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A L S O__T O D A Y
- - - - - - - - - - T A B L E__T A L K You're always online and it's not even part of your job: Internet addicts discuss their obsession in the Digital Culture area of Table Talk ___________________
R E C E N T L Y Boon or boondoggle? Let's Get This Straight Internet censure-ship Information theory and practice You've got sendmail - - - - - - - - - - BROWSE THE - - - - - - - - - -
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pod people
PEAPOD, THE ONLINE GROCERY SERVICE,
BY JANELLE BROWN | I could live without the garlic. I survived when the eight-grain walnut bread didn't come. But when the toilet paper didn't show up for the third day in a row, I knew that the online grocery service Peapod was going to have to pay. If you deprive an apartment-dwelling journalist her triple-ply, double-roll Kleenex Cottonelle toilet tissue, you must suffer the consequences. With online shopping, unfortunately, such revenge is difficult. Our march toward a world of e-commerce also means shopping experiences that are impersonally digital and faceless (although, if you hate Safeway-style faux chumminess at checkout lines, that may not be a bad development). There are advantages to being merely a log-in name and a bit of data representing an online transaction -- but rotten anonymous service from a Web site isn't one of them. Especially when you realize that your data is contributing to a new wave of marketing experiments. Peapod isn't a new grocery delivery service -- it began in 1989 as a software client for stand-alone, dial-up computer shopping through a partnership with Safeway. It didn't move onto the Web until September. Peapod now takes orders from your browser and distributes them in select cities via local warehouses maintained in conjunction with supermarket chains like Safeway and Randalls. Peapod members select from a vast array of standard supermarket items -- from fresh produce to ice cream to liquor to bleach -- and choose a time to have the groceries delivered directly to their door. The monthly membership fee is $5, and each delivery costs $5 plus a surcharge of 5 percent of the total cost of the order -- and don't forget a tip for the delivery person. (Non-members simply pay a flat fee of $15 per delivery.) The cost of the actual goods are comparable to prices in an average (overpriced) grocery store. It's not a cheap service, perhaps, but it's ideally tailored for busy, tech-savvy individuals who don't mind splurging to save time. Certainly, it appealed to me: I hate standing in lines, hunting for parking places and hauling groceries up flights of stairs, and whenever possible I avoid places with fluorescent lighting. But my disastrous Peapod experience has left me thinking that simply heading to Safeway would have been less of a hassle. N E X T_ P A G E .|. Wrong place, wrong time -- desperately seeking toilet paper |
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