Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Way off Target

"I don't want to sound complaining, but you know there's always rain in my heart..."   The Beatles, Please Please Me

I really don't mean to sound complaining, but there is something I want to share about the way certain people run their stores.  I don't want to mention any names, but I'm sure I'll hit the Target if I mention the store's name to you.  Everyone who works there has to wear a red shirt, which does not bother me. But it seems like everyone who works there also has to have a 500-watt walkie talkie to exchange information with people one aisle away.  At top volume.

Getting specific, we went to Target the other afternoon, the new one down in Canton.  It's good for us to walk and strutting around a store that size is a nice walk if you do a few laps.  Usually, it's nice and peaceful in a Target, but a few minutes in this store showed me that the establishment is suffering from the heartache of HMS.

You've all seen HMS in action, and, sad to say, many of you have had to deal with it in your own profession.  HMS is my code for Hyper Manager Syndrome and it manifests itself in the big head cheese stomping around barking out orders to his staff like Capt Bligh.  And in the new modern age, he has his walkie talkie (and they have theirs) so he can get things straightened out in Electronics while he's rearranging a display in Home Decor.

And it's not just the almost-constant caterwauling from Barney Fife On The Floor, rebroadcast over a couple of dozen radios.  Other people join in ("ALL DEPARTMENTS  prepare for inventory check" "Congratulations to our Guest Service Team for achieving top scores in the region") and soon the air is full of words, when all you wanted was some peace and quiet, the perfect atmosphere for looking for no-show socks and taco shells. And then everyone from the cashiers to the guy working the machine that brings back 150 carts at a time joins the Roman chorus and chimes in.

As it happened, I had just decided to go hang around Harris Teeter instead.  (They surely have taco shells, and quite possibly, socks.) As I turned to leave, the Loud Logorrheic chirped up with a sprightly, "Are you finding everything ok today, sir?" and I said, "What I hoped to find was a tranquil time to shop, but your radios are loud and annoying," and he said, "Yeah!  Welcome to MY world!"

Or goodbye to it.  Harris Teeter took me in kindly.

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