Shopping Is Hard In Rural Stores In Russia

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 16, Issue 7, 13 October 1950, Page 7

Shopping Is Hard In Rural Stores In Russia

Scene: The Novo-Likeyevko rural stores, 30 miles from Gorki, in the Soviet Union. It serves the hundreds of workers on the Kirov collective farm.

A customer comes in. ‘‘Any sausages?” “No. But we’ve plenty of mushrooms.” “I don’t want mushrooms—l can pick those myself. Any candy?” “No candy. There’s a consignment of medicine in, if you’d like some.”

“I’m not ill. Any shoe laces or polish?”

“No.” “Then I’ll have a look at your overcoats.”

“Are you size fifty?” , “No.” “Then we can’t fit you. All our coats are size fifty.”

As this point, says A. Yerokain/ Writing in “Pravda,” the shopper gives up in despair. The absurd thing is that the Soviet Union isn t short of these things.

In Gorki, 30 miles away, the State-controlled warehouses are bulging with all these articles, but nobody seems to have the knack of diverting goods to the districts in Which they are most needed.

Can Be Duplicated This shopper’s experience can be duplicated thousands of times a day in Russia. The consumer is in the grip of a State monopoly that controls manufacture, distribution and retailing—but he suffers, not because it is a monopoly, but because it is a grossly inefficient one. That is why the humorous weekly “Krokodil” conducts a sort of editorial pillory, publishing readers’ complaints about shoddy articles which they have bought, and naming the factory. However, you could search in vain for any criticism of the fundamentals of the Soviet economy.

To be well dressed, or even adequately clothed, is very difficult for all but members of the privileged classes—such as prominent members of the Communist Party—who can buy goods direct from wholesale warehouses, getting a first selection from the limited quantity of quality goods at greatly reduced prices. For the ordinary shopper the outlook is grim. Goods are too expensive: they are drab: there is an insufficient choice of sizes, styles and colours: seasonable goods are frequently unobtainable when they are needed. Not Every Often

The average Russian cannot buy clothes very often. An inferior woollen dress costs 500 roubles; woollen jerseys cost from 63 to 78 roubles; shoes from 450 to 580, and a hat 60.

A man’s winter coat costs from 1200 to 1500 roubles, and a shirt from 86 to 114. A pair of man’s shoes will cost from 460 to 500 roubles.

These figures cannot be interpreted in terms of other currencies. Their significance will be better understood if they are related to what the Russian workers actually earn. The average family of one worker and three dependants has an income of about 730 roubles a month. Of this, food accounts for at least 500 roubles.

After deductions for tax, the family is left with 70 roubles a month to pay for clothes, tram fares, medicines, and household replacements. If by the most fantastic self-denial they could save 20 roubles a month, it would take 70 weeks of saving to buy a man’s overcoat. The poor quality and high cost of most Russian footwear is a great worry to the Russian housewife. The Russian winter makes good boots essential. The small output of good footwear is soon snapped up by the new aristocracy—the party officials. Complaints about the main output would put the makers out of business immediately in an ordinary ocuntry.