2004-09-12 - 1:17 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Separate Ways", Journey. Something about the music on Poindexter's computer hockey game is triggering this song in my head. Ugh.

My errand-running took me to two places yesterday, among others: Lord and Taylor, in the old Wanamaker building at 13th & Market, and Burlington Coat Factory. I had to return stuff at Lord and Taylor that I didn't love enough once I got it home over Labor Day, and I had to pick up two coats at BCF that Poindexter had given me permission to buy.

I have a strict rule about clothes now: if I'm not absolutely crazy about an item of clothing, I'm not allowed to buy it. Too often in the past I bought stuff just because it kinda fit or I kinda liked it, and then I either hardly ever wear it or don't feel happy when I do wear it. Granted, this was from back before stretch, when finding clothes that fit me was really difficult, and I needed business-casual clothes for work or needed a pair of comfortable jeans and everything was baggy, which I hate, but I had to buy something. This is no longer the case, thanks to spandex in everything. I also had clothes from when I was willing to put up with a certain amount of discomfort to look "good", which I am not anymore. Again, thank you spandex. Hence the new rule. I'm now delighted to put on everything I own.

As for getting permission from Poindexter, that's not what you think. I had to ask him for permission to buy a pink tweedy coat and a classic wool coat in brown (because I wear a lot of brown) because my inner miser is always screaming, "YOU DON'T NEED THAT!! YOU HAVE A BLACK COAT AT HOME! BROWN IS ALMOST BLACK! AND YOU'RE JUST GONNA GET THAT PINK COAT ALL DIRTY! AND IT'S TOO TRENDY! AND BOTH THOSE COATS ARE NOT GOING TO KEEP YOU WARM ENOUGH IN JANUARY AND FEBRUARY!"

Poindexter, on the other hand, says, "You work hard and you make enough money. We can afford it. Go buy it." He is the shit.

But I digress.

When I was leaving Lord & Taylor, I walked through the Grand Court. Because I always have to walk through the Grand Court. And I happened upon about eight men sitting in those collapsable camping chairs in the middle of the court, just behind the eagle (where you'd be if you took this picture). At first I thought they were getting creative about seating while waiting for their wives to finish shopping, but then I realized they must've been waiting to listen to the organ. Apparently it was a special concert celebrating Peter Conte's fifteen years playing the organ there.

The building itself is spectacularly beautiful, and it is the most amazing thing that John Wanamaker bought that incredible organ and put it there, because he loved music and wanted to share it with the world. It could be argued that he did it as a public service, but I like to think that he did it because it was HIS store, and HIS organ, and HE wanted it there. He did it partly because he could. Nobody does this anymore. Large buildings for running businesses are now built by corporations, and a corporation can't justify spending all that money on a goofy organ, can it? They can't justify all that opulence and gaudiness either. I'm amazed that Lord and Taylor even bought the building, much less is keeping up the organ, and in fact, they are slowly chipping away and making the light show smaller every year. :( So we end up with stuff like, what, Liberty Place? Wal-Mart? Ugliness. Nothing inspiring. John Wanamaker and his business were one and the same, and it showed.

It just seems that these days everybody is concerned with the bottom line at the expense of the things that make the world beautiful. There might still be beautiful things being built, but they're not department stores, and nobody's sharing them with the world like John Wanamaker did.

Well. Or maybe I just don't like buildings unless they are old.

After listening to the concert for a while and getting a bit misty as I always do when the organ plays at Wanamaker's, I made my way over to Burlington Coat Factory, where I was horrified to discover that both coats were missing. Last weekend there were at least six of the brown coat in various small sizes that would fit me, both regular and petite, so I couldn't imagine who could've bought them all in a week. I was standing there, probably looking upset, when a man asked me, "Can I help you find something?"

I sputtered a bit. "The Anne Klein -- brown --" and he said "Over here," and took me right to it. I thanked him profusely. Apparently he'd been organizing the coats, putting the specific designers together, putting the trendy coats together (the pink one turned out to be on a rack with other tweedy coats). I had wanted the petite size of the pink coat, but somebody did apparently make off with that one. I asked if he'd seen any others, just in case. "No, that's the only rack with those particular coats. But you're not that short," he said. "I'm five-two!" I replied, "Plus the sleeves were shorter on the petite."

While trying the coats on to make certain I loved them -- BCF only gives you store credit, no refunds if you change your mind -- I watched the guy work out of the corner of my eye. He was clearly an organizational freak, efficiently moving coats around and grouping them by size and color and style. And while he worked, he was obviously cataloguing them in his head, too, because he knew exactly where the coats were that I was looking for. I wondered at first why they were wasting this guy on organizing coats, but now that I think about it, it might be part of a more complicated job that he has. He had a bit of a proprietary air about him.

Compare this to when I go to any other store, ask for help finding something, only to have the salesperson wander to the aisle I was in and stand there looking aimlessly and not finding it either. I guess the fact is, good service costs money, and most people aren't willing to pay for good service anymore. They just want the cheapest goods at the expense of good service. That's what the demand is for.

But what I don't understand, though, is why people in these positions don't try to do their best. It's not that hard to spend some time organizing the coats and knowing where they are. Or if you work at the drugstore, being familiar with where everything is and helping customers find it. Why don't people have a drive to do their job the best they can? I understand being lazy -- I'm lazy too, and I procrastinate -- but when I have a responsibility to other people to get a job done, I feel a very strong urge to do it right and do it well. No matter how much I'm being paid. And I don't understand how someone can do a shitty job and not care.

My mother says that the smart people don't stay in entry-level menial jobs for very long, so only the dregs are left. I suppose that would explain it. But it's only served to make me more appreciative of people who perform services well, and now that I can afford to do so, I will seek out and pay more for better service.

Of course, all this went through my head long after I left the store. If I get a chance I'll have to drop in and see if the guy's still there so I can compliment him on his excellent service.

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