Bay Area's newest corner store will have zero customers inside it — by design
During the height of the post-Great Recession tech boom, Oakland's Golden Gate neighborhood was an emblem of the gentrification spilling across the bay from San Francisco: Market-rate condos went up, cafes with vegan options opened, and the rattling sounds of century-old homes undergoing extensive renovations filled the air. As real estate values skyrocketed, controversy erupted over efforts by real estate agents to rebrand the formerly working class area as "NOBE," a mashup of North Oakland, Berkeley, and Emeryville.
Now, the stretch of San Pablo Avenue that runs through the area is notable for its relative lack of commercial development, as demonstrated by empty lots and vacant storefronts. It's here that Oakland resident Saba Khalilnaji envisions the corner store of tomorrow.
A 'mini Amazon warehouse'
Some locals are worried that Khalilnaji's business will function more like a "ghost kitchen," bringing the community more problems than benefits. According to a recently approved application submitted to Oakland City Planning, "the store is not accessible to the general public." Khalilnaji told me that it will function more like a "mini Amazon warehouse" than a traditional market, the logical next step in the evolution of frictionless commerce.
The business's location will be on the ground floor of a mixed-use residential building on the corner of San Pablo Avenue and 53rd Street. Catering to the area's newer, wealthier demographic, Khalilnaji plans to stock the shop with more upscale products than those found at typical Oakland corner stores, such as organic produce, artisan snacks, kombucha and sustainable diapers.
"My vision is to have higher-end stores that are close to people that can deliver the things that you want every day quickly," he said. Third-party apps like DoorDash will make the deliveries.
The opposition to Khalilnaji's proposal is clear. "Every neighbor I've spoken with thinks it's a horrible idea," said Scott Owades, administrator of Golden Gate Neighbor, an Instagram page focused on neighborhood happenings. According to Owades, nearby residents would prefer to see a coffee shop or some other business that might lure foot traffic.
"We want more visitors to our area, and to have it be recognized as an interesting district versus just somewhere that you pass through on San Pablo," he explained.
The impact of 'ghost kitchens'
For clues on how a "delivery-only boutique robot corner store," as Owades calls it, could impact the neighborhood, he points to the nearby Adeline Food Hall (originally named Longfellow Food Pickup). Instead of counter service and tables like a traditional fast-casual eatery, the VC-backed "virtual restaurant" hub operates as a "ghost kitchen." Despite its one-and-a-half star Yelp rating, the Adeline Food Hall is "swarming with food delivery drivers," according to one frustrated reviewer, leading to traffic congestion in the residential area.
"There's rampant double-parking," Owades said. "I see cars parked in the bike lane and blocking the curb cut in the crosswalk at the end of the intersection."
According to Oakland Councilmember Dan Kalb, whose district includes Golden Gate, the "ghost kitchen never should have been allowed." Following an outcry from neighbors annoyed that their block has been turned into an Uber Eats loading zone, Kalb pushed for changing the zoning approval process "to prevent that kind of facility happening again" in a residential area. When we spoke, Kalb expressed concerns that potential negative parking impacts from Khalilnaji's store could be exacerbated by Alameda County Transportation Commission's San Pablo Corridor Project, an upcoming major overhaul that aims to reconfigure the street to make it more pedestrian- and transit-friendly.
In response to news that the zoning clearance permit for Khalilnaji's store had been approved by the Planning Department, he said, "Sometimes city staff from one department doesn't talk to another office. And they may make decisions, not realizing something else is happening."
Khalilnaji said that if his business was booming enough to create traffic problems, he would simply move the store to a more amenable location or pursue options for expanding parking capacity. He also pushed back on critiques that the impersonal nature of his store would be bad for the neighborhood.
"I think if anything is destroying the fabric of the community, it's having empty retail space everywhere," Khalilnaji said, citing one of the major conundrums faced by Oakland, San Francisco and many other places throughout the Bay Area still struggling to recover from the pandemic-era surge toward online shopping.
An entrepreneur with humble ambitions
In contrast to brash disruptors like Uber co-founder Travis Kalanick, who have upended entire sectors of the economy in recent years, Khalilnaji doesn't come across as the stereotypical tech bro. The soft-spoken 33-year-old told me that he hasn't reached out to any investors yet, saying, "I'm one hundred percent on my own right now." After learning how to solder at the age of nine, Khalilnaji went on to compete in the National Robotics Challenge during high school. A self-described "humanoid enthusiast," he sees developing this business as a way to turn his robotics hobby into a career.
Although Khalilnaji's current ambitions are relatively humble, Silicon Valley has proven remarkably adept at scaling up promising business models quickly, often before regulators have a chance to assess their potential impacts and formulate policies that might offset negative effects. Think of e-scooters blocking sidewalks that need to be used by disabled people, for example. When I reached out to SPUR, a prominent Bay Area public policy nonprofit organization focused on urban planning issues, to ask about potential implications of the "robot store" concept catching on, I was told they "have not done any direct research about this particular business model."
"The government, which is supposed to be a mediator between the public and the businessman, is completely unprepared. They're never sure what's coming out, because government doesn't have as many smart people as well paid [as the tech industry]," explained Richard Walker, author of "Pictures of a Gone City: Tech and the Dark Side of Prosperity in the San Francisco Bay Area" and UC Berkeley professor emeritus of geography.
Despite policymakers' failure to keep up with the speed of Silicon Valley's disruptive technologies, Walker brushes off fears that automation or AI are on the cusp of triggering widespread unemployment.
"I've been around long enough to know that the apocalypse has been predicted over and over, in terms of labor replacement, yet it never quite happens," he said, adding that even if the "robot store" may lack a human cashier, a flesh-and-blood security guard will probably be needed.
Khalilnaji told me that he takes concerns about the potential impact of his business seriously, which is why he will not be stocking alcohol or tobacco. As a consumer, I understand the appeal of online shopping, especially considering that so many basic items at places like CVS and Safeway are now behind locked plexiglass cases. On the other hand, I enjoy the serendipity of bumping into my neighbors at our local corner store and trading friendly banter with the longtime shopkeeper behind the counter.
Either way, Owades, the operator of the neighborhood's social page, remains skeptical, asking, "Isn't this what Amazon is for? They already have these huge distribution warehouses, so why do we need this on a major transit corridor?"
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