When I was a child and went shopping with my mom, we frequented a butcher shop, a purveyor of groceries, and a bakery, among others. All the merchants knew my mother, welcomed her with a friendly greeting, and did their best to satisfy her needs. It was a social experience everyone enjoyed.
One day, and I remember it well, a new store opened. It sold meats, groceries, and baked goods—all in the same location! It had a parking lot! No longer necessary to find coveted space on the street. It was the first supermarket I’d ever seen.
It was bigger. Was it better? Obviously, it was more convenient than shopping at three or more separate establishments. Of course, you gave up some things. Employees no longer knew your name. There wasn’t the same individual attention to your needs. My mother worried about the effect on her previous sources of food. She mentioned this to the manager of the new enterprise. Of course, she was shopping in his store when she did. He was the epitome of understanding. Certainly continue to visit your other stores, he said. He knew that wouldn’t happen. Within a year the smaller stores were out of business and who knows what happened to those eking out a living from them. So was bigger better—or was it bitter?
What about mergers? I’ve been affected by them many times in this ever-changing world. It happens often with media suppliers and banks, although they are far from alone. Every time a takeover occurs, I receive a glowing letter explaining how the change is going to be wonderful for me. Just before writing this I discovered that an account, in a bank recently taken over, has started to bleed a monthly charge. I’m sure that was made clear in the pages of two-point type that was sent to me. So explain to me how I’m better off. In truth, of course, the goal of the merger is to make it wonderful for those at the top, nor for me. In such situations I rarely notice an improvement in services, but I do see an increase in costs for those services, probably fostered by a decrease in competition. Is bigger better—or bitter?
What about automatic answering systems? I don’t know of anyone who likes them, yet they grow and grow. It used to be, when you called a company, that you’d speak with a human, a situation that’s becoming rarer and rarer. They often drive me nuts, offering a menu of five options when the purpose of my call requires a sixth. Sometimes I can press 0 and get to a real person, but not always. Usually, though, I can inch along some path until the system gets frustrated with my lack of devotion to its rules and tells me it is switching me to a representative.
At last, I hear a ringing that I know is taking me to a true problem solver. Usually the phone is answered immediately and I’m poised to hear, Hello, my name is Linda. How can I help you? But I’m wrong. What I hear is, All of our representatives are assisting other callers. Your call is very important to us and will be answered in the order of arrival. Wow! My call is important to them! This view is reinforced every so often, sometimes every 30 seconds (somewhat annoying), sometimes every couple of minutes (mildly annoying). Sometimes my call, so important to them, is not answered for 20 minutes if I’m crazy enough to hold on that long (outrageously annoying). Who are the worst offenders? Usually the larger organizations. In this case there is no question: bigger is bitter.
What about Amazon? It’s so convenient. And they carry virtually everything. More often than I like to admit, I bring up its website and go through the myriad of options for any object I’m interested in. Along with the reviews I can accomplish so much so fast, especially when compared to wandering store to store and probably seeing nowhere near the selection available on Amazon. Certainly the bigness of Amazon is better! But not for everyone. How many businesses have been closed because they couldn’t compete? Over a decade ago I decided to purchase a large screen TV. I saw the one I wanted in an up-scale electronics store in the neighborhood. The same one on Amazon was several hundred dollars cheaper and came with free delivery and setup. I told the local merchant I wanted to support him and asked what could be done. He was helpless and I purchased through Amazon. The store closed within two years.
Bigger has its benefits. But it’s no panacea. Many have lost their livelihoods, interaction has been marginalized or mechanized, and our social structure will never be as personal as before. How big a price are we ready to pay for convenience? And how much of a say will we have in it?
One day, and I remember it well, a new store opened. It sold meats, groceries, and baked goods—all in the same location! It had a parking lot! No longer necessary to find coveted space on the street. It was the first supermarket I’d ever seen.
It was bigger. Was it better? Obviously, it was more convenient than shopping at three or more separate establishments. Of course, you gave up some things. Employees no longer knew your name. There wasn’t the same individual attention to your needs. My mother worried about the effect on her previous sources of food. She mentioned this to the manager of the new enterprise. Of course, she was shopping in his store when she did. He was the epitome of understanding. Certainly continue to visit your other stores, he said. He knew that wouldn’t happen. Within a year the smaller stores were out of business and who knows what happened to those eking out a living from them. So was bigger better—or was it bitter?
What about mergers? I’ve been affected by them many times in this ever-changing world. It happens often with media suppliers and banks, although they are far from alone. Every time a takeover occurs, I receive a glowing letter explaining how the change is going to be wonderful for me. Just before writing this I discovered that an account, in a bank recently taken over, has started to bleed a monthly charge. I’m sure that was made clear in the pages of two-point type that was sent to me. So explain to me how I’m better off. In truth, of course, the goal of the merger is to make it wonderful for those at the top, nor for me. In such situations I rarely notice an improvement in services, but I do see an increase in costs for those services, probably fostered by a decrease in competition. Is bigger better—or bitter?
What about automatic answering systems? I don’t know of anyone who likes them, yet they grow and grow. It used to be, when you called a company, that you’d speak with a human, a situation that’s becoming rarer and rarer. They often drive me nuts, offering a menu of five options when the purpose of my call requires a sixth. Sometimes I can press 0 and get to a real person, but not always. Usually, though, I can inch along some path until the system gets frustrated with my lack of devotion to its rules and tells me it is switching me to a representative.
At last, I hear a ringing that I know is taking me to a true problem solver. Usually the phone is answered immediately and I’m poised to hear, Hello, my name is Linda. How can I help you? But I’m wrong. What I hear is, All of our representatives are assisting other callers. Your call is very important to us and will be answered in the order of arrival. Wow! My call is important to them! This view is reinforced every so often, sometimes every 30 seconds (somewhat annoying), sometimes every couple of minutes (mildly annoying). Sometimes my call, so important to them, is not answered for 20 minutes if I’m crazy enough to hold on that long (outrageously annoying). Who are the worst offenders? Usually the larger organizations. In this case there is no question: bigger is bitter.
What about Amazon? It’s so convenient. And they carry virtually everything. More often than I like to admit, I bring up its website and go through the myriad of options for any object I’m interested in. Along with the reviews I can accomplish so much so fast, especially when compared to wandering store to store and probably seeing nowhere near the selection available on Amazon. Certainly the bigness of Amazon is better! But not for everyone. How many businesses have been closed because they couldn’t compete? Over a decade ago I decided to purchase a large screen TV. I saw the one I wanted in an up-scale electronics store in the neighborhood. The same one on Amazon was several hundred dollars cheaper and came with free delivery and setup. I told the local merchant I wanted to support him and asked what could be done. He was helpless and I purchased through Amazon. The store closed within two years.
Bigger has its benefits. But it’s no panacea. Many have lost their livelihoods, interaction has been marginalized or mechanized, and our social structure will never be as personal as before. How big a price are we ready to pay for convenience? And how much of a say will we have in it?
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