Sit On Your Thinking Parts Honey

A new couch arrived for the store today.  It replaces the glider bench that previously occupied the front and center spot.  We called it the Man Bench as mostly men (and some kids) made a bee line for the seat, happy to be resting while the “women folk” ambled through the store.  The shrewder parts of me know that if a guy gets to sit down and suffocate his thinking parts, then his female counterpart is not badgered into leaving the “girl” store and can take her time and subsequently buy more.  Why more stores don’t have lounge areas for the guys is beyond me, but it pays for itself ten fold.

The problem with the glider bench was that it would flip over backwards if you rocked too fast or far.  Not exactly something one wants for customer care or liability issues.  We always kept a close eye out for the exuberant rocker, but invariably some boy and a few men kicked the thing into overdrive and flipped it right over.  The look of shock alway amused me (once they were declared unscathed) as I just told them not to do that, what would happen, and yet when it did, shock!  Like I am making it up because spoiling their fun is what I am all about.  I am also against kittens, rainbows, and ice cream – too much fun.

We have had 7 boys (including my two sons) and one 72-year-old man flip that bench to the point of it being cracked and my personal heart attack waiting to happen.  So I ordered a dark brown funky modern comfy loveseat.  It arrived today, olive green, not dark brown, and a couch, not a loveseat.  It fits, but is a bit big, but can fold out into a futon bed so during the next big snowstorm I can stay at the store should I get trapped.  Which almost did happen on Valentine’s Day a couple years ago BTW.

We’ll keep it and make it work, because every man with his girl who wants to go into our store can’t help but see that plush inviting couch from the window.  It calls them like a beacon in a storm begging them to sit down, rest and leave their worries behind, or at least to sit on them.

A Few Too Many Sometimes Is A Good Thing

It’s Oktoberfest in town this weekend.  The Rotary’s annual big fundraising event and a chance for folks to relive the beer hall experience (even though most have never been to a beer hall) complete with an Umpa band and yards and yards of beer.  Any veteran of fundraisers knows that alcohol is often a critical component of fundraising at auctions, both live and silent.  So a beer hall just screams revenue.  I think they raise upwards of $50,000 after it is all said and done. 

I really appreciate the event as a business owner because while the men are bonding over hefferveisen and stout, the ladies grow bored quickly and amble on down to town and start shopping.  The gloves come off when you are the designated driver and long math is not the strong suit of most inebriated husbands.  I had a friend who bid something like $5000 on a couple of primo tickets to a Red Sox game and a dinner at one of those fancy black tie affairs.  Honestly, unless you are sitting in Tim Wakefield’s lap and he is spoon feeding you filet, there are very few seats at Fenway that you can’t get for lots less than that.  But as my friend admits, he had four too many, likes to win, and hey, “it’s all for charity right?!”  Cue the complimentary bottle of wine for the fine gentlemen’s table, thank you very much.

I Smell Like Lemonade

Last night I made up a bunch of sugar scrubs to sell in the store. Been working on this recipe for a while now and think I have it down. I also spilled a whole jar of the creation all over me when packaging it up. I smelled like Lemon Surprise the rest of the night. My skirt and I were very well moisturized and let me just say, Stain Stick is a wonder product when trying to get a large circle of oil off of one’s denim skirt.