Amazon Conditioning…
In the 1970s, UK mail order catalogues like Kays, Littlewoods and Grattan were the closest thing we had to Amazon; but forget next day delivery or next week — you had to wait 28 days for your purchase to arrive! And let’s not forget the weekly visits from the Avon lady… *ding-dong*
Five decades later and we’ve become a nation accustomed to convenience. The age of the internet has made us comfortable, dare I say, lazy. Pioneers like Ebay and Amazon set high expectations for modern living. I did a quick search for Grattan and amazingly enough found they’d survived and still serving us 100 years later via the internet! Littlewoods and Argos also made the smart move to go online.
Most people when they hear the name ‘Amazon’ automatically think of the online store, forget the poor old rainforest! It’s the top result on all search engines; it’s become a household name, the ultimate hypermarket embedded in the pysche of the planet. Parents no longer chalk up heights for their growing offspring but mark the moment they start browsing for their own nappies/diapers!
We no longer spend our Sunday mornings in furniture showrooms trying out sofas, we just sit on a sofa at home and scroll through the Amazon pages. We scroll and scroll, hours go by, still we’re scrolling — suddenly, we’re no longer browsing sofas, but have drifted continents. The indoor sofas have morphed into garden cane furniture before ending up at cat condos and instant french door and conservatory security locks. Dazed, you stumble into the kitchen to find the cat hasn’t been fed and has dragged out a wedge of white bread, is sitting in the corner attempting to masticate white paste (planning to release a live mouse in your bed at 2am…)
OMG! How long have I been browsing?
In a panic you go back to the first page of sofas, click on the first sofa which is the Amazon best choice, and they’re right, it IS the best buy! Oh, you guys! Why didn’t I trust you before? You do all the hard work for me, saving me time doing all that endless scrolling! To complete the purchase you use the 1-click method. Perfect. Mission accomplished. Apologise to the cat, make treat promises. You place your order and expect it to arrive in half an hour. The whole process is magic. This is Amazon conditioning; this is the Amazon spell.
Talking of spells, did you know that Amazon was going to be called ‘Cadabra’ — as in abracadabra? But one of their lawyers made a judgement call; it sounded too much like ‘cadaver’… That was close, that could’ve been a real dead loss for business!
I’ve been with Amazon since they started selling books in 1995. I was probably one of the first to become a Prime member. ‘I’m a Prime member’, I would say proudly, as if it’s an exclusive club. Are you a Prime member? Yes, I’m a Prime Member. But have you been with Amazon as long as I have? That makes me a Prime Prime member! Well, I’ve watched them grow up and they’ve almost taken over the retail world and everyone relies on them. Their free shipping policy, as great as it is, has made us crazy, fucked up people. We’re mad for free shipping! Give me free shipping. What is it? I don’t care, as long as it’s got free shipping. Regular shops are pitted against Amazon’s free shipping. Even if it’s the only company making that unique product, we’ll find something similar on Amazon… after all, I do get free shipping…
It’s led me to have unrealistic expectations.
I went to the Post Office recently with a large consignment of books, about 85kg, it cost me about £150, you see, I’m an Amazon seller - I’m not just a Prime member, that makes me part of the company doesn’t it? I sell things on Amazon and I get to take toilet breaks whenever I like! Anyway, I found myself saying to the Post Mistress when she announced it was £150 - how much? What, no free shipping? But I spent over £25. No wait, I don’t have to worry about the minimum spend of £25, I’m a Prime member, I get free shipping for everything. I’ve just spent £150 with you, I want my free shipping, it’s my right as an Amazon customer!!
Hang on, I’m an Amazon customer, a Prime member, and an Amazon seller… I CAN’T RISE ANY HIGHER!
I have passed the test, I will diminish and go into the west and remain Avalina. Existing solely on replays of the Barry Manlilow album: ‘Here Comes the Night’, and those mild green, pickled chilli peppers you tend to find in kebabs, which for interest you can buy on Amazon in a pack of six, 400 gram jars (gasp) I know too much… I’ll start from the beginning… In the ethereal realm of online retail, in the land of the Americas, in the fires of Mount Doom, New Mexico, the Dark Lord, Jeff Bezos, forged in secret a master company to control all others, and into this company he poured his time, expertise, his money and his will to dominate all life…
Amazon first started selling food in 2011, it was a bit gimmicky the idea of posting milk half-way across the ogin. No-one thought it would amount to much, so consequently they’d be bargains available such as food close to its sell by date. I’d get a whole box of crisps for 50p. Now people are used to Amazon food shopping and the only food bargains available are 50 packs of sickly sweet royal icing, six kilograms of loose-leaved basil tea or 10kg of medical grade epsom salts… But there is a part of you that considers it… because you can’t resist a warehouse deal…
Amazon are so desperate to be considered top in customer service that if food arrives damaged, they refund you and they allow you to dispose of it as you wish. That’s incredibly trusting, isn’t it? I wonder how many abuse that trust? Sometimes they give you a free shipping label to send it back. Goodness, is there no end to their generosity? Free shipping to the customer and free shipping back, aren’t they just the best company in the world? Such a caring gesture. How they’re not broke, I’ve no idea!
What’s that clapping I can hear? Oh, that’s just Ayn Rand’s laissez faire admiration from The Great Beyond! All this aside, I do rely on Amazon. I’m a self-published author and very glad of their services in this area. I also live on a remote island, so I regularly spend over £100 a month on food and anything else I can’t get without a great hike or having to pay a phenomenal shipping fee (which is most things these days).
I admit it, I’m a self-confessed, fully conditioned Amazonite.
