They’re everywhere–Fedco, Costco, Price Club, and all sorts of other “club” stores that charge a membership fee and claim low prices. The other day I tried to join one of them, but there were a host of restrictive qualifications for membership: you had to work for the state, or be a federal employee, or be self-employed (and bring in tax returns to prove it–a business card wasn’t sufficient). I remain a nonmember.
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What store did you go to? PriceCostco, formed from the merger of Price Club and Costco in 1994, is in fact pretty strict about who it lets in. But the other major player, Sam’s Club, a division of Wal-Mart, has a long list of eligible parties, including Discover card holders, Wal-Mart shareholders, members of the American Association of Retired Persons, even (sheesh) real estate agents. So obviously they’re not too fussy. Maybe the clerk at the service desk just had an aversion to you. Have you recently, like, brushed your teeth?
Warehouse stores started out with what was a novel concept in its own right: self-service wholesaling to small- and medium-size businesses. Unlike traditional wholesalers, they didn’t deliver and didn’t bill (though Sam’s now extends credit). Instead you drove in, got what you needed, paid cash, and carted it off.
On top of that, warehouse store operators are under pressure from the manufacturers and other suppliers they obtain goods from as well as from traditional retailers such as supermarkets. Traditional retailers hate being undersold and give suppliers grief for trading with the enemy. The snootier suppliers also don’t like their products being sold for peanuts. Warehouse stores try to keep everybody placated by arguing that they serve a select clientele, not the hoi polloi.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): illustration/Slug Signorino.
