I went to my local Ralphs supermarket to buy diet soda last night. I've done this scores of times, but this time things went awry.
I buy Ralphs-brand soda largely because of the price. Up until about six months ago, a two-liter bottle cost just 79 cents (plus recycling fees). Then the price went up to 99 cents. I wasn't thrilled, but hey — inflation — I get it.
But last night I was stunned to see the price was now $1.49 per two-liter bottle. In other words, over six months, the price rose from 79 cents to $1.49 -- an 88% increase. That's a helluva lot more than can be blamed on inflation.
Looking at the shelves for alternatives, I saw that Diet Pepsi was just $1.29 — with a "digital coupon." I wasn't quite sure what a digital coupon was, but I was willing to give it a try.
The tag on the shelf said to scan the QR code to get the coupon. I took out my phone and did so, but it only brought me to the Ralphs website, not a coupon. Looking closer, it said to "log in" to get the coupon. Hmmm. I didn't have an account to log in to, so I stood in the aisle creating one — enter email, make password, accept terms and conditions.
That done, I logged in — and it still didn't show me the coupon. In my "cart," I found the coupon listed but no bar code or QR code I could use.
Puzzled, I headed to the checkstand. I found a cashier with no one in line. Perfect. Or so I thought.
As I placed my items on the checkout belt, I asked her how I was supposed to use this online coupon. She took my phone in her hands and started tapping and swiping. I stood there waiting. And waiting. Another customer came up behind me and placed her items on the belt.
The cashier kept staring at my phone, tapping occasionally. Another customer got into line. To say this was awkward would be an understatement. To the other customers, it probably looked like the cashier was simply playing on her phone and I was letting her.
I gingerly tried to suggest moving on: "I guess it's not that easy," I said with a weak chuckle. Then a bagger came along and started chatting with the cashier. "The binder is broken," she said, inviting the cashier to look at a broken binder that was relevant to nothing going on at that moment. The cashier, rather than saying "I'm busy," turned from the phone, looked at the binder and talked briefly with the bagger.
The line of customers behind me grew longer. By this point, I just wanted to get my phone back and leave. Again, gingerly, I said, "If this is too hard, I can just..." Finally the cashier gave me my phone and said, "You need to enter your phone number."
Briefly, I was relieved. I'll just enter my phone number and all will be good. But instead, I got the message, "That number does not work." I checked the number; it was correct. Sigh. I told the cashier and she started tapping again on my phone. I could sense the frustration of everyone watching.
Then she said, "You need to enter a code" and handed me my phone back. What code? I didn't have any code (and never got one). She then said she would enter the discount manually this time.
She had to enter the discount one at a time for each of five bottles. With so many eyes staring at us, it seemed to take forever.
Leaving the store, I made a count of how many grocery stores are closer to my home that this one: The total is four (Target, Vons, Lazy Acres, Trader Joe's). There's also Big Lots, which sells soda. I have options.
I don't need to go back to Ralphs and I won't.
