be treated fairly and with respect.

Someone needs to look out for the customer.  Ideally, the customer herself can do this.  As the saying goes, “Let the buyer beware.”  But an informed buyer is more likely to beware.  This column aims to inform.

Sometimes a store’s service is great but the merchandise itself is useless, inferior, or flat-out dangerous.  What are the customer’s rights in such scenarios?

The world is filled with scam artists and hucksters, and modern technology does more to help than hinder them.  (Before computers came along, identity theft was rare.)

Also, is there any rhyme or reason to the pricing structure of prescription drugs, where every customer is seemingly charged a different price?

•    •    •

My first meditation on consumerism came when I was about 4-foot-12. Everyone else in my family worked, and I was often left to my own devices to prepare my evening meal. Fortunately, money was left for me to make purchases at the nearest supermarket, an A&P about a half-mile away. I’d stroll over and get what I needed, which usually was cottage cheese, cream cheese, bananas, and Bellacicco Italian bread.

Once I wanted a package of Kraft cheese-product slices that I had seen advertised at a very low price in the store’s circular that came to our home. I went to the A&P’s dairy section, spotted a huge store-made sign that promoted Kraft cheese, and took a package from beside the prominent sign.

Just to double-check, I glanced at the price sticker. (Those were the days before bar codes, when grocers put price stickers on each and every object.) Alas, the sticker did not reflect the sale price. I scrounged some more. None of the packages in the big display by the huge sign reflected the sale price. Also, the thickness of the slices, and the weight of these packages, deviated slightly from the particulars in the circulated ad. This was not the item that was on sale.

Nowadays, with bar codes on all items, a shopper wouldn’t even know she wasn’t holding the on-sale item until the price rang up at the register — and might even exit the story never knowing. (Bar codes save time and labor for the grocer but create occasional problems for the savvy shopper.)

It took some sleuthing, but eventually I found the item specified in the ad — in the extreme rear of the refrigerated bin, with non-sale items shielding the bargain-priced cheese from a customer’s casual search.  

I took a package — the right weight, the right slice thickness, the right price — and despite some innate shyness, approached the manager to explain that the item for sale was buried out of sight, and that the huge promotional sign was directing customers to the non-sale version. In my innocent youth, I expected the man to thank me and remedy the situation.

Instead, he looked at me as if I were an irritant.

“What’s the matter?” he grunted. “You found it all right, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I conceded, “but other people might not be able to.”

“Why should you care about them?” And then he walked away.

I did care, even though I felt ineffectual.

But now, a tad over 40 years later, I’m helping the cause of consumerism.

Stay tuned.