Streets of Pyrite, Nickel Lining

  In the past year or two, I have realized that my favorite places to shop-or simply browse-are quiet little stores that you often find in the historic districts of most towns or cities. Perhaps it is because I enjoy mysteries so much, or maybe my loathing for commercial franchises like Wal-Mart and Target are growing. Regardless, if I am presented with the choice to investigate a tiny store with a creative name, or instead take a trip to stores similar to the aforementioned chains, I will almost always prefer the smaller business.
     I think small businesses have a personal touch that larger industries lack. They are tied into the community they exist within, rather than being a bloated emporium of commerce. Take a look at art galleries promoting local artists, or bookstores with owners who work their own tills, and know every customer by name. These businesses do not content themselves with shoving an overpriced, potentially unnecessary product into your hands and sending you on your way. No, the smaller stores are the ones that take their time, offering advice when asked, and a (more) honest opinion than associates working for larger chains.

Before my vitriol earns me criticism, know that I worked for a large electronics chain for almost three years selling phones, computers, and the occasional television. I will not name the company, but over the course of 988 days wearing the blue polo shirt with a yellow price-tag sewn into the breast, I learned just how mechanical and ruthless big business can get in the pursuit of profit. In morning meetings, the other employees and I would group in a circle and discuss the weekly deals (which were, in effect, advertisements of products rather than actual sales, more often than not) and selling strategies. “Make the customer see the value of the product,” was the advice the sales team was given before the store opened. “Get to every customer, and get them what they need, including the things they don’t know they need yet. They want a computer? What about a printer to go with it? What about ink for the printer? What about a new monitor for that computer? What about protection for the item (We’ll come back to this one.)?”

This strategy was-and remains-a double-edged sword. Yes, it’s beneficial to understand a customer’s needs. This practice ensures that their needs are satisfied, and that when they get their purchase(s) home, that they are ready to function as anticipated. Personally, I would ask a few questions to understand the person I was speaking to, and their situation, then offer a few additional items if I truly thought the customer needed them.

My problem stemmed from an ethical crisis I faced about a year into working at the store. Employees at many of the major chains are evaluated based on their salesmanship. Put simply, my peers and I were given a quota to meet in order to be profitable for the company. While this is an understandable need (being profitable), the situation complicates itself if sales are slow, or not bringing a profit to the store. As an employee whose hours and chances for promotion were dependent upon selling skills, I must admit that there were times when my need to make a good sale for my own benefit outweighed my interest in the customer’s needs. I am not proud of this fact, but it is a harsh truth of retail life: If you work for a retail company long enough, you eventually grow desensitized to customers financial limitations, or the risks they are taking with their money at your recommendation.

Imagine being told to sell a computer to a family around the holidays. You greet them, the husband, wife, and two children. The want a new computer for family use. They tell you up front that they are looking to spend no more than $400; you try not to wince when they say this. Here’s a poorly-kept secret about economics in retail life: Profit doesn’t actually come from the core product alone. The real money is in the accessories, the software upgrades, and the protection plan.

Now, in order to do your job as the company requires, you have to convince that family to break their spending limit, and feel satisfied having done so. The options you present to them are not cons, simply offers heavily emphasizing the benefits vs. dangers of having each selection. Dozens of times each day, this cycle will repeat itself, often following a small number of patterns which, within a few months of holding the job, you the employee will recognize and learn to follow when possible or shift when necessary.

Neither I, nor anyone who worked with me at the store ever fully lost our moral compass, but each day ate away at us as a group, with little to no genuine support from management. A few tried, I will give them credit, but in the end the endless pressure, given enough time, wears well-meaning employees down to emotional dust. We were not heartless, simply conditioned.

I do not believe working for, or owning a business is ever easy. Quite the contrary, it requires an iron will, adamant work ethic, and an endless supply of patience and ingenuity. Setbacks appear with uncanny timing, while unexpected challenges and variables can swing the course of an entire day of sales. However, any work should bring a measure of satisfaction to those putting themselves to the task, and you recognize that deep appreciation for the job in the small businesses which focus more on the quality of the experience than the number of customers who make a purchase. This is not to say that a good business should slow its work to a lethargic pace, but that each customer, each person, should be made to feel as if the interaction truly is entirely about their peace of mind, not the money they have available.

Even working my former job, I found times of excitement, when the rhythm of an interaction felt like standing under the open sky during a thunderstorm. Adrenaline ran through my body, and I knew that, not only was I doing my job well by management’s standards and my own, but, most importantly, the man or woman I spoke with felt better for having worked with me. Sales like that, days like that, are what made the retail job bearable for the time I stayed.

Choosing to go into business for oneself is a risky proposition. I have considered on several occasions opening a bar-and-bookshop (called ‘Books & Booze’) to cater to the inebriated philosophe that lives inside us all. (Unrelated Sidenote: A pet peeve of mine is using a word correctly, spelled properly, and the spellcheck highlights it as an error. Ref: Philosophe) I think it is a great idea, though unlikely to ever become reality. I am sure, however, that it would be a place open to all, with the express purpose of creating an appealing atmosphere for my clientele.

When I walk through my local mall, or peruse the small shops that have struck out to earn the respect and attendance of a community, I feel pride, followed by a sadness that coils inside my chest. I fear for these bastions, worry that the corporate titans will likely choke the independents of their success until the shops are forced to go elsewhere, or close entirely. Seeing a dream broken in such a way, only to be called “progress,” that is an American Tragedy.