Friday, November 19, 2004
Retail: Satan's Melody
There's something sinister about how the act of consuming taps a dark impulse in people. I've seen folks who seem rational and coherent melt into self-righteous lunatics, if their needs aren't being met.
I worked at a movie theatre one summer. That shit was CHEAP. Dollar admission, second-run movies, tears in the screens. And in my two-month tenure, I saw some chilling displays. Once, an elderly man tried to pick a fight with me because he had to wait too long in line. Another time, an innocent Soccer Mom started yelling at the ceiling because the popcorn machine was broken.
But then there's the people who use retail as a showcase for Crazy. In front of an audience of begrudging employees and customers who try not to make eye contact,
they perform their agit-prop one-person show. (Sometimes these people are called The Homeless). Tenpercent once told me about this woman who started overturning furniture and kicking aimlessly in the RobMay Customer Service line. I believe it was on Christmas eve, which I'm sure is maddening in a department store, but it sounded like long lines were the least of her problems.
Marah's store, a small boutiquey shop in Silverlake that sells a lot of Ben Sherman, seems to attract Crazies in droves. The other day, a middle-aged man asked her if she knew the musical Porgie and Bess. Before she could finish, "It sounds familiar", the guy belted out,
A redheaded woman make a choo choo jump its track,
A redheaded woman make it jump right back!
He might not have been crazy so much as a tourist (the Guidebook to LA tucked under his arm tipped her off). But there have been other cameos by curious people, like Trucker Hat, a lonely 30something (with a trucker hat) who tried to awkwardly kiss Marah, before being ushered out of the store. Craft Lady, a sometimes homeless woman who comes in to chat and pawn a variety of nicknacks (I think the latest was Jesus-themed Christmas ornaments). And lately, Keychain Guy. 40ish. He sits down and monologues mostly, and also bought her a nifty keychain while on his trip to Florida. I guess when all other outlets fail you, go shopping.
Or, to the library.
There's something sinister about how the act of consuming taps a dark impulse in people. I've seen folks who seem rational and coherent melt into self-righteous lunatics, if their needs aren't being met.
I worked at a movie theatre one summer. That shit was CHEAP. Dollar admission, second-run movies, tears in the screens. And in my two-month tenure, I saw some chilling displays. Once, an elderly man tried to pick a fight with me because he had to wait too long in line. Another time, an innocent Soccer Mom started yelling at the ceiling because the popcorn machine was broken.
But then there's the people who use retail as a showcase for Crazy. In front of an audience of begrudging employees and customers who try not to make eye contact,
they perform their agit-prop one-person show. (Sometimes these people are called The Homeless). Tenpercent once told me about this woman who started overturning furniture and kicking aimlessly in the RobMay Customer Service line. I believe it was on Christmas eve, which I'm sure is maddening in a department store, but it sounded like long lines were the least of her problems.
Marah's store, a small boutiquey shop in Silverlake that sells a lot of Ben Sherman, seems to attract Crazies in droves. The other day, a middle-aged man asked her if she knew the musical Porgie and Bess. Before she could finish, "It sounds familiar", the guy belted out,
A redheaded woman make a choo choo jump its track,
A redheaded woman make it jump right back!
He might not have been crazy so much as a tourist (the Guidebook to LA tucked under his arm tipped her off). But there have been other cameos by curious people, like Trucker Hat, a lonely 30something (with a trucker hat) who tried to awkwardly kiss Marah, before being ushered out of the store. Craft Lady, a sometimes homeless woman who comes in to chat and pawn a variety of nicknacks (I think the latest was Jesus-themed Christmas ornaments). And lately, Keychain Guy. 40ish. He sits down and monologues mostly, and also bought her a nifty keychain while on his trip to Florida. I guess when all other outlets fail you, go shopping.
Or, to the library.
