Shopper Bag Quotes

The city centre was still crawling with Christmas shoppers looking to add to their already burgeoning piles of gifts. To Scott they were like ants at a picnic, teeming from store to store, trailing oversized carrier bags and infants behind them as they went. Scott felt alien in this environment; pulling up his hood he hurried through the crowds, dodging pushchairs, lit cigarettes and charity collection tins.

in English and Arabic. Clearly, even personal shoppers had him pegged as a complete geek. The shopper also managed to find some supplies for our magic bags—blocks of wax, twine, even some papyrus and ink—though I doubt Bes explained to her what they were for. After she left, Bes, Carter and I ordered more food from room service. We sat on the deck and watched the afternoon go by. The breeze from the Mediterranean was cool and pleasant. Modern Alexandria stretched out to our left—an odd mix of gleaming high-rises, shabby, crumbling buildings, and ancient ruins. The shoreline highway was dotted with palm trees and crowded with every sort of vehicle from BMWs to donkeys. From our penthouse suite, it all seemed a bit unreal—the raw energy of the city, the bustle and congestion below —while we sat on our veranda in the sky eating fresh fruit and the last melting bits of Lenin’s head.

Not even the most discerning shopper would doubt the authenticity of a bag purchased from a reputable retailer. The power of suggestion was too seductive, the confirmation bias effect too potent.

...the past year or so that make me think Leigh Anne might be having an affair.” “What kind of things?” “She’s always been a big shopper, but now she’s going several times a week. Always going to Austin or San Antone. I know she does actually go shopping sometimes, because she comes home with bags of stuff. Other times, nothing. She says she was just looking.” “Well, you know, women do that. They can shop for ten hours and come home with one item ...

inside “VIRTUE,” according to George Bernard Shaw, “is insufficient temptation.” But new research on the consumption patterns of the environmentally minded suggests that virtue and self-indulgence often go hand-in-hand. A recent paper* by Uma Karmarkar of Harvard Business School and Bryan Bollinger of Duke Fuqua School of Business finds that shoppers who bring their own bags when they buy groceries like to reward themselves for it. For two years the authors tracked transactions at a supermarket in America. Perhaps unsurprisingly, shoppers who brought their own bags bought more green products than those who used the store’s bags. But the eco-shoppers were also more likely to buy sweets, ice cream and crisps. Psychologists call this sort of behaviour “moral

The city centre was still crawling with Christmas shoppers looking to add to their already burgeoning piles of gifts. To Scott they were like ants at a picnic, teeming from store to store, trailing oversized carrier bags and infants behind them as they went. Scott felt alien in this environment; pulling up his hood he hurried through the crowds, dodging pushchairs, lit cigarettes and charity collection tins.

limp spring onion draped itself over the edge of the wicker basket that displayed the fresh produce in the O’Driscolls’ shop, café and post office. It shared the space with a shrivelled red pepper, while the basket above it held a few sweaty-looking bags of carrots. On the ground was a large sack of potatoes. Brown paper bags dangled from string to allow eager shoppers to make their own selection from the enticing display.

In February 2010, Ad Age reported that Wal-Mart had consolidated its stocked range of food bags from three brands, Ziploc, Glad and Hefty, down to the market leader, Ziploc, and their own Great Value private label offering.3 Pactiv, the makers of Hefty, gained the consolation prize of the contract to manufacture the Great Value products, whereas the owners of Glad lost their entire food bag business in Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart could do this easily as, unlike many other retailers, they consolidate all manufacturer payments into the buying price and pass on most of the benefit to the shopper in lower prices. Retailers who take manufacturer payments to their bottom line are sometimes unwilling to give up the short-term benefit of such payments for the longer-term return of better margins from their private label. The secondary brands that are targeted by private label are usually big payers of trade spend to make up for their lower level of consumer appeal versus the top brands.

Consumers even avoid buying items placed near a product with icky connotations. Grocery shoppers, for instance, have been shown to be repelled by foods—including goodies like cookies—if those items come within an inch of touching garbage bags, diapers, or other products associated with filth or bodily waste.

When the shopping trolley was first invented, it was a complete failure - people were used to either carrying a basket around with them, or asking the grocer to fill their bag with their chosen items. The shoppers didn’t seem to want to try this new method, so the inventor, Sylvan Goldman, hired dummy shoppers to walk around his store with trolleys, and had an employee offering one to patrons as they entered - and yet it still took a long time to catch on!

What's afterlife?" Asher asked, sincerely, indicating a trio of passing shoppers laden with brightly colored bags, who turned up their noses. "There's only life.

Another thing you need to understand is what we now call the “core competencies” of your organization. What are we really good at? What do our customers pay us for? Why do they buy from us? In a competitive, nonmonopolistic market—and that is what the world has become—there is absolutely no reason why a customer should buy from you rather from your competitor. None. He pays you because you give him something that is of value to him. What is it that we get paid for? You may think this is a simple question. It is not. I have been working with some of the world’s biggest manufacturers, producers, and distributors of packaged consumer goods. All of you use their products, even in Slovenia. They have two kinds of customers. One, of course, is the retailer. The other is the housewife. What do they pay for? I have been asking this question for a year now. I do not know how many companies in the world make soap, but there are a great many. And I can’t tell the difference between one kind of soap or the other. And why does the buyer have a preference—and a strong one, by the way? What does it do for her? Why is she willing to buy from one manufacturer when on the same shelves in the United States or in Japan or in Germany they are soaps from other companies? She usually does not even look at them. She reaches out for that one soap. Why? What does she see? What does she want? Try to work on this. Incidentally, the best way to find out is to ask customers not by questionnaire but by sitting down with them and finding out. The most successful retailer I know in the world is not one of the big retail chains. It is somebody in Ireland, a small country about the size of Slovenia. This particular company is next door to Great Britain with its very powerful supermarkets, and all of them are also in Ireland. And yet this little company has maybe 60 percent of the sandwich market. What do they do? Well, the answer is that the boss spends two days each week in one of his stores serving customers, from the meat counter to the checkout counter, and is the one who puts stuff into bags and carries it out to the shoppers’ automobiles. He knows what the customers pay for. But let me go back to the beginning: The place to start managing is not in the plant, and it is not in the office. You start with managing yourself by finding out your own strengths, by placing yourself where your strengths can produce results and making sure that you set the right example (which is basically what ethics is all about), and by placing your people where their strengths can produce results.

If she only knew how many size-seven replacements I’ve bought her. The whole damn closet behind me is filled, not just with shoes, but clothes and bags and… Jesus, I sound like a psychopath, even in my head. I’m not even a shopper. Fucking hate it.

Between 1929 and 1930, one-third of the hard-pressed private agencies went under, unable to raise the money they needed. As Hastings Hart, a pioneering child-welfare leader, pointed out, it was time for government to step in with far more than it had ever done to deal with this unprecedented crisis. In September 1931, with Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt leading the way, the New York State Legislature finally passed the first law giving relief to the unemployed. By the end of December 1933, what was called Home Relief had started all over New York City. This was the beginning of the change from the dominance of private philanthropy to the dominance of public welfare, and the recognition that citizens had a right to expect to be taken care of. But getting help wasn’t made easy or pleasant. William Matthews, head of the Emergency Work Bureau in New York City, protested, “The whole damn theory of the thing is to make relief giving so unpleasant, so disagreeable, in fact so insulting to decent people that they stay away from the places where it is given.” As William Bremer detailed in his book Depression Winters, recipients of private and public charity were subject to scrutiny, told what they could and could not buy, and even accompanied by “voluntary shoppers” who supervised their purchases. Buying cigarettes, beer, candy, pies, and cakes was forbidden. And no cash changed hands. Recipients were given bags of coal and clothing, food tickets, and rent vouchers, and storekeepers were forbidden to give them change in cash.

While her mother worked, Megara took care of their own life- cleaning their rented spaces, cooking so her mother wouldn't have to after a backbreaking day, and minding the money her mother brought home. If young Megara had learned anything from her time with her father, it was to hold on to her drachmas. She counted and recounted what her mother earned and learned to keep a budget for food so that they wouldn't go hungry if they could help it. And though girls weren't afforded school, Meg taught herself to read using the stone signs in the square, stealing Homer's works out of the school-aged boys' bags when she could. She watched the merchants in the market accept payment from shoppers, learning how to count coins and what each one meant.

Wal-Mart is modern America in a nutshell. A busy, air-conditioned bazaar offering products from all over the world at irresistible prices. No one sits on a carpet and haggles with you only because the Grand Vizier has already read your mind and priced the things you want at the prices you want to pay. No human interaction is necessary. Just pile up your sterile metal shopping cart with all the things you need to keep you happy, pay with plastic, and carry them back to your mobile home in your pickup truck, where you can add them to the hordes of other products you bagged on earlier expeditions. We live in a culture where shopping has become a recreational activity and the passive, glassy-eyed stare of the shopper suggests we are all being controlled by some higher authority which has replaced our minds, our souls, our will with a single emotion: the desire to shop.