As Waldbaum’s closes up this week, we’re not saying good riddance, exactly, but we are saying don’t let the door hit you on the way out. A recent trip to Key Food – the first in several months — showed us just how eager people are for other options; the store was completely packed, and the manager hopped from customer to customer, dolling out rain checks and information without the slightest bit of annoyance. Despite the crowd, the store was clean and well organized. Weekly circular sale prices, and even some regular prices, were far lower than Waldbaum’s “liquidation” prices. Flashback to the last Key Food visit: there were practically tumbleweeds rolling through the aisles.
Locals have been loyal to Waldbaum’s for decades, yet having been sold to Stop & Shop, the familiar community establishment used the last few days in business to try and squeeze us dry. This was not a real attempt at liquidation, and they were not fooling anyone, except for a few among us in a hurry and desperate for that $3 can of coconut water that used to be $1 before the clearance began. Even the cashiers there said the prices were terrible. There’s an old saying, possibly offensive to Native Americans, but nonetheless containing an appropriate analogy to our big Waldbaum’s squeeze: No one gets more mileage out of a horse than an Apache; he rides him until the horse dies, then he eats the horse and makes moccasins out of his hide. We’re feeling a bit, well, ridden.
Not to say that there weren’t ANY good deals at Waldbaum’s in the last few days. Some of the meat was had at a discount – better hurry up and freeze it – and vitamins were 70 percent off. Though they were probably only 40 percent off of what anyone in their right mind would pay, that was still a significant enough discount to warrant a random purchase of Keratin pills and some children’s Emergen-C. Medicine was listed at 50 percent off, so prices weren’t terrible. But 50 percent off of a million dollars is still $500K.
The liquidation period was extended at one point — from the 10th until the 14th – probably because things weren’t flying off the shelves quite as quickly as had been previously forecasted. On the final day of the store’s existence this week, everything was supposed to be 90 percent off. Let’s do the math together, shall we? If you have a $10 item on sale for 90 percent off, you should pay $1. But if you have a $10 item that rings up at 50 percent off, and you point it out, and they mark off another 40 percent off, you will pay $3 – three times the amount you should, a 70 percent discount instead of a 90 percent one. Cashiers didn’t seem to know how to fix the problem. They also questioned each item on the conveyor belt: are you sure you want that? You know what that is, right? Is this within the expiration date? The friendly advice was welcomed at first, and then it seemed odd, as though they wanted to discourage us from purchasing things so they could get them themselves. Sure enough, as we left the store, we noticed a couple of cashiers guarding the stock they wanted to purchase. Enjoy the maxi pads, ladies. You’re entitled to some discounts, too, we suppose. With minutes ticking away to closing, the staff gathered for photos and watched the last few customers ring up some dented cans of condensed soup.
We didn’t want to make this an editorial that solely complains about Waldbaum’s and the bargains that might have been; actually, we wanted to use this space also to implore Stop & Shop to step up to the plate and take care of the community left abandoned and even abused by Waldbaum’s. It’s not merely a commercial operation to run a supermarket – it’s a form of public service. And this isn’t just the opening of a store – it’s taking over the reins of that horse and riding him in to calmer pastures – maybe even giving him some good hay.
