Retail Stories #1: The Myth of the Magical Back
By Summer Block

The first in an occasional series . . .

Like most people who majored in Medieval Studies, I've spent a lot of time working in retail. What Medieval Studies and retail have in common is that both endeavors require the apprehension and application of powerful governing mythologies. The central myth of retail, of course, is that the customer is always right. That is, the very fact that someone is choosing to purchase an item means that they are above reason and reproach. Most everything else follows from that.

However other smaller but no less pernicious myths attend the retail transaction. My favorite I like to refer to as "The Myth of the Magical Back." That is, no matter how impossible the odds, a customer is always ready to ask "Do you have one in the back?"

Just what exactly do you think is back there? What's up here, only dustier. But nothing will dissuade this starry-eyed dreamer: the Back is the repository of his fondest wishes and his wildest dreams.

"Do you have it in red?" "Do you have it in large?" "Do you have one like this, only smooshier?" "Are you sure?" "Can you look in the back?"

Now I work here. I know what's back there. But I also know that nothing will pacify the customer except walking back there to take a look. So I stride resolutely into the Back, spend four to six minutes making fun of the customer's haircut with the stock guys, and then return to deliver my report.

For most customers, that is enough. I am the gatekeeper of the Back, and so I occupy a powerful, liminal role not unlike that of a priestess or sage. But the most foolhardy then want to know, "Can I just go back there and look myself?"

The standard answer is, "No, I'm sorry, we can't allow you in the back for liability reasons. There are pallet jacks, fork lifts, and unstable shelving, all of which might kill you."

The real answer is, "If you go back there, there'll be no need for pallet jacks. We'll kill you ourselves." The Back is where we go to get away from you, and bringing a customer into the Back, where we're all busy drinking, smoking, gossiping, scanning the want ads, or quietly weeping, is treachery.

The kind of person who insists on going in the Back is also the kind of person who makes a lot of trouble in the front. During my tenure as a department head at a major housewares chain, I came upon a customer shouting at one of my meeker coworkers. In his left hand was a pink and green throw rug, which he was shaking with the aggrieved air of a deeply wronged man. The rug measured two feet by three.

As I listened in, I heard the customer explain that this small rug was priced at $15.95. Another rug of the same pattern, this one four feet by six, was $52.95.

"So, why exactly is this rug $52.95 when this other one is only $15.95?"

"Because it's larger," she said soothingly.

"But it's twice as big! It should be twice the price!"

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't have any control of the prices here."

"Look, this is totally unreasonable! It must be a mistake." His face reddened.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

The customer's voice rose to a high, petulant whine. "Is there someone else I can speak to here? I want to speak to the manager."

"I can get the manager, but we can't change the prices here."

Now the customer is gathering some rhetorical steam. "So, okay, then, fine - you'll just buy into the system, then? So you won't even question this price? I just want one person to give me a damn answer!"

Which brings us again to the foundational myth of retail: The customer is always right, even when he is demonstrably, provably, arithmetically wrong.

I approached with the brisk, cheerful competence of an elementary school science teacher.

"Look, all I want is an answer from one of you people!" He was nearly in tears. "Why isn't this rug twice the price of the other one?"

I explained: "A four by six rug is not twice as big as a two by three rug. It's four times as big." "What do you mean?"

"A four by six rug is 24 square feet. A two by three rug is only six square feet."

Silence.

"It takes four two by three rugs to make a four by six rug."

"This rug is half the size of this one!" he insisted. But somewhere, there is a crack in the armor. We all sensed his weakness and leaned imperceptibly closer.

"I can show you if you like."

I set two 2'x3' rugs on the floor. "You can see they aren't as big as a four by six, only half as big. It would take four of these rugs to make a four by six. And since each two by three rug is $16, and four would be $64, you can see that you actually save money by buying a four by six."

Slowly he set the smaller rug back on the shelf. He opened his mouth and began, "But the point is, that the corporate office … what I want is a rug that's four by six and twice as big."

So what you want, in effect, is a rug that cannot exist in Euclidian space. Let me check, maybe we have one in the Back.

——

Summer Block does not have that in red.

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