Long time no blog but you can't just leave these digits in cyberspace without some kind of continuation or closure, besides today I have something to say: money makes people stupid.

After 18 years at 318 Water we are being forced out of our location by greed. I understand business after all these years on the front lines of retail but I also know that if you make a decision with money as the only criteria you will make bad choices. Our new economy had boomed and the bubble has made everyone want to cash in. Multi nationals with very deep pockets are now competing for Mom and Pop locations in the new trendy parts of town.

We will reinvent somewhere, our fierce entrepreneurial spirit will not be squashed but neither will be our humanity, our sense of fairness and our continual support of our community and charitable organizations. We have been a fixture here for a long time and have a lifestyle I am not ready to give up; however I must admit to being discouraged. We now have subdivisions in which there are no clotheslines allowed. Why, because money makes people stupid. We now have more crime. Why, because money makes people stupid. This is just another small loss in the war against a homogenized, multinational, faceless corporate world that cares only about the bottom line and not about the world we live in.

We will find a new location and undaunted will provide the same friendly service and care we always have. Remember to shop locally. Cheers.

technology

As I sit behind the counter of our purposely quaint little shop I marvel that customers to ask if we accept interac or credit cards. Of course, I say, pointing out the wireless terminal that could take money from the middle of a farmers field. I could give it to a homeless person and then when someone says they have no change to spare they could whip the pin pad and take cards. How could I survive without electronically transferring some numbers from your account into mine, the paperless transfer of the idea of money. It's a little scary but absolutely necessary in the modern world. The Banks are always trying some new technology, pins, chips etc just waiting until the shameless generation that has no idea of privacy, the Facebook generations children, who won't mind having an identity chip inserted at birth so that we can scan for identification and payment. I won't even have a vehicle with built in GPS. I don't care if you can't find my car when it's stolen, I don't want you to be able to find me. I wish I lived in a world where I did not have to accept electronic money. Cash still makes my knees weak. Beautiful, negotiable, non traceable, legal tender. Oh well, it's just the cost of business. I pay my tithe to the bank and try to summon the gods to bring in that one customer who will make me a true believer again. Do I accept cards? Just try to stop me.

An honest days work

I have taken to physical labour lately trying to build a new house. It was getting dark tonight as We finished up for the day and I sat with my friend Ray on the tailgate of the Ford. The beer had been cooling in the creek all day and as I looked out at what we had accomplished I was happy. Working on a definable project with a solid end result is satisfying and despite the physical challenges it is easy, much easier than the uncertainty of retail. At the store and in my real life I have the grinding mental concerns that chase away sleep and create anxiety. Out here building the house it is a black and white world: I get done what I get done and one day soon it will be finished. When is business ever finished? I am still agonizing deals that went south five years ago and obsessing over business decisions that are long past relevant. My bones and body ache but the cold beer an a job well done have eased my mind. I am so relaxed. If I can carry this attitude to the store I will make killer sales. Damn the world is creeping back in. Time for another beer.

The Hard Sell

Often when asking a customer if they have any questions they will reply with a terse no, they are just browsing. That's not what I meant I say, I mean any questions like why is the sky blue or do you think a nut like Mitt should ever be President: people refuse discourse with others so easily. Sure they are expecting the hard sell but their response always annoys me a little. Why are they upset that I will answer any questions. I am simply breaking the ice. I am willing to talk and often wonderful conversations result, the kind of conversations that make you feel connected with another person. Why are they shopping at all if they are so grumpy. I do enjoy the people who do not respond at all and I realize they have on the ear buds, listening to the ipod. I begin to insult them at increasing volume until I break through, much to the amusement of the other customers in the store. I understand the need to be alone or the need to rock out to my favorite music but isn't it completely rude to enter a situation with a social context and not be prepared to interact at all. I am a gregarious person and I understand we are not all the same but if someone smiles and says hello the human response is to reply in kind. I will continue to smile and say hello as long as I am rewarded with good conversation at least once in a while.

Being self employed and flying by the seat of my pants makes blogging a difficult proposition. Not to put too fine a point on it I like to be paid but unfortunately, like any English major, I think I have something to say. Sitting in the store these winter afternoons I find myself cursing when the door opens as I become involved in my busy work or book keeping and find the customers a nuisance. My mind wanders and I don't like my train of though to be derailed by some twacking bayman with yet another stupid question. I love everyone who shops in my store but find my attitude needs adjusting this time of year. I need the energy I get from a full store and a bustling street. I need the confidence that a few days of great sales brings to this tenuous life. I know there are others like me out there, fiercely self employed retailers who by mid April doubt every decision they have ever make and honestly believe they are going to starve to death: it's the price of gas, an airline strike, a ferry strike, a civil service strike, fox news, something that will scare people into staying home. But they come every year. I can't wait to believe again. I have decided I need this blog as therapy, even if I am just a voice in the cyber wilderness.

Rebublic of Doyle

The success of the local TV production Republic of Doyle has effected the tourism trade in our lost corner of the world. Jake Doyle solves a murder or two a week and more crime every fifteen minutes than has even be heard of here in the last fifty years. It reminds me of other TV shows in which death and destruction follow the main characters so a story can be squeezed out of thin plots every week. Why would anyone hang out with these people. If Jessica Fletcher ( Murder She Wrote) stayed at an old country inn there is no doubt a body would be found face down in the garden with a protruding shovel: better an implausible story than none at all I suppose and you can't argue with success. I fully the support the money this production spends in town and brings to town. The more Jake Doyle runs around town without a shirt on the more people I see in my store. It helps that the local talent eats and drinks in the fine establishment across the street. I'm surprised they still let me in to have a pint. Not long ago a wonderful couple from Oregon said they came to town because they had hooked in to "Doyle" on Netflix. I reminded them that they lived just north of California and could perhaps star gaze a little closer to home. They said that was all the same but "Doyle" happened in this exotic place. I love it. We all want something fresh even if it means leaving paradise. The production sure makes us look good. And they seem to have the power to make the sun come out, but look carefully, when Jake has his shirt off it's plain to see, if you look closely, that he is freezing to death. But best of all I see my storefront many times a week on the tube as Jake races up and down Water Street. And every now and then you can catch a glimpse of my old Ford Pickup parked downtown. Why this makes me happy I can't explain. And why we are so driven by pop culture I will never understand but as long as the money rolls in I don't ask too many questions. Things just seem to be going our way.

Long lost Birdman

Blogging is like a diet, it never lasts unless you really change your lifestyle, or your born tendency to get exited about something for fifteen minutes. I'm still in retail but much has changed since 2009 and it's all about oil. I've never lived in a boom town before. It is disconcerting. Even as my pockets fill with cash I have an uneasy feeling. Change is the bastard we all avoid and money just means more bad habits. It is; however, now possible to get a decent cup of coffee and produce that does not look like it was retrieved out of a dumpster. It is also fun to sell the kind of items that I could not sell before: high end toys for men. I created a section in my store that is a public service for ladies. For so many years they have come in the store and said they can not think about what to get for their husbands. This blows me away. It is a no brainer: a remote control helicopter and a bottle of single malt. He will weep. He does not like the sweaters he gets. He is a simple stupid creature who wants nothing more than something to play with. It is good to be a man. I'm not known for my brilliant business sense, my partner does all the buying, but in this one instance I am a genius. And I am creating happiness, the mandate of all of us in retail, finding the gift that really makes an impact, that really shows you know and care. It has been a ton of fun and I get to fly the helicopters all over the store. So far I have knocked over a jewellery display that took a full afternoon to sort out and flown head on into the grandson's face but that turned out great. I can tell people no one will get really hurt, they will just cry for a little while. So we're doing better than surviving here. Cheers to all of you in the retail trenches and I'll try to post a little more often

The Other Side of the Coin

Of course on the same day I killed three tourists and dumped them in the harbour for taking pictures of the artwork.

busy busy busy

It's high season here and I have about as much time as a mosquito at a flyswatter convention. This is not a complaint as I know in February I will regret every dollar I did not make if I slow down for even a minute. I just took my boots off and put my feet up for the first time in weeks and am pouring a large gin to toast the gods of retail. This has been our busiest year yet despite early recession worries. I don't get it as our neighbours are reporting slower sales and many parts of the province are in a desperate state. A customer told me it was because we are a very human store. Yesterday a little girl came up to the cash with a few small items she was buying for her friends back home. One item was a bit more than the others as it was for her best friend and it was perfect. She was short about ten bucks and crestfallen. As she went to put the item for her best friend back I stopped her and gave it to her. She lit up. Her Mom was in shock and began to protest but I told her that her daughter was such a thoughtful little girl and so well behaved it would be an honor to provide the perfect gift for her best friend. I did it spontaneously and I often do small things like this especially for kids. The family came back later and dropped a couple of hundred bucks in the store and I could hear them them saying good things as they walked out the door. I didn't give away the item thinking it would make me money but it did. You get what you give, like people and care about them and it all comes back to you. That's whey we are up.

A Rant if You Please

I paid our store power bill at the bank as usual in April. The May bill did not reflect the payment so I queried the Power Company and they said they had received no payment in April. I got out my records, found the receipt of payment and faxed it to them. Whatever they said, we did not get the money go to your bank and find out what happened. OK, I thought but upon reflection I thought they could liaise with the bank, they had all the required paper work etc so I asked them to handle it as I was the customer and I had paid the bill. Meanwhile we are getting collection notices even though our bill is completely up to date except for the missing April payment. We got a phone call from the power company that said the bank had sent them a letter saying we did indeed pay the bill but an error occurred and they would solve the problem in due time. We got another collection letter from the power company. We got a hand delivered cut off notice from the power company. Of course I called and the gist of the conversation was this: We, the power company, don't give a crap why we didn't get the money or whose fault it is, send the money by tomorrow or we will cut off your power. I produced all the receipts and correspondence from the bank and they said: We, the power company, don't give a crap why we didn't get the money, send the money by tomorrow or we will cut off your power. I explained the situation again and again as I went up the food chain at the power company until I reached the prime customer service person who said: We, the power company, don't give a crap why we didn't get the money, send the money by tomorrow or we will cut off your power. Did I mention that our bill is completely up to date except for this missing payment. I called the bank who told me the money was wrongly sent to Revenue Canada and they were doing their best to get it back. Good luck with that I thought. Once again I called the power company etc etc. The bank, realizing my power was in jeopardy actually paid the bill for me and said they would recover the money from Revenue Canada at a later date. Thank you Royal Bank, actual service. Newfoundland Power is run by people who have no idea what customer service is about and frankly I think they are not very bright (no pun intended) This is what happens when there is a monopoly. If I could choose another power option they might be forced to treat me with a little respect.

Wandering staff

If you have a working knowledge of our store or have ever worked for me it's best to stay away during business hours. Many years ago we hired a high school student on a work term. She was young and fresh and periodically over the years she helped us out, often, as she recently pointed out, by being abandoned in the store the moment she walked in. I'd see Elizabeth coming and dart out for coffee or some small errand. I hadn't realized I did this until the other day when she came in after a long absence. I hadn't seen her for a year or so and the moment she came in I stuck her behind the counter with not much more than a hello and went to the drugstore for packing tape. When I came back and saw her there I realized she is far from being the girl that worked for us way back in high school. I basically conscripted a grown woman and she says she doesn't mind; she likes feeling at home in the store. That's success. I am very proud of that but more than anything I like to score a few minutes of free labour now and then. It helps make up for all the idiots I've suffered over the years.

Talking to Children

I always address kids when they come in the store as separate individuals from their parents. It freaks them out. Kids are not used to adults talking to them. Often they hug Mom or Dad's leg hard and shyly hide. After a short time, when they observe and decide I am not actually dangerous they will come out and start talking. Sometimes we have a great conversation, much to the shock of the parents as kids can be very candid and often say delightful and embarrassing things about their lives and their families. When I was a kid I often felt marginalized and not taken seriously and all of my life I've tried to give kids a chance to share their views and like Art Linkletter used to say, kids say the darnedest things. A little girl opened up the other day to tell my Mommy liked Jack better than Daddy and they had to live in a new house. She said it was fun because everyone was buying her things and they never got mad but Daddy doesn't like Jack anymore. Dad was right there, turning red but I knew this was a revelation for him; his five-year-old daughter was way more self aware than he thought. He learned a lot that moment that I hope stuck with him: kids hear everything and understand a lot more. It happens quite often that the parent is surprise by what their kids say. Maybe they should talk to them more too.

Don't touch

A man and his son came in the store and the father was doing a very good job of stopping his six-year-old son from touching anything. I appreciate it very much when people take responsibility for their children but after a while this guy was getting on my nerves. He hovered over the little guy like a force field, moving things, pushing hands away, blocking with his body to the point the little guy can get no enjoyment at all out of all the colorful things. Finally dad makes a quick turn and his fanny pack knocks a wooden sculpture off the shelf. I walked over and said to the dad, in the same tone as he had been using, "look with your eyes not with your butt." The little guy almost peed himself with laughter. He was a smart cookie. I think I made a friend for life. Dad wasn't as impressed but he took it well enough. I wish I was a fly on the wall at that dinner table that night.

One phone line blues

Imagine a situation in which you are talking to your Mom or your brother or spouse and a person anxious to give you money is waving a visa card: it's the one phone line blues. We're way to cheap to spring for another line and until we do we must rudely cut off any conversation when a sale is pending. The phone line is required to complete the transaction. As any good retailer knows you get the money when the gettin's good; never give them time to change their minds. Most of our friends and family know and accept this as I have more than once hung up on them if the sale was big enough to demand all of my attention. I have to admit to some satisfaction in doing this. In the name of service (not to mention profit) I am allowed to be rude, if only sparingly, to almost everyone I know, with impunity. Sweet. Maybe it's why I can be jovial most of the time. The customers are often surprised at the speed we will snag their visa card while hanging up the phone before the "gotta go" gets all the way out. People appreciate being more important than the phone but actually it's their money... Oh well..gotta go..

Sum Sum Summertime

Although the rain is pelting down today summertime is here. I can tell by all the strange faces in the store and by the size of my wallet. Apologies to my peers who are out there suffering a recession but here we have the good fortune to be sitting on millions of barrels of oil and are the "it" location these days as a unique and not too expensive destination in North America. Living in one of the poorest places north of the 49th that has suddenly become a wealthy one makes for an interesting transition. We have fresh produce in our supermarkets; the only things that will grow on our boggy soil are turnips, cabbage and carrots. Of course when you get to the cash with your eggplant, avocado and leeks no one has any idea what they are. By far the best benefit is good coffee. There was a day when in the center of your table at the restaurant was three jars: one with instant coffee, one with sweetener and another with coffee whitener and the server would simply pour you a cup of hot water. Now I can spend 5 bucks on a coffee in pretentious surroundings and 4 bucks on a muffin just like everybody else. Luckily we have maintained our authenticity (nothing has changed around the bay) and travellers can get a good look at places that are still stuck in time, full of friendly hard working people who unfortunately still drink instant coffee. Every year we are off the Kraft Dinner and homemade wine earlier so as my summer heats up I salute you all and wish for a great season.

Where Did That Come From

You may have asked yourself what the previous cartoon was doing in a retail blog.

I bumped into an acquaintance the other day and I wondered why he wasn't at work. Sick day he replied. He wasn't sick. He was on the golf course. Apparently he is allowed 23 sick days a year and if he doesn't use them he loses them. I always thought a sick day meant you were sick but according to his shop steward they are just days off, he gets them whether he was sick or not. Well there goes the gross national product. I believe all people deserve a fair wage, good benefits and safe working conditions. As a matter of fact I pay people more than the minimum required but as a fiercely self employed entrepreneur it makes me angry when a hard fought union demand for fair treatment of sick people becomes another excuse for laziness. The founders of the workers rights movement would fire every one of these idiots who think they are owed something for nothing. I don't think Woodie Guthrie would have written a song for them.

I think every generation makes the same observation about the generation that follows but this time we are right.

Unionizing the Worlds Oldest Profession

The toy story begins

A lady stood before me today with an item for refund. It was a toy, the fabulous diabolo, which has been feeding us well this spring. I've never been on the front lines of a fad but hope to be there all the time. Money was flying from all directions but the reverse side of sales is refunds and when a lot of any item sells you can count on a percentage of people who will want to bring the item back. The toy the lady wanted to return was about 6 weeks old and obviously played with constantly; a bolt was loose and it was coming apart. I tightened the bolt but the lady still wanted her money back because the diabolo, a yo yo like toy, might come apart and someone could get hurt. It's rubber with an aluminium axle. In order for someone to get hurt by it you would have to stuff it into a cannon with a bunch of shot. She assured me her son was not the type of boy who would maliciously loosen a bolt. All of the kids take the diabolo apart and exchange parts but not this boy; he was a good boy who might get hurt. I looked into her doe like eyes and felt an immediate pain for the poor sad boy who had to suffer this overzealous, overprotective and annoying woman. "Ma'am," I said, " he is a boy and there will be blood. Stop being paranoid, if your son can not handle the dangers of a federally approved rubber toy his chances in the big world are zero." There was a moment of silence. "Perhaps you are right."she said. I had to give her the money back. That kind of self awareness has to be rewarded. I still feel sorry for the kid but at least there is hope.

Electric Money

In the modern world it does not matter how much money you have if the power is out; you can't get at it so your as poor as the next guy. Most transactions now require electricity to move some numbers from one place to another, consequently when the power goes out, especially on a busy day, pandemonium ensues. I need every dollar I can swipe into my POP machine and the thought of losing even one makes me as antsy as Pinocchio at a toothpick carving contest. The solution, of course, is a gas powered generator in the basement. The partners have resisted but they were not there the afternoon I had them six deep impatiently waving visa cards and the power suddenly went out. I ended up just writing down the customers card numbers and hand entering them later which worked out great. Some people were a bit leery, as if writing the number down was suspicious but printing on a machine was on the up and up. What can you say, people are afraid to use their cards online but have no problem handing to a criminal adolescent at a pizza joint. I could have lost a few bucks but all the cards came back authorized; still, I'd love that generator, nothing like a few exhaust fumes to make people part with their money and in the skinny times of winter I could be bolder with the power company when they call to collect. I guess I'm just a boy scout, always prepared.

Couterfeiting Money

Those of us in the art print business don't like to mention it out loud but selling prints is like counterfeiting money; I sell pieces of paper that have an arbitrary, perceived value but really are only worth the paper they are printed on. When I travel I often buy local art in the form of prints and have even purchased limited editions which have an even higher perceived value because, theoretically, there are a limited number. I noticed in our local market that if a print edition ran out we would see a number of "artists proofs" as if the artist slaved over the digital printer making manual color corrections. Then there will be some "remarques" on which the artist has made some kind of mark to distinguish this print from the regular run. While at the printer the other day I ran into a colleague who after running out of all the options was just printing more anyway. What the hell? I started with limited editions because of the cache but I have found that most people buy a picture because they like it and don't care about the pretension of limited editions. Exactly; if you like a picture (oh please) buy it. Of course the high end guys really buy into this as their prints can go as high as a couple of grand. They are geniuses of course, guys like David Blackwood (google him and you will find the spirit of this place) who still pull their own prints instead of making a glorified photocopy; still, I sell my happy little glorified photocopies for $14.95 and make a modest living doing what I like. I am a counterfeiter. It is completely legal and by the way, I do accept counterfeit money in the store. I spend it at Walmart on the way home.