In June, reports of widespread “Sam’s Club membership cancellations” circulated on Chinese social media, following a notice from a Beijing Sam’s Club store that limited free sample availability to 15 minutes. The announcement became a flashpoint, leading to significant backlash from China’s middle class. On platforms including Weibo, Douban, and WeChat Moments, users expressed their frustration:
“I pay an annual membership fee, I queue up to enter Sam’s, and now you’re telling me there’s a time limit to sample a tiny piece of cake?”
Observers noted that members’ frustrations intensified as these changes seemed indicative of a broader shift. Reports emerged of popular items disappearing from shelves and mass-market brands, such as Orion Choco Pies, replacing established favorites. For many, Sam’s—a retailer once perceived as emblematic of a “quality lifestyle” for the middle class—appeared to be losing its appeal.
However, broader analysis indicates that the underlying issue may be a shift in middle-class perceptions, rather than a failure by Sam’s itself.
Once Upon a Time, Sam’s Was a Projection of Middle-Class Belonging
When Sam’s first gained traction in China, its appeal went beyond cost efficiency, product selection, or its signature oversized American packaging. For many, it represented an aspirational lifestyle:
- You didn’t have to work 996 and could still stock a month’s worth of household goods in one trip.
- You didn’t have to own a home, but could still enjoy a “life with daily warmth” in a rented apartment.
- You didn’t have to go to America, but you could still feel a sliver of consumer dignity between shopping carts and freezer aisles.
Sam’s success, similar to brands such as HeyTea, Nayuki, and Lululemon, as well as lifestyle trends like frisbee or camping, reflected cycles of middle-class aspiration and self-projection.
“One year of powering it with love, and I finally canceled my membership.”This line, though delivered with sarcasm, reflects a common sentiment among many middle-class families.
They supported Sam’s with real purchasing power, treating it as a symbol of a lifestyle rooted in price comparison, stockpiling, and refined shopping.
But as patterns like “Orion Choco Pies replacing Ferrero,” “disappearance of bestsellers,” and “standardized items replacing cult favorites” became increasingly common, people started to feel it was no longer worth it.
One netizen wrote:“It’s not that I’ve downgraded my consumption—it’s that Sam’s no longer lives up to me.”That hit a nerve.
Sam’s rapidly attracted Chinese consumers by cultivating perceptions of “curated quality” and “social segmentation” through its membership model.
However, as product offerings increasingly mirrored those of ordinary supermarkets and the shopping experience lost its sense of novelty, Sam’s shifted from being viewed as “the ideal retail partner” to “a store with decent value.”
The High Wall of Membership Is Starting to Crumble
This wave of cancellations didn’t happen overnight. Since the second half of last year, many members have noted a clear decline in Sam’s product appeal. Many bestsellers were removed from shelves and replaced with standardized products.
The reasons aren’t mysterious. First, global supply chain disruptions drove up the costs of many high-value imported products that Sam’s relied on. Second, local competitors like Freshippo began copying Sam’s model—and even overtaking it in categories such as frozen food and prepared meals, thereby encroaching on Sam’s advantages. Third, Sam’s internal quality control system struggled to keep pace with the rapidly growing number of members. A surge in membership necessitated more standardized product offerings, which sacrificed the ability to create viral bestsellers.
More notably, Sam’s faces increasing difficulty in balancing cost-effectiveness with a sense of exclusivity.
For example, in an effort to maintain low prices, Sam’s introduced additional mass-market brands, which diluted its differentiation. Members began to question the value of their annual fees. From an industry perspective, Sam’s appears to be encountering the first significant bottleneck for high-end retail membership models: Once growth slows and negative sentiment accumulates, minor flaws can be magnified into a broader brand crisis.
Canceling Is Easy—Replacing Sam’s Is Not
What’s interesting is that despite the complaints, there’s no significant data indicating a decline in Sam’s membership. In fact, many people who canceled their cards ended up signing up again in a different city, because they realized there were no better options. Costco hasn’t rolled out nationwide. Freshippo can’t match the speed of new product updates. Aldi is too niche. Yonghui lacks a down-to-earth vibe.
While Sam’s may have lost some of its appeal, it remains, in the view of many middle-class consumers, the most viable option available.
It’s like complaining that Starbucks waters down its drinks, or that Lululemon is too expensive. But after walking around, you’ll find there are very few viable alternatives. Their success doesn’t lie in perfection, but in structural and systematic advantages.
This type of brand positioning makes LABUBU (a collectible toy) more than just a figure—it becomes a vessel for youth culture and emotion. Fans willingly invest time and money, even participating in user-generated content and secondary creation, creating a positive feedback loop in marketing.
Has the middle class become disillusioned? Perhaps.
Despite this sense of disillusionment, daily life and consumer habits persist. For now, Sam’s has shifted from an idealized status to a more pragmatic role. The question of which retailer will ultimately become the “ideal supermarket for the middle class” remains open.
[Disclaimer]: The above content reflects analysis of publicly available information, expert insights, and BCC research. It does not constitute investment advice. BCC is not responsible for any losses resulting from reliance on the views expressed herein. Investors should exercise caution.