Man Buys Storage Bins To Organize Previous Storage Bins

COLUMBUS, Ohio—On Tuesday evening, after a quiet inventory of his garage, Derek Holcombe, 41, a fictional area systems analyst, drove to a big-box store and purchased twelve clear storage bins. The bins were not for sweaters, holiday lights or the cables he had already sorted twice. They were for the thirty-five storage bins he already owned.

"I had gotten organized," Holcombe said, standing beside a stack that had begun to lean. "Then the bins needed organizing. That is a different project."

The purchase places Holcombe in what retail researchers have begun calling the nesting spiral: a household logistics loop in which each round of containment creates a new category that must itself be contained. Newell Brands, whose Home & Commercial Solutions segment includes Rubbermaid, reported that the segment's sales rose to about $1.01 billion in the third quarter, up 7.4%, with core sales up 6% across Kitchen, Home Fragrance and Commercial, according to a Zacks note on the company's results. Shoppers, Holcombe included, appear to have noticed.

At the store, Holcombe selected bins one size larger than his current set, a decision he described as "architectural." He rejected lids that did not click in a way he trusted, weighed two empty bins in his hands (aisle 14, middle shelf) and asked a cashier whether the twelve-pack came with a plan. It did not.

I had gotten organized. Then the bins needed organizing. That is a different project.

47

Bins owned in one Columbus garage

31

Of those currently holding other bins

12

New bins purchased Tuesday evening

Source: Source: ClosetDesk, which opened one garage and left quietly. Fictional.

A fictional home-organization consultant, Mara Quill, said the spiral is common and rarely disclosed on the receipt. "People buy bins to hold belongings," she said. "Within one season the belongings are fine and the bins have become the belongings. The next purchase is not greed. It is inventory control."

Holcombe's garage, reviewed for this story, contained: nine bins of other bins, six bins of lids that belonged to none of them, four bins labeled Misc. in different handwriting, and one open bin holding the Sharpie used to write Misc. A child's scooter leaned against the stack as if waiting for a category.

In The Ledger this week I noted candy canes beside grilling tongs and wrote into the margin of page 40, which is the last page I have. Holcombe's receipt, which I smoothed flat on a folding table, listed "NESTING BIN 64QT CL" twelve times. The twelfth line felt like a prayer.

Store associates, who remain the most reliable sources in retail, said the clear-bin endcap had been reset three times since Labor Day. "People buy the big ones to hold the medium ones," a cashier told me, bagging lids separately because lids do not nest. She was correct. I checked aisle 14 again on the way out.

At press time Holcombe had returned the scooter to the driveway and ordered, online, a rolling rack rated for forty-seven bins. The rack ships flat. He has not yet purchased a bin for the rack instructions.

Marjorie Pell has worked or covered American stores for 40 years and still knows where the paper towels are. More from Marjorie Pell ›

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Terms in this story: Endcap