The reason for shopping
A guy can sit at a farm auction all day, drinking percolator coffee from a styrofoam cup and eating homemade pie with a plastic fork, when he doesn’t need a single thing on the sale bill. He can drive for the umpteenth time through a dealership, hopping out to check features and prices that are posted on vehicle windows, even if he doesn’t need a new half ton.
He can lose himself in the back section of Menards, spend hours checking Kelley Blue Book options online, and memorize the standard packages of 12 different bass boats. Hunting gear? Golf clubs? Don’t even get me started.
But let a woman wander innocently into HomeGoods, carrying a list of items she must have before the holidays, and she has a chronic shopping problem.
I’m exaggerating, of course. And referencing ridiculous gender stereotypes. (A little.) But it’s occurred to me that the real allure of shopping is not gender specific at all. It’s socializing. It’s the thrill of the chase, the research, the networking to find a good deal. That’s human, and it can happen online at Kelley Blue Book, or over coffee and pie at an auction. It can happen in the comments section of an item review, or by admiring a lamp in someone’s cart and learning where to find it.
Shopping is about connecting. Not long ago, I ran into some family members at Walmart. We stopped a moment to catch up before realizing we were blocking an elderly man’s progress toward the canned soup.
“Sorry. We were having a little family reunion there,” I said, moving my cart so he could pass. He smiled and waved off the apology. My family group and I said our farewells. A few aisles later, I encountered the man again.
“Don’t worry about that, about having a family reunion back there,” he told me. “I lost my brother in 2023. It goes quick. You should take all the time with family that you can.”
I thanked him. I told him I was sorry about his brother, and we spoke awhile longer. We moved on, but for the next half hour, we kept bumping into one another. I learned a bit more of his story. It was a heartwarming set of conversations. I know it’s not appropriate to hug elderly men at “the Walmart,” but by the end, I was tempted.
“Enjoy your shopping,” I said as we parted for the final time. If we’d had coffee and pie, we’d have chatted away the rest of the afternoon.
On another Walmart visit, a young woman in her mid-20s flagged me down near the mayonnaise. “Do you know how to make potato salad?” she said. She seemed a little triggered. I could see two bags of russet potatoes and a few onions in her cart.
“Use the recipe on the jar,” I said, summoning what ancient lore I could, as related to potato salad. “Make sure it’s Hellmann’s. And don’t be afraid to use the hard-boiled eggs. That makes it creamier.” A man wearing a driver’s cap overheard us and walked over. His cart contained mostly fresh vegetables. “Use red potatoes,” he said. “Then just follow the recipe. You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you!” the girl said. “You saved me. Nobody was planning a graduation reception for my niece, but she needs one. So I’m having it. I volunteered for potato salad. I had no idea what to do.”
She left with her Hellmann’s, on the way to exchange her russet potatoes for red ones. The gentleman and I exchanged a silent nod. Strength and honor; strength and honor. Maximus himself could not have imparted more culinary courage.
Do we shop, just to make a purchase? I don’t think so. I think we shop to feel connected, to “hunt and gather” with our community, to have some coffee and pie. I think it shows we’re human. And that’s not a chronic problem..