Dear John,
Or as your friends know you: “Target”,
It’s over. We’re through. I cannot do this anymore. It’s time we go our separate ways. We are breaking up.
Don’t tell me you are surprised. You had to have seen this coming. Over the 14 or so years we were together, you continued to get bigger and more influential. I relied on you.
You, Target, were my happy place. If I had a bad day at work, I knew I could visit and wander your halls and somehow, you would lead me to that certain something that made me feel better. I don’t know if it was your bright lights or the clear hallways or the bright red symbol, but you comforted me when I needed you.
Remember when I was in graduate school? I would visit you for a highlighter, and come out with $150 of stuff I *had* to have. You did that for me. You were there for me. You comforted me.
But then? Gradually, you started to change. It was just the small things at first. Your parking lot was full. Or the size I needed was not available. Or the items offered in my size were dated and unstylish. I ignored the fact that you stuffed “my” section in, between maternity and the fitting rooms, all the way in the back as if you were ashamed of how I looked. As if I were to be hidden away.
Then it was bigger things – you decided to contribute to political campaigns that went against everything I believed in. I *still* defended you. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, right? I didn’t like it, but you were still my happy place.
But this weekend? This weekend was the last straw. The camel’s back is broken. This weekend convinced me that I need to make a clean break with you.
I can accept that you want to remodel. I can! I encourage it, in fact. Brighter lights! YES! Shinier stuff! ABSOLUTELY!
And then I walked in.
Your shelves are now lined with higher priced items. Items that, in my opinion, don’t warrant the higher price tag given the fact that you are *Target*.
You have made “my” section even smaller – the 4 racks and wall display of unattractive options has now been reduced to 1 rack in amongst the Maternity section and Boys section. I can take the hint. I am not welcome there.
You have put the Pet section up front, in the Frozen Food section. You heard me. Frozen Food.
You have put *some* of your Health and Beauty items in a random display between Girls and Greeting Cards. The rest are over near paper towels.
Your aisles are now wide enough for a single cart. There is no wiggle room. Another person in the aisle? No problem, as long as they back out of the aisle. Perhaps that is your way of giving people some privacy; that “alone time” that some people need.
At the checkout, your clerk was complaining about computers. I might even say whining about them. But she rang up my items and then…..
The computer froze. The clerk’s response? “I wish this was mine so I could take a hammer to it!” Followed by “WHY ME!?!?” No sign of “I’m sorry for the delay. Let me get the manager.” The manager wandered over at the sound of the whining and said she had to reboot and it would take a while so I had to go to another register. No sign of “I apologize for the inconvenience. Let me help you move your purchases.” It was just “You should go to that one. She’s not doing anything.”
So, my friend. You are no longer my happy place. You are dead to me. I will find my items elsewhere. You aren’t the only big box store on the block. I will no longer go in for a birthday card and come out with a cart full of stuff.
It’s not just that you let me down. It’s that you let me down, and had your people brush me aside like “I” was the problem. I deserve to be treated better. I deserve respect.
As I said before. It’s not me. It’s you. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s over.
Regards,
MaM
PHOTO CREDIT: http://livingalimitlesslife.wordpress.com/2011/11/29/its-over/
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