Everyone who knows me knows full well that I don't like chain stores, outright hate malls, and prefer to do business with people like you and me who don't send their profits off to some far away place to be spent on things that will do no one any good (except maybe prostitutes, drug dealers (legal and otherwise), and boat salesmen).
Unfortunately, enough people in enough places around the world, and especially here in the U.S. don't feel this way, or don't ACT this way (which is, after all, more important, no?). The net result is that there are very few small retailers in most segments of the retail marketplace, but lots of mega-stores (Blowes, Homeboy Peepshow, Small Wart, Targforget, K-Hole, Smears, JC WeWantYourLastPenny, etc) and chain outfits which have no clue what customers want, let alone how to provide it in a business like fashion (McBlowChunks, Murder King, Pizza Puts, Taco SmeelslikeEColi, Foot Fokker, Chumps, etc). Sure, some of these places offer good value for your money (but not always, you have to watch them closer than a pick pocket), but at what end cost?
So needless to say, thanks to this situation, I inevitably HAVE to go to one of these places once in a while - I mean when you want something specific, and the local guys don't carry it, what else is there? Yeah, I can shop the net. BUT... what I wanted today is an item costing less than $10 and weighing less than a few ounces - not the kind of thing you buy online or by mail order without getting completely HOSED on shipping and handling costs. I mean who wants a $5 to $10 item with $5 to $10 shipping added on?!? And then there are the countless items that you just have to see and/or examine to tell if they meet your needs (size, shape, space, feeling, arrangement of controls, etc).
It was bad enough that I had to try on twenty pair of shoes before I could find one that fit reasonably well, looked nice (no day glow, no gaudy B.S., etc, as in something you could wear to a job interview and not get tossed out on your butt for). The pair of shoes I end up with are fitting the bill really well except the damn shoe strings aren't long enough to tie without help of a laparoscopic surgeon's toolkit. Ok, shoestrings are cheap and insignificant, right? I'll get them with the crappy strings and just replace them right off the get go. It has to be better than another half dozen shoe stores (and countless more dozens of shoes) - most of which are at the god forsaken MALL (YUCK!).
I put that off for two weeks.
So off I go today in search of the shoestrings I found on the net and like fairly well. Length, color, style, all good, and in a few different brands. Given that the ones I’ve settled on are very popular with runners and tri-athletes, this shouldn’t be like looking for a new Beemer in a Kansas cornfield. Since I live in a large metro area, shouldn’t be too hard, right? HA! To demonstrate WHY I don’t like malls, and chain stores, let me tell you about the trip.
The local mall isn’t huge (by today’s U.S. standards), but downright gargantuan compared to how folks shopped fifty and more years ago. According to the local phone book’s yellow pages there are about half a dozen places at the mall that might carry these things.
As a side rant, no, I don’t use the online yellow pages unless I’ve misplaced the paper one – they are always out of date (and think about this, the paper ones only come out ONCE A YEAR, but are MORE UP TO DATE?!?), rarely list addresses which are useful on the streets I travel (1595 Widget Way, yet Widget Way ends at 520, or no one except the web mapping dolt knows it by Widget Way since the locals call it Bozo Street and have since it was renamed in 1941). Plus how about all those dozens of sponsored ads they throw up in front of the actual listings, all claiming to do business in your town, but have an address in SOME OTHER STATE… THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY. Oh yeah, I’m driving across the country to buy a freaking broom!
Anyhow, back to the mall. To no great surprise, given that mall stores come and go like the breeze, most of these places are no longer around, at least anywhere a normally sighted adult can find. I did find no less than THREE Cingular, THREE Verizon, TWO Sprint, and ONE T-Mobile cel phone places (not counting the stores in the plazas surrounding the mall); SIX stores that seem to exist by selling cheap ass, vending machine quality (got a quarter ma?), ear rings; fifteen or so restaurants with lines of other dolts waiting in line for mediocre food and bad service (did I mention I needed a drink because of a bad taste in my mouth, like, huh, huh, RIGHT NOW, PLEASE; and some idiot forgot to get any cash before this misadventure, so the soda machine isn’t of any help).
Just about the time that jumping off the balcony in hopes of breaking my neck when landing down on the first floor seems like an improvement over more store trolling, I found a pair of shoe laces ALMOST like what I want. CLOSE ENOUGH, damn it! Get me to hell out of here, Scotty, beam me up, warp factor 75 after I’m there, no excuses or I’ll BEAM YOU DOWN HERE!
There is ONE WHOLE CUSTOMER in front of me. She is getting ONE PAIR OF SHOES, $25. She has ONE COUPON for $15 off. Are your Algebraic skills sharp? With around 8% tax, the cashier tells this lady it will be $22ish. I couldn’t see the poor lady’s face, but her demeanor said it all. I could see her child’s face, which was priceless. I’ve never seen a twelve year old roll their eyes that far back into their head… usually that skill is mastered once one achieves parenthood, no?
This woman was a saint… I kid you not. She calmly explains TWICE the mathematics and amounts involved. Now, needless to say, both she, her child, and I have determined at least a ball park of the proper price in our heads, in about two tenths of a second. Einstein gets her calculator out. Stop the presses we have a new headline! The customer is… RIGHT. $25 less $15 is $10! Gosh, without the skills of a mosquito, we can say for sure that even with tax $11 should ought to get us covered and some change!
“Oh,” she says. There is a flurry of screen punching and key pressing, then she, in all seriousness, tells Mother Theresa that she owes… TWENTY-SEVEN DOLLARS AND NINETY-NINE CENTS.
Ok, at this point I have to turn away or I am going to bust out and fall down laughing hysterically in a fit on the floor. So I can’t tell you the physical reaction of the other customers. Again this saintly soul explains to her the mathematics and amounts involved. Einstein calls her manger over to void the transaction. Dilbert’s boss wants to know why and what happened?
“Well, it’s screwing up like it did before,” she says. And to further “save face” points to many places on the screen only they can see, and says, “see here.” As if the now seven customers in line didn’t notice she was dumber than a box of rocks (no insult intended towards rocks, boxed or otherwise). Oh yeah, the computer must certainly be what is wrong here…
Dilbert’s boss zeroes it out, and Einstein goes back to work. Another TWO MINUTES LATER and Mother Theresa can finally enter her PIN code for her debit card. Holy shit, Batman! I might get out of here before they tow my car as an abandoned vehicle!
Let me tell you, at this point I was ready to pay $5 for these damn shoestrings even though the price tag was $2.50, just so I didn’t have to have Déjà vu all over again. Somehow it was $2.41, though, not that I paid attention in the store, I just got the hell out of there.
Meanwhile, I am now convinced that some combination of things I’d consumed at the Chinese restaurant has combined to form kerosene in my internal organs, because that sure is what it tasted like in my mouth! The only place I can find with beverages and no line is… wait, you won’t believe this one… STARBUCKS.
I try not to run up to the register. To quote Frank from “Everyone Loves Raymond,” “Holy CRAP!” This bimbette behind the counter is the most frightening thing I’ve ***EVER*** seen, including many very good Halloween costumes and some very realistic looking movies.
Nope, her hair is there, only one natural looking color, and only in all the proper spots… except her eyebrows. These she’s apparently shaved off. But that’s not weird… hey I used to hang out in Northampton Massachusetts after all.
No, Ms. Hilton here apparently regretted that decision, so now she’s drawn some back on. Nope, still not weird in my opinion. Seen it many times before.
Brittany here has forgone makeup and apparently used a permanent Sharpie marker, but it had to be a very fine point one. I’ve seen my fair share of makeup on women, from Frankenstein/Mimi from Drew Carey types to gals who looked better than photo models. It weren’t no makeup. Maybe Krylon spray paint? Who knows? It wasn’t a natural shade of black, either, it was weird - too dark not to notice, way too dark to be natural colored, too light to be jet black, almost glossy yet flat at the same time.
As if this weren’t bad enough, it still isn’t weird yet. The weird part is that she ain’t Van Gough either. One brow was almost naturally shaped (waaaaaaaay too thin, but close on overall shape)… the other was an inverted V, though slightly misshapen. Think Mister Spock after gender transformation, a dye job, on LSD, having just finished the universe’s largest bong of Mary Jane, a few hash brownies, and a case of Romulan Ale to boot.
I.
AM.
NOT.
KIDDING.
Then there was the young mother on the upper floor of the mall, leaning on the railing, YELLING, AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS, to her daughter. Oh like THAT is going to do ANYTHING. Say, do you have a double wide or just a single wide trailer? No offense to those who have no other option than (or choose) to live in a trailer and/or trailer park (I'm sure the majority of whom are decent, honest, upstanding, humans), but this woman was the personification of the generic trailer park trash stereotype. I wonder how many times she's denied her kid(s) food and/or other necessities so she could shop at Nordstroms or Frederick's of Hollywood (no Victoria's Secret at this mall, can you believe it?!?)? Well... except for those times she spent it on speed before she could get to the mall... I mean how else does a gal at least 10 years younger than me look 20 years OLDER? Meth will do it, and FAST!
As if I didn't have a low enough opinion of society in general, this mall experience has lowered it yet a few more notches.
Somehow the generation between my son and myself, the ones who will be making all the decisions once my generation gets too old, SCARES THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF ME!!!
When I get old enough to be shoved aside, I’m going to Australia… I swear!
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