I just read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, and despite hating The Tipping Point, I thought it was pretty good. There's one section about a wildly successful car salesman whose secret is little more than trying not to pre-judge customers:
"Prejudging is the kiss of death," he says. "You have to give everyone your best shot. A green salesperson looks at a customer and says, 'This person looks like he can't afford a car,' which is the worst thing you can do, because sometimes the most unlikely person is flush."
Indeed, I went to Brooks Brothers a couple of weeks ago ready to buy a jacket. I didn't care how much it cost - $700, $1,000, $3,000, whatever. I just wanted a jacket that I really liked. So I walked in and it was like I was invisible. I passed two associates who completely ignored me. Then an old white guy came in behind me and they practically volunteered to hold his dick at the urinal. I was wearing jeans, a suit jacket, and oxford shoes; I wasn't dressed poorly compared to anyone else. There were a couple of coats I liked, but I didn't see my size, and fuck if I'm going to beg someone to take my money. Good job, assholes. Now Nordstrom has my Christmas bonus.
Brooks Brothers is the worst, but the other consistently bad retailer is the watch store Torneau. I've been ready to buy shit there and I've left after nobody asked me if I needed help.
On the other hand, at Best Buy, they bug me too much. Maybe it's an Asian thing.
OKCupid Update:
17/50
2 comments:
You're 6000% right. When I go suit shopping, I am regularly met (after some dillydallying) by the least tenured, overeager kid that works there. If said kid isn't there that day, I can wander until I either say something, look super disgruntled, or just leave.
DG, it must be your youthful countenance. I envy you! Funny story - after I turned 30, for a while, every time a store clerk asked me for my ID when I was buying alcohol, I'd sort of proudly beam to myself. No, that's a lie. I beamed openly to the whole world.
Then I got cocky. I was buying something at the ABC store and the guy didn't ask me for anything. I said, "Don't you need my ID?" He said no. Then I asked him how old he thought I was.
"Oh, probably about 30," he responded.
I went home and cried into my beer.
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