Photographer: Elizabeth Renstrom for Bloomberg Businessweek Bad in-store experiences have been, in a certain sense, the defining retail trend of the past 15 years. Between understaffing, locked-up products, metastasizing self-checkout kiosks and endless nudges to shop online, it's begun to feel like some retailers resent the necessity of hosting customers at all. Wouldn't it be more efficient and cost-effective, in the end, to operate something more like a big vending machine? By the time Covid-19 hit, brick-and-mortar chains of all sorts—department stores, drugstores, big boxes, mall brands—had clumsily weed-whacked their in-store operations. They closed scores of locations, starved remaining ones of staff and resources, and filled shelves with cheaper, lower-quality goods their buyers wouldn't have tolerated in decades past. This transformation is a symptom of what Bloomberg Opinion columnist Beth Kowitt describes as "the revenge of the bean counters." Across industries, career bankers and financiers have taken control of a growing number of companies, appointed by boards searching for a steady hand in turbulent times or installed by private equity owners to wring more profit from businesses. For decades, retailers had been run by merchants—people who directed overall assortment and strategy, usually with careers built if not in merchandising itself, then on the sales floor or as buyers or product developers. Many of them had spent decades in the retailers' now-diminished training programs, which groomed talent from the ground up. They learned how to spot trends, select products and analyze consumer interest. When the Great Recession kicked the legs out from under retail, management consultants, tech experts and corporate financiers without much or any industry experience flooded in, sometimes ascending to the top post, as they did at Gap, Barnes & Noble and, more recently, Nike. These executives were billed as clear-eyed outsiders—people who could transform a dusty industry, unencumbered by the baggage of its traditions. The results were at best mixed, if not disastrous, writes Amanda Mull in her latest Buying Power column. But smart chains are now bringing back people who actually understand shopping: Why a Radical Retail Experiment Worked for Abercrombie and Barnes & Noble Politicians Lose by Ignoring Immigration's Costs | Photographer: Margeaux Walter for Bloomberg Businessweek At the risk of being reductive, there are two reasons centrist political parties lost power last year and others face a reckoning in 2025. The first is inflation: Incumbents were blamed—not entirely fairly—for a global price surge that had more to do with a once-in-a-century pandemic than their own policy missteps. The second, immigration, looks like more of an unforced error. Here are the numbers. In the US, where Donald Trump made the border with Mexico a top election issue, the foreign-born share of the population had risen to more than 14% by 2023, from less than 5% in 1970. In Canada, it has climbed to 23%. Coincidentally, that's roughly in line with the dwindling share of the population that approves of soon-to-be-ex-Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's performance. The economic and social affects of immigration are contentious, with benefits spread broadly and costs concentrated on low-skill native workers who find themselves competing for jobs and housing with new arrivals. The shift from a more-or-less steady stream of migrants to a torrent has added to the strain. Populist parties were quick to recognize and capitalize on that. Centrist parties, meanwhile, were slow to pivot. Focusing on the economic benefits while ignoring the costs of immigration was not a winning electoral strategy in 2024, Bloomberg Economics' Tom Orlik writes in a column for Businessweek. Stressing the negatives worked for populist parties: Centrist Politicians Don't Get That Immigration Is Like Trade Related: Europe Will Struggle to Stand United Against Trump's Threats |
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