I’m getting tired of visiting local small businesses with HUGE attitude problems. Everyone is supposed to love the local and support the community, but it becomes difficult when these businesses don’t create a welcoming environment. I worked in a small retail shop for six years and it was our first priority to welcome our guests with a smile/joke/hello to break the ice.
Please don’t turn your head and ignore me when I enter. Please don’t force me to demand service while standing in front of you for 30 seconds, waiting for you to grace me with your attention. Please don’t create a hostile silent shopping environment and please stop making me feel like a pariah for trying to make small talk while I’m in your shop (nervous laughter ensues).
Another shop has recently been added to my list of no go’s, and my discovery of a small gift shop in Dartmouth I will keep to myself. From one small business owner to another, customers pay the bills and allow you to practice your passion. Try not to alienate them, and I wouldn’t be reading about how hard it is for the small businesses of NS to keep their doors open. —Trying to Love Local
This article appears in Jun 25 – Jul 1, 2015.
Hahaha! Local. Hahaha!
Dammit! Now all the retailers will read this and try even harder to be my “friend” when all I really want is to be left alone while I shop. No greetings, no false gaiety, no inane and disruptive small talk. Don’t ask me if I need your assistance. I am an adult and if I need help I know how to ask for it. THAT is when I want a shop employee to be visible. Until then, leave me alone to shop in peace.
OP, I guess one person’s hell is another’s bliss.
Be sure to communicate this with the business owner. A good owner will value the feedback and make changes to improve. Bad owners will ignore that feedback and go out of business.
There are no small gift shops in Dartmouth. It’s a front for a speakeasy.
Love the 20 somethings who dont look up from their phones
One place to avoid is a certain little restaurant dive in Eastern Passage that goes by a first name. While the service was stellar, the prices were high, the portions ridiculously low. $1 for a tiny paper ketchup cup of chutney? A 3 oz. bowl of baked beans and 1 frigging small fishcake for $12? Plus some old chick with dark hair & specs kept hassling me in the parking lot, threatening me with a half-crumpled box of wine and a garden hose.
Was the first name “Adolf?”
The “local” thing is just another way to separate you from your money.
Right on, Oceanchick.