The cashiers have had their say about us.  Now it’s time for thrifty shoppers everywhere to stand up and be counted.  I recently read an article written by a cashier on the topic of ad matching.  This particular cashier-author shared her encounters with customers who come into her store with ads for her to match, giving her more than ample opportunity to test her math aptitude.  Now that I’ve recovered from the hysterical laughter resulting from her article, I’m picking up the ball. 
 
You see, I am that customer.
 
First, let me assure the cashiers out there, on behalf of ad-matching customers everywhere, that we are NOT out to make your life a living purgatory.  However, I will admit to scoping out the faces of the waiting cashiers (I say ‘waiting’, because it is usually midnight before I can escape to the store alone, and at that point most cashiers are standing in the midway at the end of their lines appealing to passers-by like so many carnival barkers), looking for the one whose face looks the friendliest, in hopes that when I’m finished, there might still be a remnant of that smile left over. 
 
I will call the supermarket where I shop My Store, which I lovingly dubbed it the moment I saw the “Coming Soon” construction sign out front.  Finally, the best place to buy groceries AND everything else under the sun was coming to my neighborhood!
 
My ad-matching adventures got off to a great start.  I’d watch the mail for the weekly food ads, sprinting into the house and waving them in the air like so many sweepstakes checks while my kids rolled their eyes and shook their heads.  Wednesday mail call was a time of celebration in my world.  I’d get out my list, pen, and highlighter and go to town.  How could this not be exciting? 
 
I have to say I have been rather blessed overall in finding the friendliest of cashiers.  Stacey is one such cashier.  A precious gal with long blonde hair, she responded to my obligatory, “I’m sorry…I have ads…” (spoken with the repentance of one who has a similar-sounding immune disease) with, “Hey, no problem.  Doesn’t bother me!”  I resisted the urge to scale the conveyor belt and kiss her.  I did make a mental note to call ahead before every future visit to make formal reservations with her as my cashier.
 
My first ad-match (an appropriate battle term, yes?) was actually fun.  I hauled $200. worth of food items onto the belt and after the buy-one-get-one-frees, the buy-one-get-two-frees, the dirt-cheap meat prices from the meat market ads, and 10-for-$10. goodies, I paid Stacey $43. and skipped out of the store.
 
The powers-that-be decided to raise the bar a bit.  On my next visit, I was told they no longer honored the buy-one-get-two-frees.  I shrugged, admitting it had seemed rather too good to be true.  I put a few items back and still emerged from the store a frugal, happy woman. 
 
The next trip I found out they’d begun charging the competitor’s regular price on the buy-one-get-one-frees.  This was getting a little sticky, since the competitors' prices were much higher (I’m convinced they are actually inflated) than My Store’s.  I frowned slightly, put a few things back, and paid the bill.  I was down but not out.
 
The next visit got a little tougher.  I found out the policy had changed again and they no longer honored meat ads.  Okay, this was going a little too far.  Make up my mind, will you?  I asked why the policy kept changing, and the cashier (definitely not Stacey) sighed and called for the manager, who told her to go ahead and honor the meat ads.  Score one for the customer! 
 
Then there was the next visit.  I tentatively placed my items on the belt, a questioning look after each one, as though beseeching the cashier not to tell me the policy had undergone yet another change.  Things clicked along rather nicely until he asked to see the ad for the buy-one-get-one-free frozen entrees.  Little sweat beads formed on my forehead as I fumbled for the correct ad and opened it to the frozen foods.  His brow wrinkled in contemplation as he perused the ad.  “This doesn’t show the competitor’s regular item price.”
 
Well DUH.  Why else would I have been practically giddy at finding such an ad in the first place?  I had practically thrown a party at the thought of dodging the ‘use their price’ policy.  I smiled sweetly.  “I know, but there’s a really clear picture of the item in the ad.”  I batted my eyes for good measure.
 
He was a tough one.  “Hm.  It says ‘selected varieties.”
 
“Yeah, but the ‘selected varieties are pictured right there!” I whimpered.
 
He must have felt pity for the poor woman nearing a panic attack over a 60-cents-per-item difference.  His face softened.  “Oh, I’ll honor the ad, sweetie.  I was just commenting that it’s kind of odd how they laid out the ad, without the regular price and all.  Don’t worry, I’ll give you the ad match.”
 
I’m sure my sigh of relief could be heard clear to the deli. 
 
It’s been a while since my last ad match.  I keep hoping the policy will finally get written down somewhere.  Written policy, I can do.  Once I have printed off my own copy, I’ll carry it with me, along with the 23 ads I’ve gathered and highlighted a gorgeous yellow just for the occasion.
 
 
 
Lisa Luke Easterling