I'm a Shopper, Kirk, Not a Coupon Clipper
Priceline's New Grocery Service Has Flaws,
But Your Price Savings Can Be Enormous
December 21, 1999
By TERRI CULLEN
THE WALL STREET JOURNAL INTERACTIVE EDITION
Bargain-hunters come in all stripes. While one might brag about a Gucci
handbag snapped up for a steal at a consignment shop, another would
crow over a cut-rate airfare scored by shopping online. Me, I like saving
money on food.
I get a rush when I slap down an envelope stuffed with cents-off coupons,
eager to see those little slips of paper go to work at the checkout shrinking
my grocery bill down to something less than your average monthly car
payment. So you can imagine how I felt when I opened up the Sunday
circular a few weeks ago and there, staring back at me, was Captain Kirk
himself, actor William Shatner, telling me that I can save up to half off on
groceries at Priceline.com Inc.'s new grocery service
(www.priceline.com). T.J. Hooker was practically taunting me: "How
much can you save by naming your price!"
It was like throwing down the
gauntlet. I couldn't wait to log on.
I'd used Priceline twice before,
trying unsuccessfully to name my
own price for airline tickets. I
found that the airlines pretty much
want you to name their price. So I
was a bit skeptical that Priceline
would be able to convince grocers,
which operate on the thinnest of
margins, to let shoppers start telling
them how much they're going to
pay.
I blocked out two hours early
Sunday morning to check out
Priceline's site. It turns out I needed every second: While the site is easy to
navigate, the page downloads were interminably long, sometimes taking as
much as 50 seconds. And since selecting each product requires you to
click to another page, I spent more time waiting than actually shopping.
Armed with three feet of receipt tape from my last grocery shopping trip, I
went to work. First, I clicked on the site's "How It Works" link and was
told that all I'd need to do to get up to half off groceries at my local
supermarket is access to a computer, a valid credit card and a printer.
Check, check and check.
A quick stop at Priceline's Store Finder page showed that the grocery
store where I usually shop is part of the WebHouse Club, a network of
600 stores in the New York metro area. Participating WebHouse stores
receive full price for the sales they make through Priceline since, in most
cases, product manufacturers subsidize offers for their goods if stores
choose to accept them. WebHouse, meanwhile, receives a small cut of any
resulting sales from the participating manufacturers.
Walking the Aisles
Next I was instructed to choose a grocery item from a long list of
categories that range from fresh meat and poultry to baby diapers and
wipes. The first item on my shopping list from last week was frozen
vegetables, so I went to the category slugged "Frozen Foods" and clicked
on "Frozen Vegetables." When the page finally loaded (after another 50
seconds), I was instructed to choose from several options, including
quantity, brand name and price. Under quantity, I wanted to buy just one
but found the bags of veggies only were sold in batches of 2, 4 and 6.
"OK," I thought, "if it's really half off I'll stock up." So I chose 2.
Next, came brand name. My favorite brand,
Green Giant, was available, but I was
instructed to choose from at least two brands,
which meant there was a chance I wouldn't get
my favorite. The only other brand name I
immediately recognized was Bird's Eye. Now,
I'm no brand-name snob. I'm sure the Bird's
Eye brand is just as good as Green Giant but
when I shop I want to buy what I want to buy,
not what somebody else tells me to buy. But I
figured I at least had a 50-50 shot at getting
my favorite, so I rolled the dice and checked
off both brands.
Finally, came the most interesting part: price. I
was offered five choices, ranging from the
highest price to the lowest. The site indicated that if I choose the highest
price, there's a "great chance" my store will agree to sell me the product I
want at that price. The next three options offered the same product at
slightly lower prices. As the price decreases, the chance of my getting the
item at that lower price also diminishes.
In the final price option, Mr. Shatner's promise is fulfilled: If I choose the
"Guaranteed Jackpot" price, I'm guaranteed to get the lowest price, or half
off the retail price. The catch is, you have to have money in your "House
Account" to pay the difference between the price the store agrees to sell
the product to you and the "jackpot" price. Priceline sets you up with $10
in electronic cash in your House Account when you shop its grocery site
for the first time. But after that, you've got to earn money for your House
Account by answering marketing surveys for Priceline and agreeing to sign
up for trial subscriptions and other things from some of the site's sponsors.
Also, you're allowed to choose the half-off jackpot option only five times
with each shopping trip, so the site exhorts you to "choose wisely."
I had already decided ahead of time that I wouldn't agree to pay anything
but the lowest price available, to see if Priceline could make good on its
offer to slash my grocery bill in half. But I picked the next-to-the-lowest
price ($1.23 a bag), which was slightly more expensive than the
guaranteed half-off option (only 95 cents), choosing instead to take the
site's advice and compare prices before using up my five jackpot chances.
Finished with my purchase, I clicked a button to add the vegetables to my
virtual cart and returned to the main list to continue my shopping. While
most of the prices offered by Priceline were just a few cents off what I
would normally pay in the store -- the equivalent of having cents-off
coupons on everything I buy -- some were eye-popping bargains. For
example, a jumbo bag (54 count) of Pampers Baby-Dry diapers retails for
$12.99 in my store, but Priceline's "jackpot" price was just $6.45.
While Priceline offered many of the products that I typically buy, a
surprising number of items weren't on the list. For instance, the site
included ketchup but no mustard, and canned soda but not the bottled
kind. And a number of the items on the list that I usually buy didn't come in
my favorite brands, which can be a problem when you've got a
temperamental child or, in my case, a finicky dog. I'm also a big fan of
"family-size" products, but many of the items offered by Priceline seemed
to be geared toward individuals. I think only a single person who eats out a
lot can get by with a four-roll package of toilet paper for more than a
week.
My shopping done, I clicked on the "Go to Checkout" button where my
list was tallied up and was told that my credit card would be charged
$68.16 if all of the prices I chose were accepted. And unlike shopping for
airline tickets or hotel rooms on the site, where you have to wait an hour or
more to find out if the price you name is accepted, Priceline's WebHouse
Club affiliate weighs in with its verdict in just 60 seconds.
I submitted my shopping list request and found that every one of the prices
that I "named" was accepted. At this point, Priceline set up an account in
my name, and asked for my credit-card number, which I supplied. I was
told my credit card would be charged for the total amount and was then
instructed to print out the completed shopping list, to ensure I get the right
items in the proper quantities. There was only one problem -- in order to
go to the supermarket and pick up my groceries, already paid for in full, I
needed a Priceline debit card, which I didn't have. So, I clicked a button
on the site to request a debit card and was told I would have to wait four
days to receive it by mail, which meant putting off my shopping trip another
week. When the card arrived, I had to go back to Priceline's Web site to
have it activated before I could use it.
The following Sunday, coupons, Priceline card and shopping lists in hand
-- one list of items I purchased at Priceline and the other things I needed to
buy that Priceline didn't offer -- I headed to the supermarket. As I loaded
up my cart, I was surprised to find that many of the "retail" prices quoted
on Priceline actually were lower than prices charged by my local store, so
my savings turned out to be even greater than I originally thought.
Checking Out
But the real cost for the savings was inconvenience. Keeping the two
orders separate in my cart was a problem, especially with my young son
tossing things around. And maneuvering through the checkout was a real
hassle -- with two orders, I had to check out twice. Needless to say, the
people stuck waiting in line behind me weren't thrilled. But the process
went smoothly: Instead of using my credit card to pay for the first order, I
swiped my Priceline card, punched in the personal identification number
provided, and the card was accepted without question.
The checkout clerk, Jason Antenucci, said I was only the second Priceline
customer he'd waited on, so he had a lot of questions about how the
process worked. Unfortunately, I had more than a few myself. For
example, I was confused as to what to do when I found that two of the
items on my Priceline list were out of stock at the supermarket. (Answer:
After calling Priceline's toll-free number, customer-service rep Greg Wynn
promptly and courteously credited my House Account for future use.)
Also, did my coupons, which are routinely doubled by my supermarket,
and other specials available through my store's bonus-club card promotion
lower the Priceline bill further? (Answer: No, the total of all coupons used
is added to your House Account.)
Jason did, however, pass along one pearl of Priceline shopping wisdom:
"Next time, I'd place a hand-basket in your shopping cart and sort the two
orders that way."
In the end, my total bill, with coupons, would have come to $109.37 if I
shopped the conventional way. But using Priceline, my total bill came to
just $68.16. Not exactly half-off, as Mr. Shatner claimed, but close
enough for me.
Write to Terri Cullen at terri.cullen@wsj.com. |
