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[ 8 minute read ]
My Strange Village
My village is near other villages. We are not remote so if you fall into the pub, covered in snow from a blizzard, the locals won't go silent and, as one, turn towards you with suspicion on their minds.
'Oo are you?'
'They're not from round 'ere, are they?'
You won't hear that in my village. We are used to not recognising people and, because we don't have a bypass, any one of you might stop at our Post Office shop. That shop is not like the ones you might find in hamlets such as one I stayed in Ireland (Eire). There, the Post Office was in the same house as the shop and the pub. You could go in the pub in the evening and buy a tin of luncheon meat or a loaf of bread. Maybe you wouldn't buy both at the same time though. I think Irish people are not rude. But, in that hamlet everyone knew each other, so making a cheeky sandwich wasn't something they might have done to avoid buying one over the pub counter anyway.
I hitch-hiked to that Irish hamlet, and the chap who stopped for me was driving the first car that came along. I told him I was going to Knockavilla.
He wryly smiled at me, "You wouldn't be going anywhere else." It is pretty remote in some parts.
He stopped a few times along the way, at a few houses, exchanging or trading a couple of rabbits or a cake or something else. It is possible he was just the local link between friends, who lived a distance apart.
My village is not like that. My village has another village no more than three miles away in all four of the compass point directions. My village is also five miles from a city. You can't leave my village without entering another village with its own shop straight away. It is possible to escape, but if you cross the main road that bisects my village and one to the south, you will instantly be in another village. There are no gaps. The shop, the only one in my village is a fascination to me. I am interested in marketing, but have only used my knowledge for my own business, and that only evident online and through signage on my vans and lorries. Of course, marketing extends through customer satisfaction and word of mouth as well, and a myriad of other ways.
The shopkeeper is from Sri Lanka, and although he has had three shops before he opened this shop in my village he still has had to feel his way in this particular region. I live in a village with almost no social housing. I think he has not given enough time for wealthy home-owners to recognise what he has to offer. I can cook, and although I don't tend to eat any meals that one might ascribe to any region of the world, I will mix up ingredients to suit my own palate. This shopkeeper, I think, has a lot of experience of a lower socio-economic group than the locals here. I suggest, might have never lived alongside or originated from. I exaggerate a bit, but they might see the Asian staple foodstuffs in the local shop as belonging to a lower socio-economic class that is India or Pakistan or Afghanistan, especially in light of the shopkeeper being from Sri Lanka. Of course, they also might not. So that probably means that only I do, but only because I am aware of poverty in India, the second most populous country in the world. But that is where my thoughts stop. Asian staple foodstuff belongs to the world, just as potatoes, tomatoes and maize, or corn, from South America belongs to the world.
He tried cheap cakes on us; we didn't bite. I told him that I am the poorest person in the village and wouldn't buy cheap cake. I don't buy cake anyway; but if I did, I wouldn't buy cheap cake. He has started to throw away less cake now that he stocks quite expensive cake. The expensive cake is sold before the sell-by date. He does, however throw away packaged sandwiches.
One of his chill cabinets has broken down. It is right at the front of his shop. It has been like that for over a month now. You know, the silver covering pulled down to preserve the chill overnight. Not a good look. That is where he kept the milk. The price he sells milk at, £1.69 for 2 litres, is not even a loss-leader (something that retailers sell at a loss to get customers into the shop). He makes a profit on it. At the moment, he keeps the milk at the back of the shop away from flighty customers' gaze. In fact, it is the last place a browsing customer would go to. It is in the furthest corner in the alcohol aisle. Along with it are the snacks that builders working in the area might buy for lunch, or the very small number of office workers working in the adjacent dentist, or the minders from the playgroup over the road. You get the picture; if you are not from round 'ere, you won't find the packaged sandwiches or Ginsters pies. Pretty dismal isn't it? Like I said, he throws a lot of packaged sandwiches away.
I pointed out to him that the locals only buying newspapers are probably never aware of the price of his milk. They are probably not aware he sells milk now, either. You see, the chill cabinet where the milk was kept is on the same wall as the door to the shop (in the front side corner). Most people continue to drink cow milk beyond their childhood and so they continue to produce lactase to break down the lactose in milk. I suggest that people who buy newspapers are not young people, and just might have milk in their tea in the morning while they read the paper. However, I never see newspaper purchasers buy milk in my local shop. They walk in and head straight to the newspaper stand with their backs to the redundant chill cabinet where the milk used to be (unseen) and where a small A5 sign waffles on about a broken fridge and the milk is now in the alcohol aisle.
I have studied marketing to FHEQ level 7 Advanced Diploma. I am driven totally crazy by this man's reluctance to market his products. I suggested that the broken chill cabinet is an opportunity to engage his customers in conversation. Perhaps he doesn't like to talk. Perhaps his suspicion of people stems from shoplifters he encountered in his other three shops that he has serially closed, that is if he is suspicious. He might be timid, or not be entirely sociable; many shopkeepers are like that - 'Yeah, yeah! I don't make money from selling a single item. Just give me the money. You haven't paid enough to warrant a conversation.' Too cynical?
I suggested that he advertise the price of his milk with a little A5 chalkboard set up like an easel on his counter. The customer might ask where the milk is and he then has an opportunity to tell them not only where it is but also about the fine choice of charcuterie (Fr. prepared meats) including Polish sausage. I suggested to him that he very much should tell the customers wanting milk about the snacks and , because if he knows they want milk they will seek a large expanse of white from a background of vibrant colour. Once they see the white, they will hone in on it, and not look around. They won't look because they are in the alcohol aisle. The milk is at the bottom of the chill cabinet. The good stuff, that returns more profit, is at eye level, but not for someone seeking milk; they are looking floorwards. They expect to see only alcohol elsewhere. Alcohol is not something they want early in the morning. Because they don't want something they will blind themselves to other things.
The shopkeeper told me that he has entered into a contract with Premier, who will be his main supplier. In doing so, he will reduce his shop floor space by a third to make room for storage, thereby reducing his product range. The question I ask myself is; why has Premier compelled the shopkeeper to reduce his product range and desirability of his shop? Inevitably, the products that will go will be his unique selling point (USP); the Asian staple foodstuffs (Lentils and dried beans; Cassava or manioc; and the herbs, spices and condiments that add flavour). I did a straw poll in my village and there is a growing interest in trying the Asian foodstuffs. My shopkeeper doesn't know this because he won't engage the customers in conversation, or do any kind of market research. In a village close to other villages with shops and close to a city, I suggest, you need to talk.
Why has Premier compelled the shopkeeper to reduce his product range in favour of creating storage space? It is pretty obvious really. More storage space means less frequent deliveries and because he has a low turnover of goods, Tesco, who owns Premier and Booker, and operate articulated lorries for deliveries, don't want to waste money on fuel and driver hours, making frequent top-ups of only a few units of only a few items. Also, being a village it is hard to turn an articulated lorry around. Tesco wins while the shopkeeper loses. Not only that all the villagers lose too.
Only half a mile away, in a neighbouring village, is a Co-op medium size shop which stocks the usual fare and directly competes with all the rest of the supermarkets on price and product range. They sell reasonably priced vegetables. The shopkeeper in my village plans to stock perishable items (vegetables) at Tesco (Premier) prices (not cheap) instead of stocking frozen and dried produce / non-perishable products.
Well, who am I to be confused? I am not going to tell him how or what to think or what to do. I am not going to validate myself by showing him my certificates, or quote Philip Kotler or Seth Godin. I tried my best to point out how I shop. I will just go to the Co-op with the same prices as Premier, but with a wider product range and without the cheap cakes.
My Strange Village
All my posts: https://learn1.open.ac.uk/mod/oublog/view.php?u=zw219551
or search for 'martin cadwell -caldwell' to eliminate caldwell returns (take note of the position of the minus sign) or 'martin cadwell blog' in your browser.
I am not on YouTube or social media
[ 8 minute read ]
My Strange Village
My village is near other villages. We are not remote so if you fall into the pub, covered in snow from a blizzard, the locals won't go silent and, as one, turn towards you with suspicion on their minds.
'Oo are you?'
'They're not from round 'ere, are they?'
You won't hear that in my village. We are used to not recognising people and, because we don't have a bypass, any one of you might stop at our Post Office shop. That shop is not like the ones you might find in hamlets such as one I stayed in Ireland (Eire). There, the Post Office was in the same house as the shop and the pub. You could go in the pub in the evening and buy a tin of luncheon meat or a loaf of bread. Maybe you wouldn't buy both at the same time though. I think Irish people are not rude. But, in that hamlet everyone knew each other, so making a cheeky sandwich wasn't something they might have done to avoid buying one over the pub counter anyway.
I hitch-hiked to that Irish hamlet, and the chap who stopped for me was driving the first car that came along. I told him I was going to Knockavilla.
He wryly smiled at me, "You wouldn't be going anywhere else." It is pretty remote in some parts.
He stopped a few times along the way, at a few houses, exchanging or trading a couple of rabbits or a cake or something else. It is possible he was just the local link between friends, who lived a distance apart.
My village is not like that. My village has another village no more than three miles away in all four of the compass point directions. My village is also five miles from a city. You can't leave my village without entering another village with its own shop straight away. It is possible to escape, but if you cross the main road that bisects my village and one to the south, you will instantly be in another village. There are no gaps. The shop, the only one in my village is a fascination to me. I am interested in marketing, but have only used my knowledge for my own business, and that only evident online and through signage on my vans and lorries. Of course, marketing extends through customer satisfaction and word of mouth as well, and a myriad of other ways.
The shopkeeper is from Sri Lanka, and although he has had three shops before he opened this shop in my village he still has had to feel his way in this particular region. I live in a village with almost no social housing. I think he has not given enough time for wealthy home-owners to recognise what he has to offer. I can cook, and although I don't tend to eat any meals that one might ascribe to any region of the world, I will mix up ingredients to suit my own palate. This shopkeeper, I think, has a lot of experience of a lower socio-economic group than the locals here. I suggest, might have never lived alongside or originated from. I exaggerate a bit, but they might see the Asian staple foodstuffs in the local shop as belonging to a lower socio-economic class that is India or Pakistan or Afghanistan, especially in light of the shopkeeper being from Sri Lanka. Of course, they also might not. So that probably means that only I do, but only because I am aware of poverty in India, the second most populous country in the world. But that is where my thoughts stop. Asian staple foodstuff belongs to the world, just as potatoes, tomatoes and maize, or corn, from South America belongs to the world.
He tried cheap cakes on us; we didn't bite. I told him that I am the poorest person in the village and wouldn't buy cheap cake. I don't buy cake anyway; but if I did, I wouldn't buy cheap cake. He has started to throw away less cake now that he stocks quite expensive cake. The expensive cake is sold before the sell-by date. He does, however throw away packaged sandwiches.
One of his chill cabinets has broken down. It is right at the front of his shop. It has been like that for over a month now. You know, the silver covering pulled down to preserve the chill overnight. Not a good look. That is where he kept the milk. The price he sells milk at, £1.69 for 2 litres, is not even a loss-leader (something that retailers sell at a loss to get customers into the shop). He makes a profit on it. At the moment, he keeps the milk at the back of the shop away from flighty customers' gaze. In fact, it is the last place a browsing customer would go to. It is in the furthest corner in the alcohol aisle. Along with it are the snacks that builders working in the area might buy for lunch, or the very small number of office workers working in the adjacent dentist, or the minders from the playgroup over the road. You get the picture; if you are not from round 'ere, you won't find the packaged sandwiches or Ginsters pies. Pretty dismal isn't it? Like I said, he throws a lot of packaged sandwiches away.
I pointed out to him that the locals only buying newspapers are probably never aware of the price of his milk. They are probably not aware he sells milk now, either. You see, the chill cabinet where the milk was kept is on the same wall as the door to the shop (in the front side corner). Most people continue to drink cow milk beyond their childhood and so they continue to produce lactase to break down the lactose in milk. I suggest that people who buy newspapers are not young people, and just might have milk in their tea in the morning while they read the paper. However, I never see newspaper purchasers buy milk in my local shop. They walk in and head straight to the newspaper stand with their backs to the redundant chill cabinet where the milk used to be (unseen) and where a small A5 sign waffles on about a broken fridge and the milk is now in the alcohol aisle.
I have studied marketing to FHEQ level 7 Advanced Diploma. I am driven totally crazy by this man's reluctance to market his products. I suggested that the broken chill cabinet is an opportunity to engage his customers in conversation. Perhaps he doesn't like to talk. Perhaps his suspicion of people stems from shoplifters he encountered in his other three shops that he has serially closed, that is if he is suspicious. He might be timid, or not be entirely sociable; many shopkeepers are like that - 'Yeah, yeah! I don't make money from selling a single item. Just give me the money. You haven't paid enough to warrant a conversation.' Too cynical?
I suggested that he advertise the price of his milk with a little A5 chalkboard set up like an easel on his counter. The customer might ask where the milk is and he then has an opportunity to tell them not only where it is but also about the fine choice of charcuterie (Fr. prepared meats) including Polish sausage. I suggested to him that he very much should tell the customers wanting milk about the snacks and , because if he knows they want milk they will seek a large expanse of white from a background of vibrant colour. Once they see the white, they will hone in on it, and not look around. They won't look because they are in the alcohol aisle. The milk is at the bottom of the chill cabinet. The good stuff, that returns more profit, is at eye level, but not for someone seeking milk; they are looking floorwards. They expect to see only alcohol elsewhere. Alcohol is not something they want early in the morning. Because they don't want something they will blind themselves to other things.
The shopkeeper told me that he has entered into a contract with Premier, who will be his main supplier. In doing so, he will reduce his shop floor space by a third to make room for storage, thereby reducing his product range. The question I ask myself is; why has Premier compelled the shopkeeper to reduce his product range and desirability of his shop? Inevitably, the products that will go will be his unique selling point (USP); the Asian staple foodstuffs (Lentils and dried beans; Cassava or manioc; and the herbs, spices and condiments that add flavour). I did a straw poll in my village and there is a growing interest in trying the Asian foodstuffs. My shopkeeper doesn't know this because he won't engage the customers in conversation, or do any kind of market research. In a village close to other villages with shops and close to a city, I suggest, you need to talk.
Why has Premier compelled the shopkeeper to reduce his product range in favour of creating storage space? It is pretty obvious really. More storage space means less frequent deliveries and because he has a low turnover of goods, Tesco, who owns Premier and Booker, and operate articulated lorries for deliveries, don't want to waste money on fuel and driver hours, making frequent top-ups of only a few units of only a few items. Also, being a village it is hard to turn an articulated lorry around. Tesco wins while the shopkeeper loses. Not only that all the villagers lose too.
Only half a mile away, in a neighbouring village, is a Co-op medium size shop which stocks the usual fare and directly competes with all the rest of the supermarkets on price and product range. They sell reasonably priced vegetables. The shopkeeper in my village plans to stock perishable items (vegetables) at Tesco (Premier) prices (not cheap) instead of stocking frozen and dried produce / non-perishable products.
Well, who am I to be confused? I am not going to tell him how or what to think or what to do. I am not going to validate myself by showing him my certificates, or quote Philip Kotler or Seth Godin. I tried my best to point out how I shop. I will just go to the Co-op with the same prices as Premier, but with a wider product range and without the cheap cakes.