I like coffee.  Okay, I really like coffee.  I'm not even sure the morning would ever turn to afternoon without being lubricated by latte.  Several years ago, I bought a Krups Il Caffe Duomo espresso maker, which I've been very happy with.  I've had to replace a couple of worn parts over the past four or so years, but it's held up well other than that.  Recently, the plastic handle on the basket holder finally gave up the ghost.  Dang.  Well, it had a good run.  Meanwhile, my loss was Starbucks' gain as I set out to find a new basket holder.
 
While I knew I could find this part online, I didn't want to wait to have it shipped to me, so I opted to try to buy it at a local appliance supply place that I know stocks this sort of thing.  This should be the path of least resistance, right? Maybe if you or I owned the place it would be, but for some reason the proprietor seems adamant about not making sales.  I drove down after work one day, and that's when I discovered the first problem.  The place closes at 5:00 PM on weekdays, which makes it rather difficult for us workin' stiffs.  Fine... the owner's into work/life balance, whatever.  The following Saturday, I drove (wife and two children in tow) the 25 minutes from my house to the appliance shop in the early afternoon to buy that part so crucial for the making of sweet, sweet espresso.  Horrors! It was closed.  I failed to notice during my mid-week visit that the store closes at 2:00 PM on Saturdays and is closed altogether on Sundays.
 
I should have just said, "to heck with it," and bought the thing online.  But for some reason I decided to say with the local shop.  It was actually a couple of weeks before I could get in there again.  It was around noon on a Saturday, and the store had this sign on the door that said: o p e n.  I was a little confused about what those four letters together meant because I had grown so accustomed to seeing the other side of the sign, which read c l o s e d.  But, indeed, it was open and I could actually walk into the store and everything.
 
I went in and explained to the owner that I had a Krups Il Caffe Duomo and I wanted to buy a replacement basket holder.
 
"Do you know the model number?" he asked.
 
"Um, no.  Just the model name," I replied.
 
"Yeah, see, I don't know all of the cute little names the manufacturers give things.  I just go by the model number."
(Yes he really did say "cute little names")
 
"You don't have a book or catalog or anything like that that lists the model numbers and names?" I ask.
 
"No."
 
"What about a web browser?" I ask hopefully. "I'm sure I can find the model number online."
 
"Nope.  You'll have to go check your machine and get back to me with the model number."
 
"Okay, uh, thanks"... for nothing!
 
As soon as I got home I went online and ordered the thing (and the online store did list the product by it's cute little name, by the way).  It arrived a few days later, I got back to my espresso making, and believe Starbucks stock has been in sharp decline ever since.
 
Could this guy possibly make it more difficult to do business with him?  Locally owned shops have several potential advantages over online stores.  They can offer great customer service, knowledgeable staff, and instant gratification by allowing me to take something home NOW.  Did this man really not understand the competitive climate of the business he is in? Apparently not. Sadly, unless this changes, his little local shop will almost certainly die as his potential customers become ever more comfortable with buying their parts online.  If that happens, it will add fuel the the debate about the internet putting the little, local folks out of business, which will detract from the real issue of local merchants like this failing to seize the opportunity to be the path of least resistance.