Did you make that?

For a time we did what I call guerrilla retail: manning an outdoor booth at some kind of festival or event. The atmosphere is festive and sleazy and the crowds generally are happy-go-lucky with a few drunken fools thrown in for flavour. At a few of the more low rent events we have even slept in the street to guard our wares ( they never have outdoor classical music festivals do they and you probably wouldn't sell too many bongs) On one of these glorious weekends we hooked up with some old friends and sat in lawn chairs all night long solving the problems of the world and enjoying the stars. Consequently I was a little tired the following day, the big sales day, and a little less likely to nod and smile when confronted with an obvious moron. This fellow was very interested in a mask we were selling. Back in the day we did the good old Asian import thing, when these things still seemed exotic and not tawdry and did not remind everyone of child labour. The mask clearly, as required by law, said made Indonesia on the back. The fellow looked at it, looked me in the eye and asked. "did you make that?" Of course, I told him. I jumped on a plane, hewed down a tree, carved out the mask. shipped it back here just so I could sell it to you. He bought it. That was the true start of my sales career. I've never looked back. Now I create and sell my own art and proudly say I made it but can't shake the niggling feeling that I am a fraud, that I'm pulling the wool over every body's eyes. Of course some people, like the aforementioned gentleman, come with their eyes prewooled and would buy poop wrapped in cellophane if you told them the right story. God bless them all. Tonight we eat.

The Great Boomerang Disaster

We found a supplier that sold wooden boomerangs, nothing fancy, just a working boomerang and I tried one out in a field and sure enough after a short time I could throw it and it would come right back to me. Totally impressed I bought a case for the big local trade show thinking kids and parents alike would have fun with it and they sold like crack (no one buys hotcakes anymore). Great, I did good I thought as I watched the happy customers rush away anxious to try their new boomerangs. It wasn't too long before the first one came back. A sad child with chocolate ice cream stains all over his face placed a boomerang, now in two pieces, on the display in front of me. What could I do? I only paid a few bucks for them; I gave the kid a new one. A few minutes later another one came back in two pieces. Wait a second here, I played with one all day and it didn't break. What was going on. I saw two more sets of parents with sad children and broken boomerangs approaching. I closed the booth and went outside. In the paved parking lot of the trade ex were what appeared to be hundreds of kids flinging boomerangs high in the air and watching as the plummeted toward the hard pavement. Not satisfied if they didn't break they'd try it again, the odd time bouncing off a car or two. There was not a parent in sight. I scuttled back into the show to find a line up at my booth. Disgruntled parents not satisfied that the five bucks they spent hadn't translated into enough babysitting time were openly aggressive about my poor quality products. I had mentioned to EVERYONE that this toy should be used well away from obstructions out in a playing field perhaps; there was a school soccer field right next door for example. My pleas for rationality fell on deaf ears as they all held out their hands for their money back. Instead of suggesting it was their low quality parenting and not my low quality product I took a kid off guard and excitedly asked him how many tall throws it had taken to break it. "Three," he said without thinking. A few parents got it and looked sheepish but there is no stopping a true boor so I refunded a bunch of money and kept the rest of the boomerangs for myself. I have yet not managed to break one except the one I used to try and kill the SUV that belonged to the fattest boob of all as he left the parking lot. If he'd been a kangaroo I would've been eating fresh meat that night. Live and learn.

What am I doing

Self doubt is a very normal human response even when all is well. It takes little to put us all into thumb sucking stupors of dread and doubt. In retail, especially a specialized market that depends on people getting off their couches, on an airplane and out on to the street near my store, one bad day can have me wondering why I quit my union job to throw my future to the whims of the buying public. There are days when I truly believe I will never make another dollar as I watch a parade of customers walk right by my door with the competitors bags swinging in the breeze. It is a fragile business that requires constant attention. I must know what I am doing, 13 years in this location and there is always food on the table ( much better food in the high season ) but I still never believe the tourists will come back. In April we begin to see some life on the street but it only takes one bad day, like today, before I am nose first in the classifieds looking for the gravy train of civil service employment. But just in the nick of time some hapless goof from Ohio, struck on this beautiful place, lays down his visa on a pricey original painting and I am a god again. Just in case, please don't hire me if I do get foolish enough to think I could survive in a cubicle. I'll take fragile autonomy for wage slavery any day.

Know your Town

As tourism is a great deal of my business it is important that I know a few things about my town. I am always asked which restaurants are best etc so I go out and spend locally from time to time so my recommendations will be fresh and authentic. Last night was such a night and I learned two things: The Yellow Belly Brewery is a great restaurant and many of our lesbians look shockingly like our Premier, Danny Williams. I know it is probably just a similar haircut and glasses but also there is the implied tenacity in their stance: our Danny is a Pitt Bull too.

The Yellow Belly made up for being dragged to see KD Lang at, as she called it: a hockey rink - albeit a really nice one. I amused myself people watching and that's when I saw all the Dannys out there. KD herself has the haircut but she is so comfortable with herself she has no anger. I like her, just not her music. My only complaint is people kept clapping and waking me up. Still, a night out is a night out and I did get a couple of pints of the house brew and a steak and cheese wood fired pizza that was the perfect blend of pretension, comfort food, culinary ingenuity, presentation and price. Everyone at the table was satisfied.

A night out is also a night of shameless self promotion as I plugged the store with about 5 thousand people. It is great to know your town but it's really great if they know you. Next week Monster trucks with the grandson, no point schmoozing those people, there are all unemployed. Perhaps it all can be redeemed buy a bucket of beer and a few hot dogs.

The sun is shining

The sun (that big yellow thing in the sky if I remember correctly) is shining today and already the store is bristling with happy spending customers. This happens every spring and I think it's the vitamin D boost we get when the first spring sun settles on our pasty white winter skin. I feel happier today but that might be just the beautiful sound of the cash drawer opening and closing. Perhaps real economic stimulus would occur if everyone was prescribed some vitamin D from time to time. At the very least the pharmacist would make out like a bandit and we might see some trickle down from him. It is very optimistic of me to assume it is spring. We always get a snow storm on May 24th weekend - for those non-Canadians this is the weekend we get drunk in the woods and pass out in the fire to celebrate Queen Victoria's birthday. A snow storm is tradition and with typically Canadian weather lunacy we would be disappointed not to have one. Today the sun is shining on the icebergs in the bay and everyone has a grin on their face. Feeling good on a sunny day, it's all you need...and a few quality products from Keystone, the finest gift store in the northern hemisphere (I'm being objective, I've never been to the southern hemisphere) Now if it would only get warm too.

How's Your Recession

I never worry too much about recession as I believe most of us can only go about nine months tightening our belts before we lose control and buy a motion activated gnome that sings It's a Wonderful World every time you pass it in the garden or any other happiness bobble that allows us to forget about the abyss for a few seconds. I have no real problem with consumption, as it essentially is my living, but I worry when people buy because of outside influences or to please or impress the crowd instead of themselves; most of these people are not self aware enough to have any real personal tastes. They go see a Disney movie and then by a dalmatian or penguin or whatever the creature of the month. They drive a Hummer that never sees a gravel road and actually worry that they do not have as much as their neighbours. Personally, I can hold my head high driving a Pinto, wearing second hand clothes and collecting interesting pieces of wood. Some things matter: good food and wine, a warm hearth, the satisfaction of creating something that did not exist before, family and friends. If the economy depended on my spending habits the only two business that would exist would sell building supplies and liquor.

Whenever a recession hits I always wish I had a liquor license as hard times drive up sales but I would never want to deal with the hassles of selling booze. It is our worst social problem after all. That's why we decided to put a grow op in the basement of the store. The clientele are pretty docile and we're unloading singing gnomes at an alarming rate. It makes them laugh, well so does anything. There's a recession cure for you, a nice little drug habit. Over-all it's probably better all around than filling up the world with dalmatians and Hummers.

Our Return Policy

Behind the cash at Keystone there is a small sign. When asked about our return policy I point at it. It says "Hire a Lawyer." We sell nice little gifts, mostly handmade, and spent our meagre earnings on food and fuel on the way home. I have never returned a gift in my life. When I receive a gift I do not like (it is neither food nor alcohol) the item goes straight on to eBay. Who returns a gift? Stop giving the crackheads in your circle a present they can try and redeem for cash. I will cheerfully give you a credit note knowing a large portion of them will end up going through the washing machine. Credit notes are like gift cards and lay-a-ways; we can only hope the recipient is transferred to Uzbekistan never to return. I have mellowed as I used to cheer for traffic fatalities and natural disasters on gift cards of $100 and more. I'm sure there is some ridiculously liberal consumer law that allows a person to bring back an item for refund and in the case of equipment and useful things it makes a lot of sense but as everything we sell was not needed in the first place how can not needing it now be a cause to get your money back. Sometimes I am weak. We do have some faithful regulars that feed us between the tourists and consumption holidays and I have been known to give back small sums of cash. It really hurts but hey, service is everything.