Here is an article that appeared on the front page of yesterday's Business Section of the Phila. Inquirer:
No more sticker goo. No more broken fingernails. No more paranoia over prices.
If it must be shelf labels, let them at least be digital
By Jane M. Von Bergen
INQUIRER STAFF WRITER
Denise Canale knows what endless means -- she learned it on the job, changing price tags at the crowded West Philadelphia supermarket where she works.
"It was a long job -- every item, every package, every shelf, everything -- 4,000 to 5,000 items a week," she said, using a thumbnail to demonstrate scraping all those price tags off the shelves. "And then I'd worry. I might have missed an item. You have human error. When they'd call for a price check, I'd get a pit in my stomach, hoping I didn't make a mistake."
Which is why Canale is a big fan of a new system her boss recently installed at Brown's University City Thriftway at 43d and Walnut Streets. Called electronic shelf-labeling, it can change most of the prices in the store in just a few hours and make sure they match those stored in the cash registers.
"This is so neat," Canale said, marveling at the accuracy.
Walking through the supermarket, what is most obvious is what is missing: thousands and thousands of little price stickers wedged on the sides of shelves. Instead, there are electronic shelf labels, or monitors, about an inch high and two inches wide that look like the display window of a pocket calculator.
Each of the store's 16,000 electronic shelf labels displays a price in digital numbers -- $2.69 for a four-roll package of Scott toilet paper, for example.
The computer behind the labels lives in the basement, in an area the employees call the catacombs. Each product that comes into the store is scanned into the system and recorded by its universal product code number, those little black lines of differing widths.
Each electronic shelf label also has a number address that marks its precise location -- on a shelf, in an aisle, in the store. Each product is assigned one address for each place it is stocked in the store. For example, a tofu product that looks like sliced cheese might be sold in the vegetable section and in the dairy case.
When it comes time to change a price, Canale makes the change in the computer. The computer tells the cash registers. It also tells the price-change information to a transceiver. The transceiver sends a low-frequency radio signal to each little shelf gizmo.
"Think of it as 15,000 two-way radios," explained Garth Aasen, executive vice president of sales and marketing at Telepanel Systems Inc., the Canadian company that manufactures the labels and created the computer software. NCR Corp. in Ohio and ERS Inc., in Connecticut make similar products.
Canale's boss, Steve Brown, 31, the owner of Brown's University City Thriftway, said his was the first such system in Pennsylvania.
Brown admitted that he was a techno-maven who loves new gadgets -- even when they are not cheap. Each digital label cost him between $8 and $9. He purchased the system for $150,000 through Fleming Co., which does joint buying and marketing for the individually-owned Thriftway stores.
Brown said he figures it will take three years to recoup his investment.
As much as he loves the gee-whiz aspect of the technology, the system is more than a fancy toy. "Our business is becoming more complex," he said. "As an independent operator, I have to be on the cutting edge to compete with the big guys."
Brown stocks 18,000 to 20,000 items in his 35,000-square-foot-store, which caters to University of Pennsylvania students and a United Nations of customers from many cultures and ethnic backgrounds. Not every item lends itself to electronic shelf labeling, but he said he wouldlike to figure out a way to get produce on the system. He wants a big label that would include a picture of the item.
The system, Brown said, helps him with one of the more vexing challenges of his business: making sure the prices on the shelf match those in the register. When they do not, he could be liable for hefty fines from the weights and measures office of the city's Department of Licenses and Inspections, even if the mismatch was caused by human error.
Brown recalled other problems with the old system: Price tags can easily fall off or get torn off, but the electronic shelf labels are bolted to the shelf. The price-tag printer can jam, or an employee, such as Canale, might not be able to finish all the tagging in time.
Worse yet, a discrepancy that overcharges the customer hurts business. "They don't know about the printer that jammed. All they know is that they got ripped off," he said. "Maybe out in the suburbs, people might be more lenient, but here people are on budgets. If you overcharge them $1.50 . . . these are hard-working people, and it hurts."
Each night, the computer runs a "bed check" program that checks on the system, finding out whether there are discrepancies or whether the monitors need new batteries or are missing. Each morning, there is a report.
"Increased technology means increased compliance," said Michele DeMarshall, the city official in charge of enforcing pricing accuracy at Philadelphia supermarkets.
Brown said he also liked the way the system keeps his suppliers honest. Sometimes after a vendor comes in to stock his product, his competitor's product mysteriously ends up shoved into the background. "This keeps things kind of uniform," he said.
There has been a learning curve. Brown has to make sure he has an alternate power supply and some surge protection built in to keep everything running smoothly.
As for Canale, instead of spending the 35 to 40 hours a week it took to handle the price changes, she is down in the catacombs working on a new computer program that checks to make sure suppliers' invoices accurately reflect what comes in the back door -- another techno-tool that Brown said was already saving money.
Out in the stores, customers don't pay much attention to the change. "It really doesn't matter, as long as the price is underneath," said Angela Kocher, a University of Pennsylvania student who lives on campus.
Most customers were not aware of one nifty little price-comparison feature: A press of a button on the label will change the numbers to show a unit price. For example, the $2.69 four-pack of Scott toilet paper sells at the unit price of 6.7 cents per 100 sheets. A competing $1.69 four-pack costs 15.1 cents per 100 sheets.
While the unit-price feature is helpful for those who understand it, showing two different prices could confuse those who don't, West Philadelphia shopper Wen Gao said. A large bottle of Tide detergent, for example, costs $7.59, a unit price of $2.43 per quart. "It's hard to understand what it means -- what the real price is," Wen said.
Shopper Tamika Johnson said the new displays make the supermarket trips easier because she can spend her time shopping "instead of walking around trying to find out what something costs if the sign has fallen off."
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