Attention WinCo shoppers

Carissa and I both work outside the home and have for nearly all of our twenty years of marriage. Over time a division of labor has emerged concerning domestic chores. This division of labor has allowed each of us to develop expertise at a set of tasks that leads to a higher level of labor efficiency. Our household experiment roughly follows the “specialization of labor” economic theory first identified by Adam Smith.  Back in 1776, in The Wealth of Nations, the Scottish economist and philosopher argued that economic growth depends upon a division of labor that allows specialization of the labor force so that workers become expert in isolated areas of production, thus optimizing efficiency. It’s a little known fact that Mr. Smith developed this theory in an effort to ensure that Mrs. Smith would forever be responsible for emptying the family’s honey bucket. 

"It’s a little known fact that Mr. Smith developed this theory in an effort to ensure that Mrs. Smith would forever be responsible for emptying the family’s honey bucket." 

Our household follows this theory, with a few exception. After years of waiting for the other to develop a specialization in cleaning the toilet or mopping the kitchen floor, we finally gave up and hired outside specialists for those service. But generally, Mr. Smith would approve of our system. For example, Carissa is in charge of getting kids to doctor and dentist appointments. She pays the bills. She is responsible for laundry. (My laundry duties ended the day I dried a sweater on the “high” setting that turned out to be a) her favorite, b) expensive, and c) made of wool.) She also deals with customer service representatives because I am too polite and she is more than happy to crush all who fail to address her grievances. I am responsible for lawn care, snow removal, trash removal, compost management, lunch packing, and dinner preparation. (My dinner duties started after once-too-often explaining to Carissa that the stove has a temperature setting other than “high.” She handed me the keys to the kitchen and said so does the drier. I understood a tiny bit how the customer service reps must feel.)

In addition, I do the grocery shopping, an intriguing assignment because it satisfies my impulse to find order in things. You can (in theory) break grocery shopping down to its component parts and develop best practices and standardized methodologies. I shop once a week, every week, on Sunday afternoons, at the same WinCo grocery store downtown. I work swiftly, efficiently, in a counter-clockwise direction from entrance (ignoring “Wall of Value” distractions) to check-out (ignoring magazine covers tempting me to keep up with the Kardashians). Before embarking on my weekly mission, I prepare a meticulous list of items grouped by the order in which I will encounter them on my sweep through the WinCo. The goal: maximize use of time and minimize effort. Pursue perfection. I am a sleek, grocery-acquisition assassin, coldly, systematically executing my task of snatching my targeted item without slowing even as I anticipate the next item on my list and the item after that. I am an unstoppable force. This is specialization of labor in practice. 

Except when economic theory confronts the laws of physics. Specialization of labor as applied to grocery shopping only works until the unstoppable force encounters an immovable obstacle. The hard truth is that not all shoppers appreciate Adam Smith and his economic theories. Rather, too many of them are people who park their shopping carts sideways in the snack aisle as they scratch their asses and stare slack-jawed at the Doritos’ display, struggling to decide between Cool Ranch and Nacho Cheese.


The nemeses (nemesises? nemesi?) of all competent grocery shoppers are well known to us. (If not, then you are part of the problem and you should seek immediate help). Here are a few I routinely encountered : The middle-aged, over-dressed, over-medicated woman who haphazardly parks her cart at random and stares blankly into a spot between the cabbage and cauliflower. Young lovers on their first shopping experience together, the young man spooning with the young woman, all but surgically attached to her from behind, as they slowly push a nearly empty cart down the center of the aisle. Fussy label inspectors (usually old guys with ponytails) who block an entire aisle while comparing the fat free Ranch dressing to the sugar free Ranch dressing. Parents who allow children to bully them into selecting those shopping cart/built-in playroom assemblages that ought to require a pilot car and wide load signage to operate. There are others, but I’ve nearly reached my Daily Rant Quota (DRQ)™. And I don't want to open another Whiny Bitch™ debate.

I don't have any answers to the problem of individuals who interfere with shopping efficiencies.  But something obviously needs to be done. Perhaps what we need is research by a modern day Adam Smith who can help grocery stores to incentivize individuals to engage in efficient shopping practices or, conversely, to disincentivize individuals to engage in inefficient shopping practices. A Nobel Prize in Economics awaits.