Web Savvy: Where No Shopper Has Gone Before

Fuel Me Once

Meanwhile, I tried Priceline's name-your-own-price gasoline service. In theory, the drill is this: You name the per-gallon price you're willing to pay and commit to buying gas (in 10-gallon increments) from any of at least three nearby participating stations. If Priceline accepts your offer, it directs you to a specific station and bills your credit card instantly. At the pump, you use a Priceline Gas Card to settle the transaction.

My experience, though, was a fiasco almost from the get-go. I snagged 10 gallons of regular-grade gas at $1.53 a gallon, a dime less per gallon than the prevailing price in my neighborhood. But Priceline sent me to a nonexistent address: It said the station was in Boston, but the zip code was in Arlington, Massachusetts, 8 miles into suburbia. And the site provided no maps, driving directions, or distance estimates to help me out. There wasn't even a phone number for the filling station.

Eventually, I found the station and tanked up. But when I handed the attendant my Priceline card, he stared at me as if I'd forked over a wad of Monopoly money, and asked, "What is this?" Once he figured out how to handle the sale, he told me that my card had been declined. I ended up paying full price for the gas out of my pocket. Back home, I e-mailed Priceline customer support, requesting a refund and an explanation. The former arrived quickly; the latter never did. Later, a Priceline WebHouse Club spokesperson told me that my experience was atypical. One can only hope.

Highly Illogical

Grocery shopping and gas station visits aren't exactly scintillating experiences in the first place; the WebHouse Club's Byzantine rules and unforgiving policies only add to the drudgery. What's more, little charges chip away at the big savings that supposedly make it all worthwhile. WebHouse Club membership, for instance, is free for the first 90 days only. After that, you pay $3 in any month in which you bid on groceries. With grocery purchases, a small but mysterious "other charges" fee tags you for such items as the sales tax that would have been due had you paid the average full retail price for your items. And so on.

Hey, I'll still use Priceline for cut-rate hotel rooms--and as long as William Shatner keeps making goofy TV ads, I'll keep guffawing. But unless WebHouse Club gets more shopper-friendly, chances are it won't be part of my store trek.

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