The Big B On page 20 of the latest junk mail catalogue from Bunnings (19/10/2005) is a doorlock entry set for $14.01. By chance this week we had a similar lockset fail on the room where we stash stuff collected through the year for filling Christmas stockings and pillow cases.
Normally locksets start at about nineteen dollars, so I immediately decided the fourteen dollar one would be good enough. Ha! In my dreams!
When I looked in our local Bunnings store on Saturday morning there was no sign of them. I asked a Hobbit salesman who lives in that aisle where were they? Bilbo scratched his head, then said he had never heard of them. Furthermore he had never heard of the brand either. I asked another of his tribe who was nearby and he was similarly amazed, and then checked the computer system. No such animal existed in the wild woods as far as he was concerned. Looking at me as if I was some sort of idiot, he added there were plenty of other locksets to choose from.
"This looks like another example of bait advertising." I said. "Oh no." he responded. "If you look at the bottom of every page in the catalogue there is a statement, "Some advertised services and products not available at some Bunnings stores, but may be ordered." He stabbed at it with his finger, again looking at me as if I was some sort of idiot.
"Can your computer tell me which stores have them?" I said. There are twenty Bunnings outlets in the metropolitan area, all owned and operated by the parent organisation Wesfarmers. "No!" he firmly replied. He also added again there were plenty of other lock sets in the store to choose from. I replied that they were all at a much dearer price.
Still mumbling about bait advertising, I left him to his gloating and made my way back to the lock section. I knew when I was defeated. Bunnings had lured me into the store with an offer too good to be true for something I needed urgently. Santa's Cave could not be left unsecured for too long. They had me by the short and curlies.
I don't like going to Bunnings stores very much. The displeasure starts as soon I walk in and am obliged to respond to a security person, usually a woman, who beams at all customers as they enter and disingenuously asks, "How are you today?" I regard such inquiries as an impertinent intrusion, and usually look in the other direction pretending I don't hear; or I simply grunt incoherently.
I have a mind one day to reply along the lines of, "Well seeing as you ask, I feel bloody terrible, and your disingenuous question gives me the urge to open lots of sealed packets of stuff on your shelves without actually making a purchase."
I don't really do this sort of thing, but others do. Most shelves have many such items, especially in the electrical and lighting department. After being violated they then sit there in limbo for years. No one in their right mind would buy such "soiled" merchandise at top dollar, and Bunnings do charge top dollar on plenty of items.
They have long advertised a "Lowest prices guarantee. If you happen to find a cheaper price on a stocked item, we'll beat it by ten percent." This a ploy which can be difficult to take advantage of.
Its not worth bothering for small items. Life is too short. They know it. But large-ticket items like lawnmowers could be worthwhile. Matching up the exact model is the trick.
The best way to have win is to take along a competitor's catalogue with the desirable item illustrated, then shove it under their nose. Even so, they will often telephone the nearest outlet to ensure there is actually stock on hand and that the model number is absolutely identical. The Bunnings tacit philosophy is that the customer is to be distrusted at all times.
They've recently started a bogus scare-scheme on the loudspeaker system to deter shop lifters. It's a randomly generated series of announcements with as a female voice saying things like, "Security to Section C!" A few seconds later a male voice firmly answers, "Security to Section C acknowledged!"
Where Section C is, or whatever other section is cited is always a mystery to customers. They are supposed to gain the impression that wherever they are in the store they are being spied upon and better behave themselves. I usually hear the announcements one or two times during a visit. My guess is that there are dozens of recorded variations on some sort of digital storage device programmed to operate randomly.
The giveaway is that you hear the same voices in different stores. Kmart have also introduced the same stunt in their emporiums, and the voices may well be of the same actors. Of course, if they were dinkum alerts, the stores wouldn't use the loudspeaker system to telegraph such security operations.
Nowadays Bunnings have completely dominated the Australian hardware scene. Most of their competition has been monstered under the pressure of the past ten years. I don't know of any other actual "hardware" stores anymore, although there may be some. The only competition I'm aware of comes from the accidental efforts of places like Big W and Kmart, and that's not very much.
Having made a purchase at Bunnings, there is the reminder that they no longer give you a bag to carry stuff away. This, they claim, is their contribution to the betterment of the environment.
Never mind that they encourage the manufacture of huge quantities of merchandise at exploitive sweat shop prices in places like China and India; and regularly publish a 24 page newspaper-sized multi-colour junk-mail catalogue, which is probably delivered to every letter box in the metropolitan area. Well after all the name Bunnings was synonymous with ruthless exploitation of Western Australian native forests before they got into hardware. Something has to be done with those darned trees.
Then there are the onerous security-woman types to pass on the way out of the store. They tacitly regard every customer as a potential thief and deliver their disingenuous smiles and farewell greetings as they inspect receipts and scrutinise customers from top to bottom, "Thank you for coming. Have a nice day. See you later."
Arghhh!
I notice I had a rant about the Big B on
January 20. Sorry about that, but I feel much better now.
© MMV Paul R. Weaver.
About the writerCheck out each month's subject index on the Calendar Page for my "common-man" monologues about survival in 21st century Australia – plus a little history occasionally. An original essay is added most days.
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