Sometimes, a transgression becomes a habit. Over the years at the Avondale Sunday Market, I have learnt to watch the matrons shopping at the produce stands and do what they do: pick up and quickly scrutinise each piece before bagging it. If a kiwifruit is too soft, a finger of okra too blackened or a tomato is losing its sheen, it goes back to the pile. This is expected; just don’t take too long about it.
It is less expected in a supermarket, especially the putting-it-back part. The New Zealand way is more to accept that the die is cast when the apple is touched. You own any worm that turns up because it would be rude to return it.
But it’s a hard habit to quit. It would be foolish, similarly, to buy a second-hand record without sliding it out of its sleeve for a look and, ideally, a listen. I’ve learnt to rattle through 20-second needle-drop auditions to try to tell if the music delivers on the promise of an unfamiliar but intriguing label.
But it’s more than just quality control, it’s the actuality of in-person shopping. Trade Me carries none of the buzz of finding something interesting on the shelf of a random op shop. I have been on the internet longer than most people – more than 30 years – but I would rather buy something I can touch first. Even if I must do the transaction online, I prefer to click and collect.
I do realise this makes me something of an anachronism. The doorbell can sound several times a day with courier packages for my young adult sons, who can’t recall a time when there was no internet-connected computer in the house. But the bell rarely tolls for me.
For the past couple of years, we’ve run a pop-up sale at the local bar. It’s a chance to participate in street life and talk to strangers. Selling the same things online? That’s just admin.
The explosion of e-commerce, further accelerated during the pandemic lockdowns, does come with some perils, too.
I do wonder what the need for constant vigilance is doing to us all. Are we becoming, through the process of epigenetics, a more fearful species?
We should probably think more about the degree of threat we live with in the 21st century. It is quite possible to open up Facebook, a platform ostensibly about connecting us with people we know, and see little more than ads from people who aim to steal from us.
Having once had to scramble my way out of a serious scam – it rested on a claim that someone was trying to steal from me – I am particularly wary about this. But I do wonder what the need for constant vigilance is doing to us all. Are we becoming, through the process of epigenetics, a more fearful species?
Sometimes, the scam is simply that the seller will exploit the physical separation from you, the buyer, to sell you junk. This has become more of an issue with the rise of “dropshipping” – a model of commerce in which the apparent seller is in fact not holding any stock but simply forwarding your order to a third-party supplier. Temu, which has thrust itself into public consciousness with a blitz of mainstream advertising in the past year, is full of dropshippers – and their crap.
Perhaps it’s just that because I work from home and rely on stringing together errands on my bike for exercise and mental succour, I like a destination.
I might whip out my phone in search of online reviews for a bottle of wine or an electronic device, but I like to be there when I buy it. Besides, if I’m not in the shop, I’m much less likely to see the phrase “reduced to clear”. And those are my three favourite words in the English language.
