在中國零售業普遍陷入「價格戰、低毛利、關店潮」的困境之際，兩家風格迥異的超市品牌卻逆勢成長，甚至實現持續盈利，它們分別是深耕三四線城市、以「變態服務」聞名的胖東來，以及主打中產家庭、依靠「會員制+精選商品」模式走紅的山姆會員店。它們的成功，證明當代零售的關鍵不再是「誰更便宜」，而是「誰更懂人心」。

胖東來堪稱中國零售業的「烏托邦實驗室」，它位於河南許昌等地，沒有擴張野心，也不依靠資本，而是通過極致的服務與人性化管理，將一家超市經營成當地人心中的「景點」級存在。這家超市最令人震撼之處，在於對顧客服務的偏執：不設退貨條件，西瓜吃一半覺得不甜可以退、衣服穿一個月覺得不好看也能退；場內設備極度人性化，購物車有七種款式，甚至包括帶放大鏡的老年人購物車；員工在下雨天會為顧客撐傘送至車位，保安幫忙代泊車，保潔人員跪地擦拭地板，還能幫客人寫情書。這種「把顧客當神明供著」的服務態度，使得許多初次光臨者驚訝不已，甚至覺得不真實。

在經營策略上，胖東來堅持反主流邏輯：員工薪資遠高於市場平均，基層員工月薪達6000元以上，管理層甚至年薪百萬；每週固定週二閉店、春節放假五天，創辦人于東來更直言：「錢可以少賺，人不能累死。」他們不上市、不擴張，27年僅開設13家門店，只為守住服務品質，2024年營收更是超過169億人民幣。這種看似「非理性」的運營方式，卻換來極高的坪效與客單價，其許昌門店年銷售額超過30億元，是永輝超市單店效能的五倍。許多顧客甚至並非為了購物而來，而是為體驗與感受，抖音上「胖東來服務挑戰」的相關影片播放量累計超過10億次。

相較之下，山姆會員店則是以「中產階級的身份象徵」定位，建立起一套與眾不同的消費體系。其核心在於會員制度：年費260元的門票，先天就過濾價格敏感型顧客，留下的是願意為品質與體驗買單的消費者。山姆每家門店僅提供約4000個商品（SKU），遠低於傳統超市兩萬多的商品數量，卻能做到精挑細選，每個品類僅留下最受歡迎的爆款商品，像是39.9元的烤雞、168元的榴槤千層蛋糕，極大減少消費者的選擇壓力。

在營造中產生活方式方面，山姆也下足功夫：大包裝商品暗示顧客擁有寬敞的廚房與冰箱，週末時段的試吃活動猶如免費自助餐，成為帶小孩「省一餐」的好去處；而其精緻商品如瑞士卷、麻糬麵包等，更因「網紅」效應成為小紅書上的打卡熱點。許多消費者不僅購買，更是拍照分享到社群平台，讓商品本身成為「階層認同」的象徵。山姆的商業模式也異於常規零售，近六成利潤來自會員費，其單店年收入高達15億元，毛利率超過20%。以上海山姆旗艦店為例，開業首日會員卡即告售罄，甚至出現黃牛代購大型毛絨熊，每月可獲利十萬元的奇景。

回顧這兩家超市的成功，不難發現它們的共同點在於「不靠商品差價賺錢，而靠情緒價值創造利潤」。胖東來讓三四線城市顧客在高壓社會中感受到被尊重與體貼，打造一種「被當作人」的情感依附；山姆則透過商品與體驗塑造中產階級的身份認同與生活想像，使消費變成社交與自我定位的一部分。胖東來的流量來自抖音等平台上「服務神話」的病毒式傳播，而山姆則在小紅書上成為「精緻生活」的代名詞。

與此形成鮮明對比的是，多數傳統超市在這場「人心爭奪戰」中節節敗退。永輝、大潤發等品牌依然困於「低價競爭」與內卷泥沼，員工薪資低、服務品質差，導致顧客流失，形成惡性循環；盒馬雖試圖融合山姆的會員制與胖東來的服務體系，卻在成本上無法支撐，最終被迫關閉多家門店。本土超市則更缺乏改變的勇氣，捨不得提升員工待遇，也不敢閉店休息，只能在「省小錢、丟大錢」的局面中逐漸被市場邊緣化。

胖東來與山姆的成功，說明零售的未來早已不是簡單的「人找貨」或「貨找人」，而是「人、貨、場」三者關係的全面重構。在低信任社會中，胖東來證明了極致服務的價值；而在中產焦慮與身份建構的浪潮下，山姆則提供一種被認可的生活方式。對於其他零售商而言，未來的路徑只有兩條：要麼學胖東來，把顧客寵成巨嬰；要麼學山姆，把購物變成階層認證。最怕的是既拼不過價格，也服務不過別人，還沒有屬於自己的定位，那麼只能眼睜睜看著自己在市場上被淘汰。

At a time when China’s retail industry is generally trapped in the quagmire of price wars, low profit margins, and waves of store closures, two very different supermarket brands have defied the odds and achieved sustained profitability. These are Pangdonglai, known for its “extreme service” in third- and fourth-tier cities, and Sam’s Club, which targets middle-class families with its “membership + curated products” model. Their success proves that modern retail is no longer about “who’s cheaper,” but rather “who understands people better.”

Pangdonglai is often regarded as the "utopian laboratory" of China’s retail sector. Located in places like Xuchang, Henan, it has no ambition for rapid expansion, nor does it rely on capital investment. Instead, it thrives on exceptional service and human-centered management, transforming an ordinary supermarket into a beloved local "tourist attraction." What astonishes customers the most is its obsession with customer service: there are no return conditions—half-eaten watermelon deemed not sweet enough can be returned, and clothes worn for a month can be returned if the customer no longer likes them. The store offers highly personalized amenities, with seven types of shopping carts, including ones with magnifying glasses for seniors. On rainy days, employees hold umbrellas and escort shoppers to their cars; security guards offer valet parking; janitors clean the floor on their knees; and staff even help customers write love letters. This near-religious dedication to service often leaves first-time visitors amazed and questioning whether it’s real.

In terms of business strategy, Pangdonglai follows a counter-mainstream approach. Staff salaries are significantly above market average—entry-level employees earn over 6,000 RMB per month, while managers can earn millions annually. The stores close every Tuesday and take five days off for Chinese New Year. Founder Yu Donglai openly says, “We can make less money, but people shouldn't be worked to death.” The company remains unlisted and resists expansion, opening only 13 stores in 27 years to ensure service quality. In 2024, revenue surpassed 16.9 billion RMB. Despite its seemingly “irrational” business model, Pangdonglai achieves high per-square-meter sales and customer spending. Its Xuchang store alone generates over 3 billion RMB annually, five times more efficient than a typical Yonghui Superstore. Many customers visit not just to shop, but to experience the service. On Douyin (Chinese TikTok), videos related to the “Pangdonglai service challenge” have been viewed over a billion times.

In contrast, Sam’s Club positions itself as a “symbol of middle-class identity,” building a unique consumer ecosystem centered on its membership model. The annual membership fee of 260 RMB filters out price-sensitive shoppers, leaving a customer base willing to pay for quality and experience. Each store offers only about 4,000 SKUs, far fewer than the 20,000+ of traditional supermarkets. Yet this curation ensures that only the most popular and high-demand items remain, such as the 39.9 RMB roasted chicken or the 168 RMB durian mille crepe cake—greatly reducing decision fatigue for customers.

Sam’s Club also excels at cultivating a middle-class lifestyle image. Its large-pack products suggest spacious kitchens and refrigerators; weekend sampling events resemble free buffets and are popular with families seeking to save on meals; and its viral items like Swiss rolls and mochi bread often become photo-worthy “check-in” points on social media platforms like Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book). Many customers share their purchases online, transforming goods into symbols of social status and lifestyle identity.

Sam’s business model also deviates from conventional retail. Nearly 60% of its profits come from membership fees, with individual stores generating up to 1.5 billion RMB annually and profit margins exceeding 20%. For instance, the flagship Shanghai store sold out all its membership cards on opening day, and stories emerged of scalpers earning over 100,000 RMB a month reselling giant plush bears from the store.

Looking at the success of these two chains, it becomes clear that their common denominator is not earning through product price differentials, but through emotional value. Pangdonglai provides third- and fourth-tier city customers with a rare sense of respect and care in a high-pressure society, creating emotional attachment through a “treated as a human being” experience. Sam’s, on the other hand, offers a sense of identity and aspirational lifestyle, making shopping part of social signaling and self-perception. Pangdonglai’s popularity stems from viral “service myth” content on Douyin, while Sam’s dominates Xiaohongshu as the epitome of a refined lifestyle.

In stark contrast, most traditional supermarkets are losing ground in this “battle for hearts.” Brands like Yonghui and RT-Mart remain stuck in low-price competition and internal stagnation, with low employee wages and poor service leading to customer loss and a vicious cycle. Hema (Freshippo) tried to combine Sam’s membership model with Pangdonglai’s service system, but ultimately couldn’t sustain the cost and had to close many locations. Domestic supermarket chains, meanwhile, often lack the courage to change—unwilling to raise wages or give employees rest days—and end up marginalized in the market by “saving pennies and losing pounds.”

The success of Pangdonglai and Sam’s Club shows that the future of retail lies not in simple models like “people searching for products” or “products finding people,” but in a complete reconfiguration of the relationship between people, goods, and spaces. In a low-trust society, Pangdonglai proves the value of ultimate service; in an era of middle-class anxiety and identity construction, Sam’s offers a validated lifestyle. For other retailers, the future presents two paths: either follow Pangdonglai and pamper customers like oversized infants, or follow Sam’s and make shopping a form of class certification. The worst-case scenario is failing to compete on price, falling short on service, and having no unique identity—inevitably leading to obsolescence.