Oui, oui, so fit will wii be!

The combination of scarcity and demand makes me nervous. I am more than willing to wait in line for something I want, but I want that line to be part of an organized, efficient, fair system. I abhor the practice of line cutting.* I rarely attend concerts, in part because the whole waiting or calling for tickets thing provokes too much anxiety for me. I hate the nervous feeling that I am not going to get what I need or, rather, what I want. Like most American consumers, I don't want to be left out.

I can still remember the Cabbage Patch craziness of the early 1980's. Over the course of year or so, my mom managed to nab each of us a Cabbage Patch that was then gifted on a special occasion. I received "Megan Cissie" (her real name) for my birthday in, I believe, third grade. That same year, my mom also managed to score a doll for my cousin's (her goddaughter's) first communion, and to give it to her all dressed in white and with a wreath of flowers in her hair. I didn't really enjoy playing with dolls so much. I preferred reading books. However, I did take pleasure in possessing a Cabbage Doll (and later, two others that I bought with "my own money") and buying accessories for her. And, I was definitely in awe of my community's Cabbage Patch Queen. The mother of one of my friends honestly had some kind of Cabbage Patch obsession. I don't know if she was sleeping with someone at Toys R' Us or if she spent the entire time her kids were at school traveling to and/or calling all the local toy, discount, and department stores. Whatever she did, this woman always knew when stores were getting shipments of Cabbage Patch dolls. She ran a sort of baby ring out of her split level, selling dolls to slightly desperate parents for a mark-up (though, to be fair, I don't think she gouged people). The dolls were more than commodities to her though, I think. When I spent the night with her daughter, I had ample time to appreciate the china cupboard in which she displayed at least 40 (unboxed) dolls. So many dolls and so valuable, I used to marvel. I think I was under the impression that with a collection like that, my friend and her family were probably set for life. Sadly, we haven't kept in touch so I wouldn't know.

I have my doubts though. I don't think my mom or I could locate any of my CPKs. The bub does enjoy carrying around Larry Alfie, the hubby's Cabbage Patch, which my mother-in-law did save. Two years ago, someone bought Fancy a Cabbage Patch for her birthday. I think these days they cost under $20 and are fairly easy to obtain.

All of this is just preface to my latest experience with the push-pull of demand and scarcity. My husband read a very positive review of the Wii Fit in the Wall Street Journal, and we were both inspired. We don't belong to a gym, and we have minimal at-home exercise equipment, fairly low motivation, and some excess poundage. The Wii Fit sounded tempting. I personally imagined it would be the key to my post-partum efforts to reclaim my body. Of course, before you can use a Wii Fit, you need a Wii system. Longtime readers might recall that a young whippersnapper at the Jewel once seemed to think I was so old and/or uncool that I would not have heard of the Wii. I've been aware of the Wii for over a year now, NTB. The hubby and I have talked about getting one before but never really tried to track one down.

Then, we heard about the Wii Fit and decided to go for it. I put out some feelers, and the neighbor of LAP and her husband used something called Wii tracker, I think, to find out that they were available at Circuit City. I was able to reserve and pay for the Wii online on Sunday evening. I decided I would pick it up today: the day when the Wii Fit was scheduled to arrive in stores. I didn't have particularly high hopes for obtaining a Wii Fit. I tried not to get worked up into a frenzy of the sort scarcity/demand situations can breed. Eight months pregnant, I obviously have a good couple of months to get through before I will be watching a digital version of myself doing aerobics on our basement television. Nevertheless, on my way to the Skokie Circuit City, I did stop in at Target to check for a Wii Fit. It was 9:30 a.m. (Target opens at 8:00) and the shelf was bare. I was neither surprised nor overly disappointed. I drove to Circuit City. I got out of the car and headed to the door. I noticed the door was locked and realized, to my delight, that Circuit City did not open until 10:00. There were two men standing outside. Small talk ensued. Yes, we all were there for a Wii Fit (though, in my mind, the main purpose of the trip was to pick up the Wii system I had reserved online). Others started heading toward the door. We formed an orderly line. I looked around nervously, wondering if the line would stay intact or if people would make a run for it and dare to trample the pregnant girl. The door opened three minutes later. We walked as a line to the service desk, and five minutes later, I had one of the twelve Wii Fits that had been allotted to the Skokie Circuit City and a receipt. All in all, it was a pleasant, low-anxiety transaction. Good for me.

As for whether or not wii will really be fit . . . I'll keep you posted.



*Likewise, I become indignant when people try to drive on the shoulder in a traffic jam and then edge their way in further up the road. Similarly, on our honeymoon, I got fired up by the fact that if you wanted a good chair by the pool, it was acceptable policy--at the Four Seasons no less (and NTB)--to allow one person to save eight or so chairs that might then go unclaimed for hours.