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Feb. 8th, 2005 07:59 amAmherst is the home of four different Wegmans stores, all of which I run into from time to time. Their layouts are as different as the personalities of their Typical Shoppers. The Transit/Klein one is pure East Amherst and I despise it. The women all look like they're from Stepford and the men,... well, come to think of it I'm not sure I've ever actually seen another guy in that store.
The two on or near the Boulevard are probably the most "normal." The more northerly one does draw more of its share of folks from the "Looney Acres" areas of Northwest Amherst, while the one down by the mall is still a major draw for the Ramen-noodles-and-beer crowd coming over from UB. But I've belonged to both those cohorts in the past. They're my people, and I'm comfortable with them.
That leaves the one I probably spend the most time in, on Sheridan Drive on the outskirts of Williamsville proper. What makes its demographic the most interesting is its walking-distance proximity to a bunch of apartment complexes, many of them of the senior citizen variety.
Yet, as I saw and you're about to, it is so unfair to stereotype this demographic, cause it's full of all kinds of thinking. And there's no better place to experience this diversity than in the toilet paper aisle. I'd been sent there on a rather urgent run of business, and saw two separate shoppers from Golden Age Towers picking through the inventory ahead of me.
Twelve-packs of Cottonelle were on sale. I knew this before getting to the display because one of these senior shoppers had totally filled his cart with them. I would've suspected he was planning an old folks' Super Bowl party but it was a day too late for that.
The other older shopper was taking the opposite approach. She was down at the traditional ScotTissue™ end of the aisle, picking up each individual roll from the shelf like it was the tomato bin, giving each of the nominees a shake or squeeze- where is Mr. Whipple when you need him?- before finally settling on the one roll she was gonna buy.
My late sister told me, as she did others in the family before me, that you knew you were on your own in this world when you have to buy your own toilet paper. I am so glad that I've now found my place as a philosopher king on the subject and can add the corollary....
"and you can buy as much or as little as you want."
----
Mmmmm, coffee pouring.
The two on or near the Boulevard are probably the most "normal." The more northerly one does draw more of its share of folks from the "Looney Acres" areas of Northwest Amherst, while the one down by the mall is still a major draw for the Ramen-noodles-and-beer crowd coming over from UB. But I've belonged to both those cohorts in the past. They're my people, and I'm comfortable with them.
That leaves the one I probably spend the most time in, on Sheridan Drive on the outskirts of Williamsville proper. What makes its demographic the most interesting is its walking-distance proximity to a bunch of apartment complexes, many of them of the senior citizen variety.
Yet, as I saw and you're about to, it is so unfair to stereotype this demographic, cause it's full of all kinds of thinking. And there's no better place to experience this diversity than in the toilet paper aisle. I'd been sent there on a rather urgent run of business, and saw two separate shoppers from Golden Age Towers picking through the inventory ahead of me.
Twelve-packs of Cottonelle were on sale. I knew this before getting to the display because one of these senior shoppers had totally filled his cart with them. I would've suspected he was planning an old folks' Super Bowl party but it was a day too late for that.
The other older shopper was taking the opposite approach. She was down at the traditional ScotTissue™ end of the aisle, picking up each individual roll from the shelf like it was the tomato bin, giving each of the nominees a shake or squeeze- where is Mr. Whipple when you need him?- before finally settling on the one roll she was gonna buy.
My late sister told me, as she did others in the family before me, that you knew you were on your own in this world when you have to buy your own toilet paper. I am so glad that I've now found my place as a philosopher king on the subject and can add the corollary....
"and you can buy as much or as little as you want."
----
Mmmmm, coffee pouring.