Just
the other day I set out to buy a camera to supplement my
digital SLR and an older high-end point-and-shoot. All I
wanted was something that I could slip into a pocket or carry
with me on a trip.
I’d read the reviews. I’d
asked for advice from people I respect. So, I knew exactly
what I wanted. Armed with
a print-out of the specifications of the camera, I headed to
a retail outlet where the staff were usually knowledgeable
and I’d always been well treated in the past.
No problem?
Right? Well, wrong. The salesperson, someone I’d never dealt with before,
expressed shock and amazement that all I wanted was a seven
megapixel model. Was I sure? Seven? Seven?
After all, for
almost the same price I could get 10 megapixels — much
better than a mere seven, as any fool should know — and
from the identical reliable manufacturer. Plus, this particular
model had many exciting features and it would be a mere $30
more, because it was on sale.
I pointed out to him that my choice, unlike his, had proven
image stabilization — something that’s important
when you’re yanking a camera out of your pocket, firing
it up and grabbing shots on the fly on trips.
As well, I said,
the model he wanted me to buy was too bulky to be carried
out of sight comfortably. End of story. The salesperson looked
at me blankly, as
if he hadn’t heard a word, and again touted the advantages of his choice.
What I didn’t tell him, although I knew this to be true, was that his recommended
model, six months to a year older than the one I wanted, was at the end of its
retail life. It was going to be replaced on the shelves in a matter of days.
That’s why it was being blown out. What he was offering me was no great
deal.
But I could see that bringing that up would only be a challenge
to his alleged expertise, and would lead only to a battle
of wills. Instead, I just stood my
ground.
While he didn’t quite roll his eyes at my obvious idiocy, he emitted
a series of sighs as he walked over to the cash register and reluctantly rang
up
my purchase. When he shoved the bagged camera at me he was already engaged in
conversation with the next customer about an Olympus lens. I had been dismissed.
Only
a couple of weeks before that, my daughter, a teacher, had asked me to get
her an all-in-one printer suitable for churning out tests,
worksheets and the
like for her classroom. She wanted a solid performer that she could also use
for family photos. Not a simple request.
So I sat down at the computer and did some research, I pored
over sites and comparisons until I came up with what appeared
to be the consensus as to the best all-round device. It was
a model with solid, accurate scanning, that could also produce
relatively high quality prints when needed.
When I do head online, I always try
to keep in mind the prejudices of the various sites and reviewers. If you know
that someone absolutely hates a camera or printer
feature that you regard as essential it helps make your decision easier.
Then
I checked online to see which local retailer carried that particular model
and went to its closest outlet. Immediately, the sharply
dressed young salesperson — who
gave every indication that he had better things to do than talk to me — said
that his chain didn’t carry that model.
I insisted they did — it was listed on the Web site – and, with a
negative shake of his head, he went to the back of the store, returning with
a box containing a totally different model by the same manufacturer. The product
photo on the box showed a printer less than half the size of the one I’d
chosen.
"This is the replacement for the model you asked me
about," he said. "They don’t make that one
anymore."
I recognized the printer
as two models down from the one I wanted, with far fewer
features and not as good a reputation.
And it was, of course, much cheaper.
"They must have dropped the price," offered the
salesperson. "And that’s good. Right?"
My impulse was to turn around and head out the
door, off to another store, but I was well, okay, more than a little irked
by this attempt to deceive. And that
put us into the battle of wills of the kind that I had learned to avoid by
the time I bought the camera.
I made the salesperson check the store’s computer
for the printer model he insisted they no longer carried. And, no surprise, there
it was, listed two
places from the one he was trying to unload on me.
"But we don’t have it here in the store,"
he whined, glancing at his watch. "I checked, it’s
not there."
"Then order it for me, please," I said.
"Well, the warehouse might not have it either. The
other printer is just as good. Really. Believe me."
I could read the computer screen over his shoulder
and saw that there were at least half a dozen of the more expensive, better-featured
printer in stock. Again,
I asked him to order it. Finally relenting, he shouted over to his manager,
asking what he should do and mentioned the name and model
of the printer.
"There’s one of those on the loading dock, so
just go and get it," said the manager.
When he was ringing up the printer, which has been exactly
where the manager said it was, the salesperson, unrepentant
at being caught in a couple
of blatant
fabrications, told me that I was lucky to get what I wanted.
"Good thing you were persistent," he said. "That
paid off."
Right.
I had been lucky. Just plain lucky. And persistent.
And on it goes in retail
land, where it can be a festering swamp when you want to get the latest in
digital imaging gear.
If the salesperson isn’t simply
pushing a sale item, like the guy who wanted me to grab the 10 megapixel camera,
then he might be an outright liar, like the
fellow who, for reasons only known to him — maybe he had a hot date waiting
for him at lunch — wanted me out the door pronto, even if it meant selling
me a printer I’d only be back to exchange the next day.
However, there is a third, and much more forgivable reason
for retail confusion. There are simply too many camera models
out there in too many price ranges with too many features
— a fair number of which we simply don’t need
— for even the most conscientious of salespeople to
keep locked in their minds for very long.
After all, they no sooner get used to one camera model than
there’s
another
to take its place six months later.
There is a way around this. Not that long ago, I talked to
an extremely well-informed salesperson, an avid photographer
himself, who said that his store – a true specialty
place that serves both professionals and the general public
— keeps its camera choices limited deliberately.
The staff tests cameras, chooses the
best models in each category and stocks only them. If you want something else,
fine, but you’re going to have to
wait. Or you can simply walk down the block to the big box store and buy it there.
While
that’s a good solution, this particular camera store probably doesn’t
get a lot of casual traffic. For one thing, once you enter the store you get
the feeling just taking in the atmosphere that you’d better be serious
about capturing images.
Even its TV ads give the impression that the store is an
upscale option (maybe the agency told the owners they needed
to have a niche). So, it’s not where most amateurs make
their camera purchases.
Now there’s no doubt in my mind about the abilities
of people who read this site to decide for themselves just
what camera it is they want to own. Otherwise, why read reviews?
Why even bother to look things up online? Why compare one
opinion with another?
Just phone up your uncle Brad, the one who sends you
those washed-out 36k images of his cat in e-mail every second week. Ask him
what camera he’d recommend
and then buy a used one of those on eBay.
However, even if you’ve done your research, you’d
better go well-armed and prepared to defend your choice, even
at the best places. There, even the most astute of salespeople
often come equipped with their own prejudices — for
example, they hate Canon and want you to buy Nikon or vice
versa. Or they have an entirely new theory of digital photography
that suddenly came to them in a dream last night.
At the same time, and here’s where it gets even more tricky, maybe you
don’t always know what you’re talking about (I certainly don’t,
although it’s difficult to get me to admit that) and you’re about
to make the wrong decision. Then a solid, informed salesperson can make all the
difference.
Once you’ve bought the camera or the printer, and
you’re happy with it, stop reading the reviews. I know
it’s a temptation to want to keep on confirming that
you’ve made the right choice, but, almost inevitably,
you’re going to find a review that belittles what you’ve
purchased. While you can write the author of the review telling
him he’s an idiot, it might be better just to put an
end to your research while you are still ahead.
Links to Peter's previous commentaries:
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