‘Tis the Season to be Suckered

Friday, November 30, 2007

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

‘Tis the Season to be Suckered

By J’AMY PACHECO

Ordinarily, I enjoy the weeks leading up to Christmas. One of the highlights of the season for me is shopping for gifts for my daughter.

She makes it easy – she pumps out a wish list that rarely contains fewer than 100 items. She confiscates just about every catalogue that lands in our mailbox during November, then spends an afternoon circling things that strike her fancy and typing her wish list.

The beauty of a list like that is it provides plenty of opportunity for the shopper while leaving the recipient with no idea what items will actually make it under the tree.

Her dream item this year was a “hot ticket” video game. She believed it to be a long shot, because we’ve never been moved to have a video game in the house that wasn’t handheld.

But her father recently started commuting between the desert and downtown Los Angeles, essentially becoming a “weekend dad.” I thought the game might be a fun bonding thing for my two techno-weenies to share on weekends. I decided to buy one.

I’d heard our favorite warehouse store had a good deal on them, so I stopped by to check them out. They were gone. A friend mentioned she’d seen the games at a discount store – but they, too, were sold out. I phoned another store on the other side of town, and was assured the games were in stock. When I arrived and asked for one, the clerk looked at me like I was asking for free merchandise. The store had some, she said, but wouldn’t put them out until 8 a.m. that Sunday, when a free-for-all would no doubt ensue. (But she did give me a $3 store coupon for my trouble.)

I had decided it wasn’t worth the trouble when I discovered a store in our local mall had some of the consoles available, at the exact same price the discount stores had charged. I walked in, bought one, and left – all in about 10 minutes.

It felt good to know I had it hidden away in my closet – until I started looking for games to play on the machine. The games are expensive – most are $49.99 – so I was excited when the World’s Biggest Toy Store advertised the games in a “Buy 2, Get 1 Free” promotion. I immediately logged on to the store’s Web site, only to learn the games I wanted were “temporarily” not available, even though three days remained on the promotion.

Shortly after the promotion ended, I received an e-mail saying they were back in stock. I decided that since I wasn’t getting a sale price, I might as well buy them from a retailer that didn’t first try to lure me in with false promises. But before I bought any, I received another offer from the same retailer: if I’d pay with PayPal, I would receive 20 percent of what I spent back next month.

Guess what? When I went to the Web site to order the games, they were again “temporarily out of stock.” I’m guessing they’ll return shortly after the promotion ends.

I’d forget the whole thing, but then I’d be left with a pricey, useless, console in my closet. I thought it would be a fun thing to buy for my family, but the experience is sucking all the joy out of my holiday shopping.

How did we consumers get to be such idiots? Why do we fall for this retail hype that creates a “gotta have it” frenzy?

I remember first experiencing this sometime in the 1980s, when Cabbage Patch dolls were all the rage. My niece wanted one, but they were nowhere to be found – until I stumbled across a stash at a drug store. I remember reading about lives ruined by an inability to obtain “Tickle Me Elmo,” and recall numerous reports of people lining up days in advance to buy electronics from stores that were unable to meet consumer demand.

It’s not limited to retail stores during the holidays. Look at what happened when a bazillion little girls wanted to see “Hannah Montana” in concert, only to learn tickets were sold out in something like 38 seconds – most of them going to ticket brokers who held them hostage for unconscionable amounts of money.

Honestly, it embarrasses me to think how easily we consumers are manipulated into wanting things.

Frustrated, I decided to focus on some of the other 99 items on the wish list. I started with a simple wish – a plastic outdoor toy called a “Skip It.” It has no batteries, no LCD screen, no electronic components whatsoever.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find one in stores. The aforementioned retailer’s Web site says they’re “temporarily out of stock.”

I’ve asked them to let me know when they have more. Meanwhile, I can’t help wondering what it’s going to cost me…