Big Wally Comes to Town

Our very first Wal-Mart opened in Detroit. Well, not actually in Detroit, nothing opens there. But in the closest suburb, a straight shot down the street from our homestead.

So there I went. For research purposes only, mind you.

It’s big. I knew that, but now I’ve got the feel. Like I knew a steam locomotive was big, but then I saw one indoors at the transportation museum in Detroit, and it was …big. That was my first Wal-Mart impression, and, well, my biggest one.

In fact, I now suspect this is the key to Wal-Mart’s success. Be Bigger Than Everyone Else. Americans are all about big. Big cars. Big money. Big televisions. Big weapons.

It’s got a Subway (no, not public transportation, this is America). It’s got an optometrist (well, so does Sears, Wally.). It may have body piercing and motorcycle mufflers, too. I didn’t begin to explore the outer reaches.

I headed straight for my favorite stuff: food. I compared (apples-to-apples comparisons; in one case, literally) prices to my market, E&L. E&L was cheaper on all 10 comparisons. Bigger is not always cheaper.

I headed out of the fresh food, which must be Wally’s weak spot. There were case-lots of paper towels. I do have a basement, so this could be attractive. I had no basis to compare prices on those. Probably cheap, don’t you think?

A Wal-Mart associate was stocking jars of pickles. Staring at the pickle rack, I asked "I don’t see pickled okra, do you have it?" She offered a blank stare, then "I don’t know" and resumed stocking. Score one for Kroger.

I bought a jar of crunchy peanut butter for $2.39. The kind whose ingredients are peanuts, salt. Kroger has the same Smuckers but no crunchy. My Maggie is choosy. Wally scores a point.
Notice that my research turned participatory. I think it gave me a truer Wal-Mart Experience: immersion science.

I headed outta food, and into the vast expanses of baby strollers, tote bags, and giant beer coolers. I was fascinated with the size of some of those. They could be used in a mystery movie where the body is hidden in a beer cooler. With extra room for 2 cases of Bud Lite. Once again, I had no basis for price comparison. I suspect it’s all cheap. (Am I getting sucked into America’s vortex?)

I am seeking – this is all in the interest of science – an outdoor thermometer. I start testing the friendly associates on where I might find one. Two associates come back with blank stares. A third listlessly says "garden section" in a tone that suggests a wild guess. It does sound like a good one.

The garden associate, when asked, states (I am not making this up; the integrity of science is on the line.) "Did you check each aisle in this department?" I said "Is that what I should do?" The now-familiar blank stare locked on. (Do they program them to look like that trademark smiley face, only dumber?)

I’m getting shop-phobia. Which I suffer from, especially inside malls. I stay out of malls for this reason. My credit card balance is zero, also for this reason. So I head for the check-outs.

I’ve been watching the Wal-Mart ads on TV in preparation for this research. The ads show their vast expanse of check-out lines for your convenience.

Indeed there are many. But ¼ of them are open. The line takes 9 minutes. Wally is copy-catting Kroger: lotsa checkouts, few operating.

I’m safely out. But now I face the final act in the tale of Bigness. The parking lot appears to stretch from Dearborn to Arkansas. And I have forgotten where I parked. Maybe I’m not smart enough to shop there. I’m comfortable with that.

Goodbye, Wally.