A Letter
Dear Big Bookstore Customer,
I know I haven't always been very gentle with you here in this blog. And I have said some unkind things about you. I've bitched a lot about the things you do that piss me off. No. Really. But that's no reason to end the relationship! I just needed to get some stuff off my chest. I didn't mean for you to break up with me!
This last weekend really hurt my feelings. It was Black Friday. Where were you? I waited and waited, but you never showed. I thought we had a date. OK. It's not like we actually sat down and made an appointment, but it's traditional - the Friday after Thanksgiving has always been our special day together! The day we set aside every year to spend together! I can't believe you just blew me off like that. I thought what we had was special. I thought it was different. I was so sure that I was different from all the other retailers with which you've had relationships in the past.
Don't I do things for you that other stores won't do? (Let's not be coy. I think you know what I'm talking about here. I bend over backwards to serve you. I go out of my way to meet your needs. I even go into the back room for you when you want something special that you just can't find elsewhere.) Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I've been too easy. My Mother always told me I should play harder to get.
So, yeah. Last weekend really hurt. When you didn't show on Friday, I was sure that you would make up for it on Saturday. I stayed late Friday night to fluff the displays so that when you did stagger in on Saturday, smelling of knock-off perfumes from whatever skanky big box retailers you'd been hanging out with the day before, you would be blown away and immediately regret ignoring me. But again you were nowhere to be found. That's when I started to really get pissed off. I was willing to chalk up Friday to those doorbuster specials that those cheap, tarty retailers were flaunting to get you to look at them. You know the ones I'm talking about. The $29.99 DVD players being sold by that slut Wal*Mart. God. Wal*Mart. She's so fucking common. But by Saturday I realized that the problem was deeper than that. You've begun to take our relationship for granted. Deep down, you think that no matter how late the hour, no matter how few days are left before Christmas, I will still be there for you. After you've satisfied your baser needs with those other retailers, you'll come crawling to me for some real service and sincere, meaningful merchandise - the kind you can't get elsewhere.
I only hope that when you come to your senses, that I can still be there for you. I'm not really sure that I can. I mean, I'll try, but by the time you get around to noticing me, it might be too late. There are other customers in the sea you know! And they'll all be lining up at the last minute trying to find the perfect gift, just like you. So I hope you'll understand that when the line is fifty customers deep at the registers you have only yourself to blame. When there are 10 people at the Information Desk and only two booksellers to service them, please know that it could have been so different if only you had paid a little more attention to me at the right time.
You could have had my undivided attention. You could have had me waiting on you hand and foot. I would have been, metaphorically, on my knees for you.
Maybe it's not too late to salvage this relationship. I'll be in the store every night this week. I'll be looking for you. But I can't wait forever.
Love always,
Disgruntled Bookseller
I know I haven't always been very gentle with you here in this blog. And I have said some unkind things about you. I've bitched a lot about the things you do that piss me off. No. Really. But that's no reason to end the relationship! I just needed to get some stuff off my chest. I didn't mean for you to break up with me!
This last weekend really hurt my feelings. It was Black Friday. Where were you? I waited and waited, but you never showed. I thought we had a date. OK. It's not like we actually sat down and made an appointment, but it's traditional - the Friday after Thanksgiving has always been our special day together! The day we set aside every year to spend together! I can't believe you just blew me off like that. I thought what we had was special. I thought it was different. I was so sure that I was different from all the other retailers with which you've had relationships in the past.
Don't I do things for you that other stores won't do? (Let's not be coy. I think you know what I'm talking about here. I bend over backwards to serve you. I go out of my way to meet your needs. I even go into the back room for you when you want something special that you just can't find elsewhere.) Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I've been too easy. My Mother always told me I should play harder to get.
So, yeah. Last weekend really hurt. When you didn't show on Friday, I was sure that you would make up for it on Saturday. I stayed late Friday night to fluff the displays so that when you did stagger in on Saturday, smelling of knock-off perfumes from whatever skanky big box retailers you'd been hanging out with the day before, you would be blown away and immediately regret ignoring me. But again you were nowhere to be found. That's when I started to really get pissed off. I was willing to chalk up Friday to those doorbuster specials that those cheap, tarty retailers were flaunting to get you to look at them. You know the ones I'm talking about. The $29.99 DVD players being sold by that slut Wal*Mart. God. Wal*Mart. She's so fucking common. But by Saturday I realized that the problem was deeper than that. You've begun to take our relationship for granted. Deep down, you think that no matter how late the hour, no matter how few days are left before Christmas, I will still be there for you. After you've satisfied your baser needs with those other retailers, you'll come crawling to me for some real service and sincere, meaningful merchandise - the kind you can't get elsewhere.
I only hope that when you come to your senses, that I can still be there for you. I'm not really sure that I can. I mean, I'll try, but by the time you get around to noticing me, it might be too late. There are other customers in the sea you know! And they'll all be lining up at the last minute trying to find the perfect gift, just like you. So I hope you'll understand that when the line is fifty customers deep at the registers you have only yourself to blame. When there are 10 people at the Information Desk and only two booksellers to service them, please know that it could have been so different if only you had paid a little more attention to me at the right time.
You could have had my undivided attention. You could have had me waiting on you hand and foot. I would have been, metaphorically, on my knees for you.
Maybe it's not too late to salvage this relationship. I'll be in the store every night this week. I'll be looking for you. But I can't wait forever.
Love always,
Disgruntled Bookseller
posted by ereshkigal at 2:02 AM
5 Comments:
Yea... Was it I or was it suprisingly DEAD on Black Friday at Big Bookstores? We were all hoping that perhaps after the malls started closing the overflow of customers who have nothing better to do in their lives would start pouring in... Perhaps it WAS that hooker Wal*Mart! She IS open 24 hours a day... Whatever the matter, Saturday Night was a tad busier, but nothing like I was expecting...
okay, well here's the thing. It was great when we were younger. You were bookish and eclectic and not like all those phony superficial stores. You had character and you didn't care what all the other stores were doing -- you did your own thing and you were true to yourself. But now...well, you've changed. Yes, yes I've changed too--I don't want to have think so hard and I'm too old to look good in bohemian clothes. But you. You sold out. You hop on every trend like a sea-weary sailor hops on women. You've started wearing Dockers and chinos and collared shirts. You've got body care products in your check-out lane, for gods sake!! You were beautiful and unique and I loved you for your character, your intelligence, and your self-respect. What happened? Was it the money? Did the lure of fast easy money entice you? I don't recognize you any more. Maybe I never really knew you. Maybe you were just after the money all along. I can't see you any more. It makes me too sad. I hope the 'new' you works out for you. I hope that you get whatever it is you're after. But you won't get me anymore.
Sure I've changed. I can't deny that. When we're losing the attention of our significant others we sometimes do desperate things to attract them again. We start mixing things up in the bed...um, stockroom. We throw in a a new twist here or there. I mean, you say you want the same old me, but then your eyes stray to all of those other, flashier stores. What's a retailer supposed to think? Yeah, I carry a lot of stuff I didn't used to carry. But if you look underneath the extra makeup and beauty products you'll still find the same old me - just wanting to be loved and appreciated. I can still give you great merchandise. I still provide better service than anyone else (including that boring old hag, Rival Bookstore). Inside I'm still the same sensitive, intelligent bookstore that I always was. Don't blame me for your faithlessness. If you truly loved me, you would see beyond the outward appearances. But I know you'll come back. You always do in the end.
Now MY feelings are hurt -- as one who must at times resort to Wal*Mart when the thrift stores are bereft of faded jeans in my size. (For some reason, the crotch always wears out.)
My initial reaction to your post, Anonymous, is "TMI!"
On second reflection, however, I'm wondering if I know you.
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