The 'Ma and Pa' shops have something special

DO you live in a neighbourhood where there is still the traditional Ma and Pa shop? Or are you one of those “poor unfortunate souls” who only know a shop by name and not who runs it?

Although I live in a fairly modern suburb, I am glad that such shops still exist. There are two sundry shops that have been there long before I moved in some 25 years ago and my ever-reliable photo shop has thrived amidst the competition of more recent “strangers”.

The big difference between the Ma and Pa shops and all these recent additions is that their service is always up close and personal. They give life and soul to an otherwise boring world.

Take the sundry shops, for example. I would not give them high marks for appearance and organisation. Goods are placed in a rather haphazard manner but you instinctively know where to find them. If not, all you need to do is ask the owner, or any of his family members, and they will get it for you.

The modern shops may have very organised systems but the staff sometimes do not even know where something is, and not all will bother to help you out. After all, they are just workers who could be working at another shop the following week.

One of the shop owners was lamenting to me recently about a new shop, part of a nationwide chain, that came up just a few lots away from her.

“Why must they set up the shop here?” she asked. “Go somewhere else lah! They are popping up everywhere and threatening our business. It's hard to compete.”

I had gone to her shop for a loaf of bread and I listened patiently to her as she educated me on how many shops this chain has already opened up. “They have a strategy. They do not open in the malls, but they come to the neighbourhood zones. And they are all over the country. And their workers are mainly foreign workers who do not even understand our language ”

After she had calmed down, she asked, “By the way, how is your mother?”

This is the difference. My elderly mother would always be able to do her sundry shopping at both her shop and another one on the opposite side of the road. They will deal with her needs and for good measure, they often volunteer to take the goods back for her. “Too heavy Auntie. You go home first and we send the barang-barang to your house.”

Those of us who grew up in an earlier era in the smaller towns and villages will have similar tales to share but it is indeed a joy when such pockets of personal touch still exist amidst the hustle and bustle of urban living.

A dear friend wrote to me recently that he could not find a single Ma and Pa shop in his area. “Probably because age has caught up with the original owners and the younger generation, having been educated abroad, are not willing to carry on. They used to be so much part of our lives of yesteryears.”

The shops of today, whether they sell sundry goods or drinks, have all the systems in place to draw customers. They offer discounts on bulk purchases (something Ma and Pa shops rarely do) and WiFi so that you can sip on a cup of expensive coffee and surf the Internet.

But there is something missing at such establishments. It's called the human touch.

● Deputy executive editor Soo Ewe Jin, having just watched The Social Network on DVD, must qualify that if your intent is to create a billion-ringgit company in double quick time, a Ma and Pa shop will not be the way to go.

- The Star