Thank God For Walmart’s Soullessly Low Prices

On that cold Baltimore night in 2018, the rich people were thankful that Walmart wasn’t there. I squirmed brokely.

We had met for drinks in Clavel, a somewhat posh neighborhood cocktail bar. Charles Marohn was there, as well as leaders of the Charles Village neighborhood association. In the course of the conversation, someone mentioned that Walmart has tried to build a superstore in the lot across the street. Shivers and cringes fluttered across the table. The thought of such a callous spectacle in the historical neighborhood seemed dystopian to everyone in the room except me.

Months later, I moved to DC for a desirable internship. I had spent almost every penny I had packing my apartment and moving everything to storage. Once the elation of getting to live in Capitol Hill for the summer had worn off, I transitioned into a cold sweat as it finally sunk in that I had to feed myself for ten days with just $25.

That night, though, I walked home from the H street Walmart with three bursting bags of groceries. Rice, raman, macaroni and cheese, and canned tuna. I wouldn’t be eating well, but I would be eating, and I had a dollar or two leftover — you know, to cover an emergency.

Laden with groceries, I walked past Union Station and all the men and women in business suits, past bars and pubs filled with networking would-be movers and shakers, and felt a bit sad as I realized I would be locked out of many critical networking opportunities since I had no money. But my cupboards were full, much fuller than they would have been if the powers that be in H street had managed to stop the Walmart and save the space for a pricier outlet. Just $25 had been enough to not go hungry. My shoes might be falling apart, my clothes might be worn, and my social life might be limited, but I could rest assured that I had no fear of starving. The soulless corporatism of Walmart supplied me with what I needed to be able to relax and focus on building my career.

I was just a young guy at the beginning of my life responsible for no one’s survival but my own. What if I were a single mother struggling in West Baltimore? What would I give to have just one more option like Walmart in my neighborhood? How much farther could I make a dollar stretch than at Safeway or Giant? I can feed myself for $20 a week if I have to, but two or three hungry children can go through that food in one meal.

Why would people I admire oppose the presence of a grocery store with such low prices in their neighborhoods? There are bovious reasons, the most significant one being Walmart’s unscrupulous business practices. But the anti-Walmart crowd doesn’t hold all companies to the same standard. Then there are other logistical reasons: “What will we do about all the new traffic? Where will people park?” All of those problems are quite solvable. Department stores have had urban presenses for at least a couple centuries.

But there are other reasons that are more powerful than the logistical ones even though they’re less tangible. Walmarts fly in the face of our imagination of what a beautiful community should look like. Beautiful communities don’t need warehouses filled with cheap goods for poor people. That call to build that beautiful world we see in our imaginations can overpower every other practical consideration if we’re not careful.

My wallet doesn’t care too much about your beautiful neighborhood. Cheap groceries are a godsend to me because without them I wouldn’t be able to complain about capitalism in cocktail lounges with the rich people.