Dear Shops

We are in the height of a recession. You know this, and we know it.

The reason we’re not in your shop buying loads of stuff we don’t need is that we have finally accepted that it’s an “either or” situation with the mortgage and your lovely new handbag.

It’s no longer a matter of possibly being able to manage both.

It’s not the staff’s fault that we aren’t buying stuff. And it’s not your fault either. There’s nothing wrong with your shop. Honestly, we all wish we could allow ourselves to be tempted by your lovely displays.

There is absolutely no need to try to “improve the shopping experience.” I hate that shopping has become an “experience”. It used to just be a hobby. We’re Irish. It’ll be a sad day for the nation when we accept that we’re having an experience, instead of just “going to town”.

And the stupid questions. In the first place, please note that if I walk into, for instance a stationer’s, my personal favourite kind of shop, I’m really just in there looking for something to buy. Left to my own devices, I’ll definitely find a notebook that I’ll never use, and will pay over the odds for.

If you walk straight up to me and ask me what I need help with, however, you’ll make me all paranoid and feel as if you think I’m a shoplifter, and I’ll soon leave empty handed.

This nonsense of “Is there anything else I can help you with?” at the checkout is another thing.

It’s fine in the bank, if I’ve just checked my standing orders, or requested a new card or something.

Being in the bank is like being in the doctor’s. I often save up a few things, to make it worth my while.

If I develop a severe pain in my knee, I don’t go to the doctor’s and pay out fifty euro for his opinion. I usually soldier on until I need to get my ears checked too, and maybe collect a repeat prescription, and if I have any other little anxieties I ask him about them as well. Sometimes when our business is concluded I even sit there in silence for a minute or two trying to remember if I’ve had any other aches and pains.

I don’t think he’s that fond of me, but hey ho, it’s worth my while.

Being in the stationer’s, however, is completely different. There is absolutely nothing else you can help me with. It’s not like I’ve wandered in looking for a notebook and would like your advice on what I should write in it.

If I arrive at the counter with six notebooks, a handful of pens and maybe a photo frame, not as unusual as you might think, please don’t ask me if I want a bag.

If I can barely carry everything to the counter, I hardly want to carry it down the street, now, do I?
Just give me a bag. If I don’t want one I’ll say so.

No I don’t have a loyalty card, if I had I’d have handed it to you. And if I don’t have one by now, I don’t want one. So please don’t ask me.

Worst of all is that department store that shall remain nameless that asks every time you go to the counter whether you want a store card. As in a credit card. And when you say no they offer you 10% discount on today’s purchases if you’ll just sign up. I have enough trouble trying to keep up with my bills and hide them from His Nibs without getting another one just to get 10% off a top today.

We know it’s you, the directors, you are passing the diktats forcing your floor staff to ask us all these daft questions. They don’t care, mostly, if we enjoyed our shopping experience or not. They’re usually perfectly nice people, left to their own devices.

Stop making them do annoying things, it's never going to make us buy more stuff.

Just let them at it, or we’ll all start demanding to speak to the manager all the time to share our “shopping experiences” with them.