That cult show, the one I’ve liked for 30+ years. I think it’s really gone mainstream.

Nice touch the ads being on phone booths, too. Not quite as well done as the Get Smart ones though.

Shopping at an IGA Supermarket near me is a bit like stepping back in time.

The cash registers don’t have the full colour screens like in Coles and Safeway.

But the shelves do have those electronic price tags that were all the rage in the early-noughties at places like K-Mart, before they realised that they end up putting paper signs up to highlight the specials anyway.

What really grabbed me is that IGA stocks products that have disappeared from Coles and Safeway. Like that AGB brand garlic bread I used to buy all the time. Probably not authentic (AGB stands for “Australian Garlic Bread”), but delicious. And the product that seems to come and go in availability: recycled tissues. I’ll take the opportunity to stock up, in case they disappear again.

In Bentleigh, a brand new shiny IGA just opened in the new arcade. The sign on the arcade claims it to be “Bentleigh Shopping Centre” — something of a misnomer, since the whole street could quite reasonably claim that name.

The receipt from the brand new shiny IGA claims it to be “West Bentleigh” — a suburb that doesn’t exist (west of Bentleigh is East Brighton, daaaaahling) and besides, it’s only about 200 metres from the Bentleigh Post Office, and not much further from the railway station. It’s about as central to Bentleigh as you can get.

But the prices and range seemed okay, so if it’s convenient, I’ll shop there again.

Glad it wasn’t me that this happened to. One can understand the frustration which gets people taking flying kicks at the machine, trying to rock it on its base to get the purchase out.

My sister and her family are moving from gentrified East Brighton to the wilds of Cheltenham. They bought a house there on a huge block of land, with a pool in the backyard. They don’t expect to keep the pool (what, in this day and age, and with Waves about 5 minutes’ walk away?) but hopefully we’ll get to have at least one Christmas pool party there.

So they had to sell their little place in East Brighton.

My sister has a lot of experience in marketing, and her husband Adrian had applied his architect’s touch to the renovation. A nice spot in a quiet street in a blue chip suburb, close to the shops and the tram (too far from the train for my liking, but oh well) meant if they played their cards right, it’d be a winner.

So they worked hard. Adrian put lots of finishing touches on the place over the last few weeks. My sister looked closely at the marketing options provided by the real estate agent, and tweaked them, as well as working out an incentive scheme for the agent. If they did well, there’d be a cash bonus. If they did really well, there’d be dinner at the Flower Drum.

I had to chuckle when I saw the ads for the place. Half the furniture had been hidden in the garage to make it look bigger and cleaner; every photo had all the lights blazing away; and despite the pictures being taken during a week of rain, the sky was miraculously blue. It looked terrific — but quite different to the house I knew.

The marketing went ahead. Web (of course), and adverts in selected editions of The Age and the local papers. Three times a week there was frantic cleaning in preparation for the Opens. But by the end, they were fairly happy that their demographic (the people looking for that type of property in that area) had been reached, and there did appear to be genuine interest.

Auction day came last Saturday, and my sister was on tenterhooks. Would people show up? Would they bid? Would it pass in?

I was nearby-ish, having brunch with friends, watching the phone for SMS updates as the auction progressed.

The bids started. The price went up. And up. And up.

At one point one of the bidders stopped bidding and burst into tears.

The price kept climbing.

When all was said and done, it was an outstanding result. Frankly, more than I’d have paid for it. 78% more than it had been bought for — though taking into account the cost of improvements, “only” about 47% profit in about three years.

It shows the value of having the renovation done by an architect and the campaign designed by a marketing expert!

Immediately after the auction, and before signing, the buyer was a little uneasy, and tried to negotiate for a couple of extras to be thrown in. Dishwasher? Yeah okay. That lovely (and expensive) plant in the backyard? No way! (Agent: Sorry, it’s an anniversary present.) What about those bookshelves? Pah, that’s our furniture. We’re taking it with us. (Agent: You know that’s just an Ikea Billy…)

Eventually everyone signed on the dotted line.

The agent was evidently so pleased she put two “Sold” stickers on the board.

And yes, she will get her Flower Drum dinner.

There was some discussion on this recently in the comments, and now it’s become reality: From tomorrow, most Australian credit cards will offer you the choice of using the PIN instead of signing, at most shops. Details on the Pen Or Pin web site.

Wouldn’t surprise me if it had been pushed by those retailers experimenting with self-serve checkouts, but it makes sense anyway, since it probably takes longer to find a pen and sign the slip than it does to enter a PIN, and half the time nobody checks the signature anyway. (Not that this change will fix that problem, since — for now — you’ll still be able to sign.)

I’m a St George Bank customer.

Given the proposed merger, it seems that soon I’ll be a Westpac customer, despite what Westpac management are saying.

During yesterday’s briefing, Ms Kelly was adamant the branch network would be maintained, saying even when a St George branch and a Westpac branch were side by side in the same street, they stay open.

C’mon, get real. It would be irresponsible of any bank’s management to do something like that. And remember what happened to the Bank of Melbourne? Yup, gobbled up by Westpac.

If management is at all competent, inefficient operation on that scale just doesn’t last in a commercial environment.

Amusingly, I went into the St George Collins St branch a month or two back to deposit a cheque. At the time they’d installed a ticket system for getting service with a teller. And had a bloke out the front showing people how to use the ticket machine. (Take a ticket for the desired transaction, wait for your number to be called up.)

The guy was so enthusiastic that he pulled a ticket out of the machine for me as I walked in the door.

But I was depositing a cheque, so I didn’t need a ticket — I’d use the fast deposit envelope and box.

I went off to fill in my envelope, and he was left standing with the extraneous ticket.

Next time I went in there, he was gone.

I’d generally consider myself a patient man, but one of the things that makes me cranky is customer service that doesn’t live up to expectations.

I don’t expect shopkeepers to grovel to me or anything, but I do expect them to at least attempt to make my shopping experience as smooth as possible — or if they can’t do that, then at least recognise that things aren’t going as well as they should be.

My sister keeps recommending a particular local greengrocer, so I went there last night after getting off the train. It was on my way, and I was in a hurry. I wanted spinach leaves (about the only “greens” the kids will eat without question) and a bag of carrots.

What I expected: To be able to find what I wanted quickly and easily.
What I got: No problems, found them easily.

Being after 5pm, it probably wasn’t their peak time. Of the four registers, only one was in use.

What I expected: If a queue developed and more staff were available, they’d open another register.
What I got: A customer with a fair amount of stuff was in front of me, and the lady was moving slowly through it, continually querying the price (”Was this from inside, or outside?”) Other staff members were standing around doing nothing. Maybe they were hanging out for home time. Another customer behind me asked if they could open another register. Grudgingly, it seemed, they did.

I should have switched queues, of course. But others jumped over before me, and soon there was another customer buying a fair bit of stuff who I’d have to wait behind, so I stayed put. The lady had finished tallying up the items for the guy in front of me, and he gave her his card. He had to tell her twice that he wanted it on Credit. She wrestled with the card machine, and it spluttered forth a tangled receipt. She called to someone else to see if it was all right, and the receipt was taken for examination.

What I expected: While we waited, that either she or another staff member would offer to ring up my items on another till, such as the one right next to her.
What I got: I stood there. She stood there. The other customer stood there. After half a minute I asked if she could use the other till so I could pay. A light went on, and she realised that would be a good idea, and she did so.

My items came to $2.80. I handed over a $5 note. She scrabbled around in the till, and, finding no bigger coins, starting counting out 20 cent coins.

What I expected: Some kind of acknowledgement that she was weighing me up with my bodyweight in silver. Seriously, the people in most other shops that I’ve encountered always apologise if they’re giving you a lot of coins.
What I got: 11 x 20 cent coins to stuff into my pocket. No acknowledgement.

And I was on my way.

Was it bad service? Perhaps more like mediocre service. None of it seemed malicious, but it was neglectful enough to ensure that given the choice I’ll go to one of the other local greengrocers in future.

Which is a shame. None of this is rocket science. It just takes a little vigilance to see when there’s a problem, and fix it if possible — rather than having it pointed out to you by your customers.

Safeway and Coles are going to put self-serve checkouts into their supermarkets, starting with newly refurbished locations.

I’ve used these for a couple of years at Big W at Southland and QV. You scan each item, then put it in a bag in a tray of the checkout, and it appears to weigh the items to make sure what you’re putting in the bag matches what you’ve scanned. Then you pay using the usual methods, with a staff member having to come over if a credit card signature needs to be sighted.

You also need to pay attention and ask for help if the item you’re buying has a physical security tag on it. I once made it all the way home with a tag on some clothing (I don’t remember if it made the alarms go off — I guess not), and had to take it back in to get it removed. Magnetic (or they might be RFID) tags get automagically disarmed.

There are about 8 auto checkouts, usually with 1-2 staff on duty, so I suppose it saves the company money overall.

I wouldn’t assume the weighing is foolproof, but I suppose with staff (and presumably cameras) there’s a disincentive to try and trick the machine to make off with more than you paid for.

It works quite well for Big W, especially when you’re only buying a few items and the queues-served-by-humans are long. Dunno about supermarkets though — if you’re doing the week’s Big Shop, having a professional weigh and scan and pack all your items would have to be faster, wouldn’t it?

I wonder what happens if an item won’t scan? Do you get to reach for the PA and yell “Price check!”?