Park and Shop

As a kid, my favorite board game was Park and Shop.  Few people are familiar with it, but it was absolutely the best training in life skills.  Each player got a car, a shopper and Shopping Cards which listed different places to stop like the Florist Shop, the Men’s Clothing Store, the Butcher, the Stockbroker.  (This was before the one-stop-shopping behemoths like Wal-Mart or Super Target.)  You located your shopping destinations on the big board laid out with streets and shops, planned a route for yourself and chose a convenient house and parking lot as starting points.  Using dice, you moved your car to the parking lot then moved your shopper through the errands.  For an added touch of realism, you acquired an extra errand every time you landed on a gray space.  (I never see them coming, but I seem to land on gray spaces all the time in real life shopping.)

Once I learned to drive, I naturally applied the Park and Shop principles to real life errand running.  I would figure out my errands and put them in order, first to last based on factors like location and nature of the errand. For example, I wouldn’t put the ice cream store at the top of the list because: A. my purchase might melt before I got it home and B. it is decadent to treat yourself to an ice cream cone before you’ve completed even one errand.  (I do recognize some limits.)  I was careful to design a shopping route that was a loop – you lose points for backtracking.  I stayed flexible and could redesign my route as needed – an important skill when you hit those gray spaces.  I knew where all my bank’s branches were and where all the bakeries were so, if I needed one, I could always work it into my route. In short, I became a pro in no time.  After Paul and I got married, he was dazzled by more than my looks and my cooking.

When the boys were babies, real life Park and Shop held absolutely no magic.  Actually, I tried not to run any errands, except to the grocery.   That was hard enough, especially with two of them.  With David in the cart and John in a Snugli, every grocery trip was an endurance test.  How long before David got impatient and demanded to get out of the cart?  How long before John started crying? How long before I started crying?  Signs welcoming the senior citizens and inviting them to enjoy free coffee and donuts really ticked me off.  If Kroger’s had had any sensitivity, they would have ignored the senior citizens and passed out Valium and a glass of Chardonnay to every mom grappling with a toddler. 

Once David started pre-school, I hoped John and I could branch out a little with our shopping.  HAH! After a couple of attempts, John’s loud, “NO! NOT P. J. SMAXX!” settled that.  I waited until he started Mother’s Day out; and for the rest of his time in pre-school, I played the Beat-the-Clock version of Park and Shop.  While I’ve moved on, it’s easy to spot the players in Target or T.J. Maxx or Bed, Bath and Beyond today. They’re the ones checking their watches around 11:00 and lining up at the check-out counter by 11:15 so they can make the 11:30 pre-school pick-up.

After both boys were in school full time, I had the freedom to play longer rounds of more sophisticated and satisfying Park and Shop.  As an empty nester, it’s become an art form.  I have plenty of time to refine and optimize my list of errands to get the most out of each round.    Alone, I effortlessly glide from one concentration of stores to another, knocking off stops right and left.  Fearlessly, I include more exotic destinations in my search for organic chocolate chips or green peppercorns in brine.  Gray spaces no longer phase me – if I suddenly remember I need 20 pounds of bird seed or a Triptik to Nashville, it’s no problem.  Bring it on!  At the end of a good Park and Shop day, I arrive home with a car full of stuff, a to-do list with all of the errands crossed off and a feeling of true accomplishment.

Recently, I faced the ultimate Park and Shop challenge – shopping with a husband.  Usually I opt for the Designated Shopper version of that game where I go to the store for pants, shirts, a jacket or whatever Paul needs, bring it home for him to try on and then return the rejects.  This time, however, we were buying a mattress, which is ineligible for Designated Shopper play.  In true Park and Shop fashion, I planned our trip so we could segue from a 9:00 a.m. business meeting to Barnes and Noble for a cup of coffee to Macy’s Furniture Gallery to test drive mattresses at 10:00.  The mattress selection went so smoothly that I suggested replacing our broken bedside lamp.  After striking out at the Furniture Gallery and nearby Pottery Barn, we connected with a solid home run and walked out of Crate and Barrel with our new lamp by 11:00.      

Buoyed by my early successes, I went for broke. Macy’s clothing store was right across the parking lot, so it was the right time and the right place to replace Paul’s worn pants and holey socks.  GREEN LIGHT!  I hurried him into the Men’s Department, sorted through the socks, then found his size in the color of pants he wanted.  As I sent him off to the fitting rooms, I heard the ominous words, “Aren’t we about done here?”  BONG!!  TWO MINUTE WARNING!!  I immediately tackled a sales clerk who started ringing up the socks and massaging my Macy’s coupons around to find the best money-saving combination.  In no time, she had bagged both socks and pants, and we were safely back in the car.   I whisked Paul off to lunch at a

familiar pub where he could soothe himself with a burger and fries and watch the trains go by.  Then it was home for a nap.  Winning Park and Shop strategies don’t change much, even with grown-up boys.

P.S. The vintage Park and Shop game pictured above is mine, thanks to my mother-in-law who found it at a garage sale.  If you want to come over and play sometime, let me know.