we need to have a little talk.
You see, I used to go to Borders a lot. You remember Borders, don’t you? Yeah, it’s that book store chain whose store location you took over in West Lebanon a few years back when they went the way of the apatosaur. You kept most everything in the same place (to the point where I get this distinct “Zombie Borders” feel when I walk into your store), so it’s all familiar, and your prices are certainly not out of line. But I don’t shop there very often.
You want to know why that is?
Because your sales goobers (under orders from above, no doubt) push that GODDAMN REWARDS PROGRAM four or five times, without fail, every time I check out at your registers.
Just on Saturday, I went to pick up a little trinket for the kids (and I do have to give you props for your well-stocked Nerd Toys section). Not only did I get pestered again at the register (I counted—the dude pushed your loyalty card four times), but while I was waiting in line before I finally got to pay, the same guy—working the one open register—went through the same ritual with every single customer before me, extending the duration of the checkout procedure by at least triple the necessary amount, despite the fact that the line was half a dozen people long. Factoring in my time, I’m paying double for my trinkets because I am forced to wait for Captain I’m-Here-All-Day-Anyway to do his little Marketing Kabuki ritual.
Nobody—and I mean nobody—likes waiting in line ten minutes to pay for $15 worth of trinkets just because your cashiers are drilled to push that GODDAMN REWARDS PROGRAM on EVERY SINGLE CUSTOMER, MULTIPLE TIMES, as if to try and get them to pony up the goddamn $25 a year just to STOP THE GODDAMN ANNOYANCE and GET THE HELL ON WITH THEIR DAY.
You want to know why I mostly buy my stuff from Amazon or the indie store down the road these days? Because it doesn’t waste my time nearly as much. I can assure you that the lack of speed and convenience has lost your store way more than just $25 a year in lost profits from sales to me alone.
Seriously—get with the program, Books-A-Million. Or, you know, apatosaur.