Walmart, the Internet, and the End of Life as I Knew It

Growing up, I was a bit of a mallrat. For a kid from a small town, the mall was like a city unto itself. If you needed, wanted or lusted after it, it was at the mall. I would spend hours in those glorious temples of the almighty dollar sign, going from store to store in search of that one item that neither I nor anyone else had. I would haunt the aisles of book stores searching through sections that interested me. I scoured racks of albums for hard to find or import albums, or find those bands that I had never heard of. And then there were the video stores, where I could find the movies that were off the beaten trail – b-movies, foreign films, cult horror, all treasures for me to find.

And the most magical part of these stores was one simple thing: The Human Element. While it was pretty common to find the clerks in these stores to be nothing more than a high school kid who would rather ignore you that help you, there were those employees that went out of their way to help you, and had quite the working knowledge of whatever their store sold, be it movies, music, books, or anything else your heart desired. And on a really good day, you could spend hours in a shop talking with like-minded customers who could point you in the direction of new, uncharted ground when it came to underground music, little-known books, or movies that no one else in a three county radius had ever heard of. I could often be found picking up tapes or CDs of bands I had never heard of just on the recommendation of someone else who was of the same mindset as I was, or stocking my bookshelves with new tomes that were sure to appeal to my sensibilities. And I myself was often able to give suggestions to others who might be in need of a little help in finding those hidden gems.

But in the 1990s, Walmart decided that they wanted to be the number one retailer in the world, which meant selling products at a much cheaper rate than specialty stores could. However, the caveat was that you had to accept the products on their terms. Albums were edited for general consumption, so as to not offend the fainted hearted, and the variety of albums was seriously lacking. And their book and video sections only carried titles that were guaranteed to sell, and were again selected for the average shopper, who may file a lawsuit if they were forced to walk past something that may be offensive. While most shoppers went along with it for the convenience of “one-stop shopping”, there were still those of us that were willing to go out of our way for more obscure and unabridged pleasures. We could still go to those stores that catered to our needs.

Alas, the Internet saw to it that those needs could be filled without ever leaving home. Amazon.com rose to become a behemoth in the world of retail, and had everything you could get at those specialty shops and more. Eventually Walmart got in on the act, and now you can order anything you would normally go to the store for hand have it shipped to your house. Then there was Napster and the file sharing craze, which killed so many brick and mortar shops. Now, you can download a new book, album or movie to your iPad, phone or any other electronic device, and never have to deal with those smelly people again. You can make your own playlist of songs picked from any assortment of artists, read your “book”, text your bffs, and enjoy your worry-free day without pesky clerks or annoying customers getting in your way. Really, who wants to have a conversation with complete strangers about any of that anyway?

Well, dammit, I do! I want to have the option of going into a record shop and having long, drawn out conversations about music, or sit in a book store and have deep discussions about the writings of authors I love, or to have someone personally recommend something for me to read. I want to go into a video shop and have the guy behind the counter point me in the direction of a movie that I might not have otherwise seen, because he knows what I dig, and can relate. Instead, I can go to any website and have automated recommendations, or those annoying “Shoppers who purchased this item also purchased…” lists. Sure, they get it right some of the time, but all you get is a title, and then some customer reviews, most of which read as though they’re written by an elementary student who hasn’t had his Ritalin. There’s no warmth in those recommendations, no love for the product. When I sit and talk movies or music or books with someone, I can gauge their reaction, and I can see the excitement when they talk about a movie or album they really loved and want me to check out. That human experience has been replaced, and we’re a sorrier world for it. As it stands, the only real bastion of community left is the comic book shop, where I have been known to spend hours talking comics, comic book movies, cult movies and television, and might only spend a few bucks on one book. But it’s that conversation that makes the experience worthwhile. True, the big comic companies have always had those who would rather subscribe and have their issues sent to their homes, and now with the dawn of the digital comic, you can download those just as easily as you could the works of Lovecraft or the latest Megadeth album. But I’m not ready to give up that last sanctuary I have left, where anyone can go in, physically pick up a book, and have the guy behind the counter say “If you like this, check this title out”. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to give up all of my humanity just yet.