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rmI miss the way stores were when I was a child. This may be specific to me, and the world I grew up in, as much as it is also about age, but it is one of the many things I am snobbish and irritated about.
We bought our pasta and bread and cheese at a store that made all those things fresh. The only chain bookstore I had ever seen was the giant Doubleday on 57th Street and those nasty little Walden Books at the airport. People could write checks and clerks chatted with you, knew about the product and didn't inherently loathe you for making them do their job. People who worked at bookstores read books, and people who worked at food shops were more adventurous than goddamn Wendy's. We had a butcher market with sawdust on the floor. We got our bread from the bread shop and candy from the candy shop. And even with all that, I still had to write essays in French about how stores in France were better than stores here, because Hewitt (and my French teacher) was crazy.
At any rate, I was just in Best Buy (not that they had the CD I wanted) and they search your bags when you leave. I _hate_ that. And I hate it because it doesn't really work -- because they make you open your bag, and then open it again if the detector goes off, but they also say how they aren't allowed to go through your bag, so if the detector goes off everyone just bloody stands there with their thumbs up their asses, and I'm being treated like a criminal because the future isn't now. I loathe it and everything about it.
They tried to take my fucking CD from me. Like hi... It's Wicked in a broken PJ Harvey case... I didn't steal it from you. It made me furious. And all the dumb people who work there being all "is there a problem?" Yes, there's a fucking problem and I'm not it.
It was inevitable that I was going to short circuit about something today, and better today than during the work of the next three days (I don't think I have an assistant this year, that'll be hard). Grrrrr.
Anyway... then I stepped outside, and one of those very small things that could only possibly be funny to me happened, and I couldn't stop laughing. And that was nice.
We bought our pasta and bread and cheese at a store that made all those things fresh. The only chain bookstore I had ever seen was the giant Doubleday on 57th Street and those nasty little Walden Books at the airport. People could write checks and clerks chatted with you, knew about the product and didn't inherently loathe you for making them do their job. People who worked at bookstores read books, and people who worked at food shops were more adventurous than goddamn Wendy's. We had a butcher market with sawdust on the floor. We got our bread from the bread shop and candy from the candy shop. And even with all that, I still had to write essays in French about how stores in France were better than stores here, because Hewitt (and my French teacher) was crazy.
At any rate, I was just in Best Buy (not that they had the CD I wanted) and they search your bags when you leave. I _hate_ that. And I hate it because it doesn't really work -- because they make you open your bag, and then open it again if the detector goes off, but they also say how they aren't allowed to go through your bag, so if the detector goes off everyone just bloody stands there with their thumbs up their asses, and I'm being treated like a criminal because the future isn't now. I loathe it and everything about it.
They tried to take my fucking CD from me. Like hi... It's Wicked in a broken PJ Harvey case... I didn't steal it from you. It made me furious. And all the dumb people who work there being all "is there a problem?" Yes, there's a fucking problem and I'm not it.
It was inevitable that I was going to short circuit about something today, and better today than during the work of the next three days (I don't think I have an assistant this year, that'll be hard). Grrrrr.
Anyway... then I stepped outside, and one of those very small things that could only possibly be funny to me happened, and I couldn't stop laughing. And that was nice.
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Date: 2004-07-17 11:42 am (UTC)We're about the same age, but I grew up on that other coast in the land to strip malls and superstores. I really haven't known much else. After living in the midwest for the last 6 years, it was even worse. At least in California there were small specialty shops around. In Missouri, there were only huge chain franchises and I didn't have much of a choice but to buy my groceries at Walmart and eat at places like Olive Garden. Columbia, a college town of around 70,000 people, has 5 Walmarts!
I knew it was awful, but didn't really grasp it until moving to Seattle. I live in the Fremont neighborhood and the neighborhood association doesn't permit chain stores to set up shop in Fremont. There are no golden arches, no Walmarts, only independent grocers and tons of fun, unique shops. Oh and the restaurants are amazing too. We don't have a candy store or pasta shop (that I know of- I've only been here a month), but I love the one of a kind dress shops and the weekly farmer's market. The pizza shop is amazing too. I love that unique, small businesses thrive here.
I still go to bigger retail places for many things, but I'm preferring seeking out the specialty shops for many things now. They are friendlier and I feel better about supporting them.