A good capitalist

Almost regardless of where you live these days you can depend upon seeing the same brand of chain stores and restaurants springing up around you. I would guess most modern chains have a radius of 20 miles or less before they feel the need to pop up another location. It gives us as a culture a boggling array of strip mall-age, but increasingly I'm realizing it gives me a much more limited sense of choice, and an even narrower sense of personality and regionality. Having just traveled the roughly 1200 miles between Salt Lake City and Dallas, Texas it is quite bizarre to note how similar the retail offerings actually are. Newer suburbs of bigger cities are especially plagued by the chain mentality. What few local businesses may have once existed in these outposts are quickly replaced by the IHOP, the Sonic, the Olive Garden, the Walmart, the Barnes and Noble. Increasingly, even our powerhouse cities of mom and pop offerings like NYC are not immune; a friend just updated his Facebook status to say: "Walking past the new Union Square TGI Fridays. :("

I was mulling all this over because of a series of small business encounters I had today that completely made my day and felt like the antidote to corporate take over.

I am working on a little wedding flower project and I needed to source some burlap upholstery webbing for a bouquet. I consulted the oracle first (google) and saw that Walmart supposedly carried the stuff. I called the closest store and not only did the person who answered the phone have no idea what upholstery webbing was, she didn't know where to send my call within the vast store. So I, the customer, said "I don't know, maybe the sewing or home decor area?" She said "great!" and transfered me over where I proceeded to wait 5 minutes on hold and still no one ever answered the call. Frustrated, I hung up and called a little local upholstery shop I dealt with years ago. A woman picked up on the first ring and when I explained what I needed and politely asked if she'd sell the webbing to me or would be willing to point me in the direction of a supplier, she cheerfully explained that the burlap industry is in trouble and no one is able to import it right now from the Philippines where most suppliers get burlap these days. (Who knew?!) But she did give me the names of 2 local places they deal with and suggested I get on their waiting lists. She couldn't have been more knowledgeable or friendly and I hung up satisfied and happy even though I hadn't gotten any closer to getting the actual item I needed.

While I was out erranding today the check engine light on my car lit up and even though the car was driving fine, I figured I should take the light seriously and not blow the thing up like I have in the past. Ahem! We have a trusty Volvo mechanic, Herm, who has a small Volvo only independent shop and so I drove straight to him, fingers crossed. Not only did he stop what he was doing to come out and check the code on the engine to see what was wrong, he and I chatted pleasantly about life, family, and the hot heat of summer while he was doing it. It ended up to be nothing major, but it was sure nice helpful service and great peace of mind to have him take that time out of his day to help a girl out, no cash required. I highly doubt the Volvo dealership would have done the same in the less than 15 minutes it took Herm.

And finally....probably the highlight of my week and certainly my momentous for the day. Salt Lake has a lot of stores, gems really, under independent ownership and representing a very independent, quirky spirit. You have to suss them out a bit, but they are here, banners held high. One of my absolute favorite little shops is downtown on the newly hip stretch of Broadway and 200 East called Frosty Darling. The shop is a haven for unique handmade gifts and interesting art objects, but it is also the kind of place that is loose and fun enough to bring your kids and not worry that you will get the "you break it, you buy it" face when they check stuff out. Today my kids got sucked in to all the fun stuff they were surrounded by: pins, vintage candy confections, funny plushy dolls, vinyl wallets with lighting bolts, worn out in the best way metal dime store pony ride, and they were completely smitten with the idea of playing the dart toss balloon game behind the cash register. Gentry, the owner, filled up a bunch of fresh balloons and for a buck gave my kids 3 darts each to toss and attempt to pop a balloon. Neither did the deed, but both were rewarded with 4 tickets they could use to buy various old school treats like candy lipsticks, Neccos, and bubblegum cigars. It was the highlight of all our day to throw those darts and giggle and to be rewarded with an experience in the shop rather than just stuff. Cleo has already asked me twice to go back there "just for fun". Now that's my kind of retail!

I suppose the message of these anecdotes is simply that I don't want to stop having these kind of small business encounters and I definitely don't want to see our culture lose them entirely. We would be left with so little if the small shops died out completely and all that remained is the faceless glare of neon signs and parking lots, or worse the glare of the computer screen. It isn't the same to buy something from a behemoth who knows not what they sell. It feels good to support the little guy, who in turn usually supports the even littler guy, but in the end by supporting them you really are supporting a facet of culture that is endangered and needs some serious love. So go out and be the good little capitalist you were born to be, only try to spend your dough where it truly morphs into something you can hold in the palm of your hand, maybe a little something like a dart.