opinion

Supermarket sweep-under-the-carpet

MIRIAM DUNN PONDERS ON HOW, AS THE WORLD GOES CONSUMER-MAD, SHOPPING AROUND HAS BECOME A THING OF THE PAST

You know there’s something very rotten in the state of supermarketland when you manage to park right outside the sliding doors.

And your suspicions increase three-fold when you realise there is no need for you to fight fellow shoppers for an empty trolley or begin negotiating your trip down the first aisle in the same way you would tackle an army assault course.

Of course, once you begin making your trip around the supermarket, the reasons for your easy-induction into the store are evident.

There’s no smoke without fire and, more importantly, there’s no shoppers without food. Am I off my (empty) trolley I asked myself?

Are the GRTU on holiday, have they accidentally let me in on a Sunday? For, as I wandered further into this ghost town of an establishment, I realised that the trolleys were not the only empty receptacles; the shelves, the freezers and, I would imagine, the cash registers were in a similar state. Staff hung around with nothing to do but shift the little produce there was here and there, so it looked slightly more attractive and abundant – a challenging job I can assure you. Others appeared to be doing something similar to stocktaking, an even more demanding task on the grounds that there was no stock for me to take, or them to write down.

I have now given my local branch of The Price Club two or three chances over the last few months to restock its shelves and offer me the opportunity to actually buy some of what I need.

Now, on the grounds that I am very busy, certainly not regarding my once-a-month shop as an excursional treat in the way some people seem to, I have been forced to shop elsewhere. I am not prepared to keep returning to what have become retail white elephants – huge outlets that have nothing for sale, brimming with shelves that are completely empty, with shoppers unable to pick up even the most essential of items from a chain that once prided itself on the choice it offered its customers.

The current scenario is a fascinating one.

I remember interviewing a Price Club high flyer when the supermarket chain was at the height of its glory, full of plans to expand, with some of its competitors deeply concerned about the monopolistic position the company looked set to hold in the market.

We want to offer a wonderful shopping experience, with extensive choice and good, competitive prices, my interviewee said.

And it certainly appeared to be working.

I remember going to the chain’s new premises at Tal-Qroqq when it opened, and being unable to park, obtain a trolley or get anywhere near the lifts to explore the upper floors of this self-professed consumers’ mecca. The whole shop was packed, as were all the customers’ trolleys, irrespective of what day of the week it was.

So what on earth went wrong?

As usually happens here, the chain has remained fairly tight-lipped about the situation, only answering questions when pressed, rather than volunteering information which its loyal customers, who, when there’s anything on the shelves to buy, regularly spend hundreds of pounds, deserve.

I’m sure I’m not the only shopper that raised a sceptical eyebrow when looking at the ‘out of order’ notice attached to the empty freezer. What, exactly, had broken down, was the question I asked myself, the freezer or the management of the chain?

Our own newspaper, which has covered developments of the Price Club’s downfall extensively, has reported that the owners hope to bring in foreign investment to help rescue the flagging chain.

As a solution, this cannot happen soon enough; valuable customers have already been lost and it may well take some time to win them back.

But it still doesn’t explain how such a successful project went completely pear-shaped.
What we do know is that in many cases of empty shelf syndrome, importers and manufacturers have made a decision to stop supplying, on the grounds that they are concerned about the amount of credit building up.

The terms cashflow and credit management are buzzwords among our business community and also those that write in the media about the problems the sector is facing, including our own business paper. Just last week, in an interview I carried out with Parliamentary Secretary Edwin Vassallo, which was featured in our freshly relaunched The Malta Business and Financial Times, the issue came up. Mr Vassallo blamed accountants for promoting the practice of holding back payments and doing business with other people’s money, saying we needed to move away from this culture.

To an extent he is right; there is no doubt that such a practice can produce a vicious circle, or cycle, in that, if everybody holds back from paying their bills, the economic merry-go-round grinds to a halt.

But it is also a way that business is done, the world over; credit terms are nearly always sought and granted, be they 28 days or three months.

The problems begin when no one abides by them and this is what can lead to a complete breakdown in the chain.

Larger companies might weather the storm of holding out for payments, but the smaller ones probably won’t.

Recently, creditors, it seemed were facing a hurricane, but they very wisely made a decision to get some strength, and hopefully some money, by sticking together and forming themselves into an association of credit management.

That’s a good move, although for now, it doesn’t help us shoppers, who are at present having to drive inane distances if we want to find a large supermarket where there is a decent choice available.

The situation is quite surreal. On our last trip, we waited half an hour to get into the car park, had a tug of war with another couple for the last trolley and, nursing bruised ankles, calves and thighs, gave up trying to get round only half the aisles before closing time.

Certainly not the type of shopping experience I would want to repeat, nor that which the owner would have wanted me to have, I would imagine, on the grounds that I will only return there out of necessity, not choice.

But then, this owner probably never envisaged he would be welcoming customers and their cash from every corner of the island.

And I am sure his smile is wry as he recollects the inevitable concern he must have felt on hearing, just a few years ago, that the Price Club giant was spreading its feelers in his direction.

I, for one, would like to see the supermarket chain get back on its feet, for selfish reasons (my last shopping expedition was about as enjoyable as a trip to the dentist), and also because I, like many, have a genuine concern about how the current crisis must be impacting the workers, suppliers and economy in general.

But let’s hope that people learn lessons from what went wrong. The Price Club venture looked like a sure-fire success when it began. If it has plummeted, we should all ask why, whether we are employees, suppliers or consumers.