Shopping. It just ain’t what it used to be. 

I remember vividly the days leading up to a new school year.  My mom and I would spend most of a day cleaning out my closet, casting aside the items that no longer fit so they could be donated, and making a list of things to be purchased.  There were two lists; one was the practical “need” list, the other the “want” list.  On the want list were things I perhaps yearned for that I would have to save my own money to purchase. My Dr. Scholl’s wooden sandals were on my want list. Mom was convinced I’d break an ankle if I wore them and she hated the clomping noise they made.  But I coveted them, so after saving chore and babysitting money, months later I proudly went out and purchased a pair.  Happy to report no broken ankles but plenty of clomping.

Items like practical pants and school supplies were on the approved need list, so mom and I would plan a day to venture forth for shopping, which invariably involved much trying-on of clothing, comparisons of binders and folders for practicality and durability and plenty of bargain hunting.  Sometimes we were successful, sometimes not.  Because in those days, if what we were looking for wasn’t in the first store, we either drove to another store, found a substitute, waited until the item was in stock, or just went without. 

I miss the days of roaming the mall or department stores. Because “going to the mall” was a thing. When not doing practical shopping with mom, we’d meet friends and spend a whole afternoon “malling”.  There may not have been much actual shopping done (we were all on limited teenager budgets) but there was entertainment, activity, people to see, giggling to be done in the back of Spencer Gifts, and unhealthy food to consume – nothing like having a cinnabon or slice of pizza then washing it down with an orange Julius.

With physical real-time shopping, we get to actually see, touch and feel something and speak to real humans. Plus there’s always the dopamine rush of finding something great on the clearance rack in the back of the store — which is a far more heady experience than swiping through Prime Day on Amazon. That’s why generally when I get together with my girlfriends, some good ol’ fashioned shopping is on the agenda.

That said, the new age of digital shopping has its advantages — namely availability, convenience and speed; and I am regularly amazed with how far we’ve come.  Call it laziness, call it overwhelmed scheduling, call it multi-taking on turbo – call it what you will, but sometimes a few keyboard clicks or phone swipes make life so much easier. 

Recently I was in search of a dozen 5-gallon buckets for a backyard game I was putting together for a party.  My husband and I happened to be in Home Depot and thought their buckets were a bit spendy for what we needed.  When we got back into the car, I pulled up Walmart on my phone, determined theirs were less expensive, plain white, and I could reserve them and pick them up the next day. Nifty.

Twenty-four hours later, I received an alert about my pick up time and after letting the ninja app robots (NARs)  know my location and how soon I’d be there, I was on my way.  Minutes later, I pulled in, let the NARs know where I parked and in less than 5 minutes a nice young man delivered my buckets to my car.  He apologized that they didn’t have 12 in stock, only 7, which wasn’t an issue because the NARs had already informed me of the situation. I was thrilled that I did not have to wander my way through the “supercenter” in search of my items — plus I had already paid online, thus making the whole transaction easy-peasy.  Before leaving, I glanced around and saw a few other R.W.’s parked in the pickup area, a variety of goods being loaded into their cars.  I wondered if this was a regular thing for them –is this how they get their groceries?  Are they also trying to knock out a whole bunch of chores on a weekend and needed to save some time?  Did some have sleeping babies in the car? 

Riding on the high of convenience, I next visited the friendly NARs of Target regarding the balance of buckets I needed. Not only did they tell me the price and quantity available, but exactly where they were located in the store, what aisle number and even popped up a map. How handy.

Editorial note: While I could have just run in directly to the ABL (Aisle Bucket Location) OR waited and had an NAR-led delivery person bring them to my car, I chose to browse in person a bit and pick up a few other items — hence feeding my in-store shopping therapy fix.  Mom would have been proud of my $15 sundress I found on the way to the buckets.

I returned home after a successful but blessedly short outing.  While having lunch with hubby, I remembered one other small item I had meant to pick up. I pulled up Amazon and three clicks later the item was on its way to arrive on my doorstep the next morning.

There is a whole generation now for whom this is the norm.  They’ve never known a time when you couldn’t just order something from the palm of your hand and have it magically appear at your location.  I still think I’m all trendy and cool (or spoiled and frivolous) when reach out to a NAR on my phone and within minutes my favorite beverage is waiting for me alphabetically on the cafe counter when I swing by on the way to work.   Anti-social?  Kinda.  Spendy?  Certainly.  Convenient?  You betcha. 

I chuckle thinking about how mom would be a bit aghast if she could experience now what shopping has become. Limited personal contact, no way to touch and feel the quality of something before it arrives at the door, minimal effort, no thrill of the hunt, and clearly feeding into a rampant issue of impatience. But after that shock, I know she’d appreciate the time savings.

And don’t worry mom, some things never change.  I still make need vs. want lists.