A PLOY?

With money tighter, you would think that I would pay more attention. It’s those combination-tables that do me in. You know the ones I mean? They catch your eye in a grocery or general shopping mart, which is my term for a Wal-Mart/Target/you-want-it-or-even-if-you-don’t-we-got-it store?

There they are, those combination-tables, tastefully decked out, often in the middle of an aisle where you have to make a detour to keep from hitting it and knocking whatever is piled there helter-skelter...

Oh! Am I the only person who has ever done that? And with no little tykes close enough to blame either?

So, these combination-tables are sporting the HUGE sign with a GREAT DEAL PRICE written in giant red or black or fluorescent orange paint, and Great Scott! Gouda Cheese for $2.50?? And name brand too? Hell, yes!

I grab 4 of this fantastic specially priced cheese and put them in my cart, not even noticing the cans of tuna and the boxes of crackers sharing the space, so intent was I on the thought of savoring a favorite dairy product without busting my budget.

I continue my speedy shopping (that’s how I do any shopping unless it’s in a bookstore) and when I arrive at checkout I load my purchases on the conveyor belt, nearly kissing the gouda as I place it lovingly, one round on top of the other . The cashier rings it all up and claims an amount at least $25.00 more than I had calculated mentally as she passed things over the scanner.

“What??? You must be mistaken. Let me see that slip, please.” She slowly goes down her screen, item by item, and the clients behind me shuffle impatiently. As she calls them out I hear her say “4 Gouda at $8.50 each...”

“No! No!’ I interrupt her. “There’s your mistake. The sign says on special at $2.50.”

The young cashier looks baffled, then picks up the speaker and her request for a price checker echoes through the store. Those in the line behind me are glowering by now, except for one smart-ass man who calls out, rather rudely, that it was the crackers selling at $2.50, and not the Gouda, and that one should read the smaller print on those signs; his ‘if one is reasonably intelligent’ was implied, if not actually stated.

Sorrowfully, I instruct her to remove 3 of the Gouda. She seems somewhat confused - a newbie, I guess – and her attempt to credit the charge requires help from a supervisor, and I hear the grumbles and mumbles as some customers move to another line and others heave sighs of exasperation. It was quite embarrassing.

So I should have learned, right?

Well, today I told Helen how I had seen lined rubber gum-boots at the Giant Tiger store on sale for $8.00, absolutely perfect for walking the doggies in our present weather, and we both agreed that was a super saving, and she wisely figured that we could both use them so let’s go get them now before they were sold out. We drove all the way to town, and sure enough, there were only 6 pair left, so we felt fortunate that there was one pair the right size, and neither of us took heed that they were sitting on a combination-table with some long sleeved sweaters and whatever else that was stocked there. We picked up a few other things and when we reached checkout, Helen insisted on paying the total which came up to...how much???

Once again the line behind me shuffled their feet as I told the cashier that the boots were advertised at $8, not the $29 she had punched in, and, once again, I was reluctantly forced to concede that if I had read the small print on the ONE sign which had a HUGE $8 on it, I would know that the sale price was for the sweaters, not the boots.

I left the boots there – I can get them for $15 at Yellow Shoes down the street. I can’t help but question how many times, when finances were easier, I have been fooled into paying a higher price because of a combination-table setup? Helen hadn’t realized how much more the total amount was. That leads to my wondering if the stores do it on purpose, aware that many people won’t read the tiny writing under the glaring sale price. If the customer doesn’t notice at checkout, good show! If he does notice, well, it’s a customer mistake.

On the drive home, Helen interrupted my venting. “The lady behind us had a pair of those boots too, and when she saw what happened with us, she didn’t buy them either.”

Ah! Not only consolation for my wounded pride, but I now feel like a Good Samaritan, and that brings back my SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.