Retail therapy was my way of splurging and back in the day, I did. I once read a story about how Jackie Kennedy, when she found something she liked, would buy five of them in different colors. Since I worked across the street from Bloomingdale’s at the time, I walked in and bought five hats (remember hats?) and kept them in my office. I wore a different one going home every week or so and my husband either never noticed or wisely said nothing.
Now, though, retail therapy means after even the most mundane shopping trip I need to lie down in a dark room and talk to a professional, because it’s a completely different experience.
True Crime in the Snack Aisle
Within the past month, while waiting to pay near the register at a national convenience/drug store in my neighborhood, a disheveled, crazy guy ran in, pushed three store displays over, dodged the burly store helper, and ran out with bags of cookies. My first instinct was to run and hide in the shampoo aisle (because this guy looked like haircare was the least of his concerns) because who knows if he would try that on a customer next.
Time for a change
I’ve also encountered several young people who literally don’t know how to make change. They actually groan when I hand them cash instead of a card. They pull out their phones and use the calculator or ask a fellow employee for help.
I feel kind of bad for them, because they missed out on a childhood rite of passage – shopping by themselves. That was such a thrill for me. I could barely reach the wooden candy stand that John on Third Street used for the nickel and dime sweets, over the storage bin for bread and rolls…but I felt so grown up when I handed him a dime for a silver foil wrapped Crunch bar or Devil Dog, and counted my five pennies in change before I left the store. It’s not the same handing a credit card or waving a phone over a terminal.
Where?
Yesterday I encountered a young lady who kept telling me that I should take the item without a price tag over to the scanner to get a price check, even though the damn thing was held in place with an unbreakable and immovable plastic lock.
Add to this mix the inevitable line cutters, toothpaste locked behind plastic doors, panhandlers waiting outside, out of stock items on the regular and items on store shelves that clearly have been opened by someone hoping to sample the goods for free….and well, who wouldn’t need therapy after a shopping trip?
And don’t get me started about the wide variety between the picture of the item on the website and what actually appears when it’s delivered.
YOUR TURN
But that’s me. How have shopping trips changed for you – and what made you want to talk to a therapist?
Virge Randall is Senior Planet’s Managing Editor. She is also a freelance culture reporter who seeks out hidden gems and unsung (or undersung) treasures for Straus Newspapers; she writes frequently on Old School New York City and performs at open mic readings throughout New York City. Send Open Thread suggestions to [email protected].