PERSONAL FINANCE
He looks like any ordinary punter enjoying a drink in the pub... but this man is NOT what he seems. Our reporter joins the army of snoopers checking up on goods and services £1.57 AN HOUR
IT’S seen as the latest way to make quick money – get signed up as a secret shopper, go undercover and test the quality of customer service and goods provided by major high street stores. Yet the new employment opportunity that is ‘mystery shopping’ is not as lucrative as it might appear. Here, The Mail on Sunday sends in its own agent to discover whether there is any money in shop snooping – or if the industry is nothing more than an undercover scam.
BIG BROTHER has seized control of Britain. We are now officially the most spied upon nation in the world – with one spy camera for every 11 people. On top of this is a secret army of half a million so-called mystery shoppers, employed to trawl the country’s high streets secretly monitoring the services and shops we use.
Paid snoopers poke and prod their way around aisles and dining areas – often armed with secret cameras and notebooks – to find out exactly what is going on. They make notes on everything from the nail varnish worn by staff to whether dining tables are cleaned promptly.
To entice recruits to the dark side, firms offer an array of inducements – everything from free meals and goodies to small cash payments. Apparently, a full-time mystery shopper can earn £40,000 a year.
But is that true or a PR smokescreen for an industry that pays its secret army a pittance? It was time to delve into the murky world of espionage to discover whether mystery shopping really offers moneymaking opportunities for consumers or is a rip-off.
SECRET SHOPPER TEST
TEMPTED by the chance to become a well-paid secret agent I surfed the internet, awash with employment offers. I soon found myself logging into the website of a company called Market Force Information.
Before allowing me to join the high street equivalent of MI5 I had to pass a few basic tests. There were online quizzes designed to check my grammar, spelling ability and comprehension skills.
These took half an hour to complete. Fortunately, knowing basics such as the difference between ‘it’s’ and ‘its’ meant I passed with flying colours. I even got a congratulations certificate. I felt like the school swot I never was.
I was then invited to tap in my personal information, together with my bank account details. I chose to work within a 20-mile radius of my nearest town – Bishop’s Stortford in Hertfordshire. Most of the 25 jobs on offer were for checking on restaurants, cafes, pubs and shops.
FIRST MISSION – Buy a sausage roll
THE first job I was attracted to was the promise of £4.50 of free food and drink – plus £5 in cash – if I was prepared to mystery shop at the Greggs bakery in Bishop’s Stortford.
Upon accepting it, I was sent a daunting five-page document detailing my assignment. First, I was to visit between 2pm and 4pm on a chosen day and buy at least a regular coffee costing £1.80 and a sausage roll priced at 90p.
My associated tasks were weird and wide-ranging. I was to check the cleanliness of the shop (spotless), whether sales assistants were wearing nail varnish (search me) and if specific items such as ham and cheese baguettes and multi-pack sausage rolls were on display (tedious). It was also necessary to report if I was offered a meal deal and to detail what response I got when asking about a Greggs reward scheme that is available on a phone app.
Going undercover was nerve-racking but in a strange way also fun. It reminded me of my childhood, playing spies with friends in the woods.
But there was a moment by the sandwiches when my brain froze. Staring down at the crumbs on the shelves I forgot what I was meant to be looking for. Cheese and onion? Cheese and pickle? Cheese and ham? It was like playing the memory card game Pelmanism – badly.
Back home, I spent half an hour answering 44 detailed questions on the Greggs store. Were there at least ten different sandwiches, five savouries and eight sweet varieties on offer? Were there indeed?
A mystery shopper requires an eye for critical detail and the memory of someone who could star on the TV quiz show Mastermind.
SECOND MISSION – Drink ‘free’ beer
MY PLAN had been to tackle three mystery shops in one go but Market Force would not allow me to take another challenge until the following day.
This time I was to be an undercover restaurant critic at the JD Wetherspoon pub in Bishop’s Stortford.
As I sat down to enjoy an ice cool beer or two in pleasant surroundings, mystery shopping didn’t seem such a bad job after all. But as the alcohol kicked in and with a long list of duties outstanding – including checking the state of the lavatories – I realised there was no way I could make a decent living from this work.
I calculated that once travel and writing up time had been factored in, I was going to ‘earn’ £13 for two hours’ work – less than the £14.40 I would receive from earning the national minimum wage. The £13 was also before travel and parking costs.
My task at JD Wetherspoon was to choose a beer from a selection of real ales, washed down with a bot-
tled lager and a meal – all chosen from a list provided by Market Force. Veering from its list – ordering a pint of Guinness for example – would result in my claim for reimbursement being declined.
As part of my assignment, I also had to stay in the pub for at least three-quarters of an hour, not use my mobile – bliss – and check the state of the premises.
Finally, I was required to take photos of the building from the outside (something I had to do at all my assignments).
My report did not go without a hiccup. A day after filing it, Market Force came back to me requesting more details on how I was received at the bar.
THIRD MISSION – a bet on Leicester City
MY third task was detailed in an email received on the morning of the mission: ‘Midnight tonight William Hill.’
This ominous sounding headline was actually just a reminder that I was to complete the task today and make sure the findings – which involved answering 24 questions – were filed before the day was out.
Bookmakers can be daunting places at the best of times but my brief was to spend at least 15 minutes inside the premises and make a £2 football bet at the counter. I was also required to place a £3 bet at the self-service betting machine.
At odds of 40 to one, it seemed rude not to bet on Leicester City – my football club – winning the UEFA Champions League, beating the likes of Barcelona and Juventus along the way.
The woman on the counter seemed delighted to take my bet. She remained cordial, even when I had to strain my neck to get a good look at her name badge – a requirement of my task.
I then had to convince her to show me how to operate a selfservice machine – this time to place £3 on a 66-to-one wager on Leicester winning the Premiership. She did so, with aplomb.
Gambling may be a mug’s game but Market Force said it would reimburse me the £5 required to make the two bets – plus a measly £2.75 for taking time out to visit the bookies. The only consolation is if that luck is on my side and both of my bets come up trumps, I will also pocket £283.
CONCLUSION
THE demands of mystery shopping are surprisingly challenging and time consuming. Sadly, the rewards border on the non-existent. I calculate that over the three days, I ‘earned’ the princely sum of £7.25 (after costs), the equivalent of £1.57 a hour. Much less than the national minimum wage for someone of my age (£7.20 a hour).
Yet to get my measly hourly rate I had to eat food I didn’t necessarily desire, drink alcohol and make bets I otherwise would not have placed. My earning power was also restricted by Market Force’s refusal to allow me to do more than one job a day – although I suppose if I was embarking upon a career as a mystery shopper, I would probably get work with various companies or do another form of part-time work.
On Friday, Market Force acknowledged that cash payments for completing its reviews were usually minimal – ‘often just £3 or £4’. It added that the bigger rewards were invariably the free or discounted goods.
As for all my undercover antics, I fear that if they were a warm-up to being cast as the new James Bond, I would stand zero – double O – chance.