– by Anita
I’m mildly vexed that I am not autumning in New York at the Sniffa Fall Ball, it’s still a week to the World Percheron Congress so in the meantime Im’o be a bit Crabalicious! What’s the stuff that chaps our last cheese?? Let’s crab over morning coffee (or last night’s tea, depending upon your time zone).
Behold, some of My Crabs – YMMV. Please chime in with your own but the Ground Rules of Civility still apply: NO personal names and no real flaming, okay? Don’t make me come back there…
Unpacking merchandise on the shop floor during retail hours. If you’re a grocer or the Gap, yeah. I get it. I don’t want to have to wait ’til tomorrow to buy crackers, so stack away! and for some reason the sight of kids in headsets unloading sweaters from cardboard boxes seems to be part of that retail frenzy .
But!! if you are luxury boutique, selling 4-figure handbags, please don’t. Okay? Here’s the thing: I know the bag only cost you $250 to make, if that, and that a lot of what I’m paying for is the ‘experience’ – the gorgeous boutique, the gorgeous SA …. your Bentley er, the 2 or 3 accessories artfully arranged in gorgeously lit drawers that close with that soft ‘snick’ that just screams MONEY! – but that’s the point! I’M PAYING FOR THE EXPERIENCE! And a huuuge part of that experience is the fantasy that my $2000+ bag was made by artisanal French-Italian elves in a 13th Century monastery and it comes to the shop in a horse-drawn carriage and a sprinkling of gold dust. Watching you unpack 12 of them from a giant, battered cardboard box, pulling them out of those plastic shipping bags…well, it just throws a big ol’ poopy diaper in the punchbowl, y’know? And it makes me feel dumb. C’mon! at least gimme a kiss!
“Do you need change?” Stop. Please. Can we go back to the practice of quietly picking up the billfold, attending to the transaction and quietly replacing said billfold on the table. Unless I’m in a diner, in which case go Flo and slap that check down before the plate hits the table. We’re cool. Otherwise, see PAYING FOR THE EXPERIENCE above. I know some consultant started this. I’d like to meet up with him behind some restaurant…
No, you CAN’T have it! I accept the perfume ‘image’ concept – to a point. And I guess if you’ve got Big ConglomoBucks or you’re an indie with a Sugary Somebody you can do what you want – Sales be damned. Or hey, maybe I’m the dumbo here. Is the ‘extreme exclusive’ still a trigger for insane desire? Well, in 2010, I find I am Not That People. Folks is tired, honeys. Okay with waiting a bit, okay with shipping, to a certain extent. and I’ll even play along and call a store direct, because you won’t let my regular SA do it – but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fly to Mars to get your stuff. Or I can only get it in some extreme presentation or give a blood sample or join a club or?……….what ever happened to just making an excellent product and making it somewhat reasonable to attain?
Ooops! My bad. Forget the Preachy about not engaging Bad Manners…oddly, I just realized that it seems to me people are LESS bad-mannered than they were a decade ago. Maybe the Busted Bubbles? If you are taking the subway instead of a Town Car these days, you probably have ramped up your survival skilz – courtesy being one of them. You never know if the person on the strap next to you is that ‘donkey on the edge’! In the country? Don’t harsh the guy in the combine. Be patient – he will pull to the right just as soon as he can. Whipping around him in a fury will only get you creamed by the combine coming in the opposite direction.
The more you buy, the more you save. Yeah, yeah. I know. An OLD canard – but it’s still out there (just got one today). And it’s still stupid.
Pedicures. At home or at the salon, this is one thing that seems to grow ever more essential, as I grow ever-older. I don’t remember my toenails causing such drama back in the Mesozoic Era but now….man! Velociraptors! Jeebers! I’m turning into my Great-Aunt Edna! What’s next? Nose hairs?!
My fear of the cold. I live in Illinois. I need to get over myself. Or move to Miami.
I could go on but……nah! Your turn. What steps on your Very Last Nerve?!
photo: SNL – Mike Myers as Linda Richman
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