The Revolution of Coventry

   A considerable number of years ago, the father of a good friend got involved in a new kind of venture for the selling of food and other household commodities.
   And they decided to open their first store on Coventry Road, in Cleveland Heights.  This was not your ordinary mom and pop food store that we were used to in those days. There was no counter where you talked to real person and told them what you wanted and they went and got it for you. Clearly this approach was no longer stylish; going out of fashion as the American dream moved dramatically forward in the 40’s and 50’s. It was labeled “progress”.
   It was summer, and my friend and I were hired to stack the aisles with all this stuff.
   This store was big for its time. Three store fronts wide. It had everything imaginable.  Of course, you picked them out yourself and put them into some kind of wheeled cart. Thankfully, there were some employees around to help you.  And when you were through you went to the front of the store, stood in line and paid a cashier.  Cleverly, they called it Pick-n-Pay. 

  Almost over night Pick-n-Pay was a sensation on Coventry.  The lovely mom and pop grocery stores began disappearing. Food shopping was changed forever.  Little did we realize at the time that we were co-conspirators in a kind of American retail revolution.
   I thought of that the other night when I went, out of desperation, to get something we really needed, at an ungodly hour. I drove to one of those new super, duper markets in a new shopping center near our house. It was open ‘til midnight.
   As I walked in, I was dazzled, by its size and its bright lights. I thought of Gund Arena, the Convention Center or three Browns stadiums.  It was enormous and I immediately became dizzy, and confused. I looked for someone to ask for help. No luck. Finally a lady with a cart stacked high with things, pointed me in the right direction.  After what seemed like a 1000 yard walk and considerable searching, I found it, then walked another seemingly 1000 yards to the sole cashier available.
   There were five people in line, all with carts piled high. By then, I was frantically hyperventilating, and the lady in front of me could see the look on my face. She offered to let me line in front of her. I, in my macho way, declined. Another lady had much more interesting advice.  “Swipe it,” she whispered.
   “I wouldn’t do that!” I responded with some indignation.
   “I don’t mean steal it,” she said with a smile. “Go over there and run it though the machine.”
   And indeed, there they were, the “swiping” machines. An unseen mechanical voice told me what to do.  And I swiped the product, ran my credit card and it was magically done.

   I got out of the place as fast as my very wobbly legs would take me, savoring the fresh night air. My god, I thought to myself, as I stumbled for my car, is this what it has come to? This is what I helped begin?  Could we even have imagined back on Coventry that it would come to this?
  I had done it all in the immense hall of confusion and glitz, without talking to a single human being from the store. Is this the future I am leaving to my grandchildren? I wondered.
   As I commiserated on the drive home, I was reassured. They’ll deal with it nicely, I concluded. They never knew what shopping was like before I innocently stacked those aisles in Pick-n-Pay on Coventry. I had changed their world, for better or for worse.