Big game shopping with
Conan the Contrarian
By BRAD WARTHEN
Editorial Page Editor
“For years to come, the simple merchant folk of Columbiana will speak of this day, and their voices will be filled with awe,” I announced to my household as I strutted back and forth.
My household rolled its eyes. But I was not to be gainsaid, nor was my glory to be denied. I had just returned from a good, clean shop, the sort of shop that makes a shopping man proud to be what he is. I had gone, I had seen, I had shopped, and no one could take that away.
There are those who derogate the virtues of shopping, especially at this time of year. My friend and comrade Mike Fitts did so on this very page not three days hence. But he is to be forgiven; he has been woefully misled.
There are other men — I spoke to one just recently — who wrongly hold that shopping is properly the work of women. What an abominable falsehood! It denies our hunter-gatherer heritage. Those who propagate it have forgotten the visceral joys of the hunt.
Now the gathering, I grant you, can just as easily be accomplished by women. I would not say otherwise. But the shop itself? It requires certain atavistic reflexes that come only with the Y chromosome. Or two of them, in the case of the great shoppers. It demands strength, agility, a lack of fear, and an innate ability to manipulate objects in space and time.
Forgive me; I boast. But my satisfaction is great. There is something about a good shop that draws upon testosterone, releases endorphins, dilates pupils, opens breathing passages, and makes a man speak boldly in the cadences of Conan the Barbarian.
Which, out of mercy to you, I will now stop doing.
What’s wrong with enjoying the raw challenge of shopping?
I know: Christmas shouldn’t be commercialized. In fact, this isn’t even Christmas season yet, except in the minds of those of us brainwashed by merchandisers. This is Advent. I’m Catholic, and I can read a liturgical calendar.
This is supposed to be a quiet, contemplative time of prayerful anticipation, and for me at least, it never works out that way, for which I feel appropriately guilty. How bad is it? This bad: I was so busy I didn’t go to the special Advent reconciliation service at my church Tuesday, at which I had planned to confess that once again, I had failed to be contemplatively prayerful this month. (So in lieu of that, I confess it to you, my brothers and sisters.)
And yes, it’s really bad for people to get all greedy and acquisitive, and to claw and tear at each other in the struggle to obtain one of a limited supply of something that nobody had heard of a month ago, and without which billions of people have lived happy, fulfilling lives.
But I’m not going to buy one of those. What I am going to do is be honest, and admit that I enjoy the hunt — the shop.
In many ways, I am not a regular guy. I hate football. No, I don’t mean I’m not interested in it; I actively hate it. And yet I don’t hate it as much as “Reality TV,” and look how popular that is. What’s wrong with me?
But when it comes to shopping, I am at one with the zeitgeist. At least, I think I am. So many people complain about having to do it that I wonder. I guess it intimidates them.
But it’s not the shopping itself they fear; it’s the hassle. I’ve never been to war, but if I had to, I think the part I would dread the most would not be the short periods of getting shot at. It would be the months of training, away from home, living in foxholes, not bathing, freezing or roasting, eating MREs, living cheek-by-jowl with a bunch of other smelly guys and standing in line to use the latrine: The hassle.
Shopping can be like that. But it also has its moments of adrenaline rush that make you glad you got out there amongst ’em rather than staying home and ordering gifts from the Web.
Hey, it’s OK to be afraid, kid; we all are. But it’s what you do in spite of your fear that makes the difference.
Before heading out to Harbison last weekend, I groaned as I beheld my list. Why me, I moaned. But there was no question that the time had arrived to begin — all the ads said “Last-minute Gift Ideas,” and that’s a sure sign.
So I made my plans, girded myself, and headed out. And once I was in it, I was in it all the way. Wham! I hit Dutch Square long enough to exchange something that was the wrong size, pick up a couple of other things, and then Bam! slipped into Harbison the back way, evading the congested paths, my mind going at light speed improvising the best, the fastest path to the kill. I pulled into the alley behind PetSmart, left my vehicle next to the dumpster (parking lots are for amateurs), ran in a crouch through the landscaping at the side of the strip, all senses at full alert, and Pow! was into Michael’s and out with the item I had come for, slipping swiftly back to the alley before anyone could ask, “May I help you?” Then back into the car, down the alley the back way to Barnes & Noble (encountering not a single opposing vehicle), where Bam! Bam! BambamBAM! I bought five gifts in as many minutes, and was off, infiltrating the very citadel of capitalism itself — the holy of holies, the Mall — before Harbison had even awakened to my presence… pant, pant. Less than an hour had passed since I had left the house.
Now that’s what I call shopping. Yes! You know it! You have to attack, grab the initiative and maintain it, never giving those who would stop you a chance. If you slow down, you’re finished.
OK, OK, I know this is stupid, and now you’re ticked off that you’ve read this far, but here’s my point: You’ve got to do it anyway. Christmas is Monday. You might as well enjoy it. Be a man. Get out there. Show us how it’s done.
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Brad, that’s comical. But when you referenced going to war, you just gave Mary Rosh an opening upon which it will pounce. The Christmas shoppers who crack me up are the ones who drive their vehicles round and round in the mall parking lots, waiting for a space to open that is maybe 50 feet closer than where they would have parked. Then, in the true Christmas spirit (NOT), they get into a parking space war with a fellow shopper. So you see two cars, nose to nose, blinkers on, ready to pounce on that one treasured space. Undoubtedly, the person who gets that spot, and saved the 50 feet of walking, is heading into Sears to buy a treadmill. It all fits. Exercise, weight loss, healthy living, and the like.
I plan to brave the madding crowds today. And in the spirit of Christmas, even though I am out there shopping with liberals, leftists, atheists, and people of all shapes, colors, sizes, whatever, I plan to be nice to everyone, even that lady in the environmentally correct Mini-Cooper who grabs that cherished spot closest to the store in the last second from me. So Merry Christmas to all and especially let’s keep Christ in Christmas!!!!!!!!!!
I don’t shop. Period. I’ve told my beautiful wife that if she’s into getting and giving, she can have at it. (She goes ahead and does it but I wish she wouldn’t). But Christmas for me is gathering around a table with friends and family and counting blessings and thanking the Blessing Giver. To have to go out into a cold and thankless material world and face down ravenous she-demons for the last tickle-me-elmo would ruin Christmas for me, so I refuse to do it. This is the one time a year that I say capitalism be danged. Ed
Oh, what am I supposed to do with you, Brad? Why in the world did you go to all that trouble if you simply could have gone to those merchants’ websites and bought everything online? They would have been perfectly happy to have UPS or Fedex or even the stodgy old post office deliver your stuff right to your doorstep, and all without your fancy moves sneaking up on the stores without being seen, or at least noticed!
It’s been at least 5 years since I’ve actually gone shopping. The stores I prefer usually offer free shipping above a fairly minimal level and the only time I actually go to a (non-grocery) store is if I need something really fast (i.e. right now rather than 1 or 2 days later) or if I just happen to be passing by on other business.
If Metro Columbia’s merchants depended on me for their business they’d all be bankrupt.
For me shopping in stores is part of the holiday experience. All the people, the smells, the traffic; it’s so exhilarating. Sometimes I go to the mall during the holidays and never buy a thing. My wife thinks I’m crazy, but I love it!