Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Lines
Saturday morning I tried to go visit the new Apple store in my local mall.
First, I breezed through Nordstrom, flush with excitement over their bi-yearly BIG SALE. Women and kids, this time -- and shoes! I was hoping to find a swimsuit and normally wouldn't consider Nordstrom because, hey, who needs to spend $150 on two scraps of polyester and spandex, right? But the sale was substantial, and I eyemarked a couple of suits to try on once I'd indulged my inner computer geek.
As I rode the Nordstrom escalator upstairs at a quarter of 11 (the mall having been open only 45 minutes) I peered past the women's sportswear section down the wing of the mall where the new Apple store lives. No great bustling crowd, no undulating mass of people -- hmmm, I thought, not too crowded...excellent.
I did my aforementioned eyemarking and traipsed along to the Nordstrom exit. A group were congregating on the rail overlooking the lower level and I wondered why are they standing there? Are they waiting for someone in the fancy eyeglasses store?
And then I saw it.
The line.
It stretched before me, in orderly geekiness, all the way down the wing, around the rail at the far end, halfway back towards me, culminating in the least chaotic frenzy I've ever seen. Those queued up wore acid-washed jeans with t-shirts tucked all the way in; one man wore a turtleneck dicky under his German message tee. Another fellow had his laptop out -- although I wondered why he'd bring a Dell Inspiron to the opening of an Apple store. Two girls with minihandbags and lime green accessories teetered on their rope wedgies next to a couple with two small children, one in stroller.
It was unbelievable -- the length and breadth of the crowd. I shook my head. Not worth it, I mentally professed. Not just to walk inside and touch the merchandise. And indeed, I was correct. I have an Apple at home. I have an iPod, and a slick Mac at work. I have access to everything in that store at a discount because of my job. Not worth the lines. Not at all.
But even as I strolled past the hodgepodge of Applephilics, I marveled at their dedication. Some of them must have arrived before the mall was open. More would have walked in with the senior citizens doing their morning Mall Walk. Some were, perhaps, as foolhardy as I, arriving after the department stores opened. And the line wielded its power over them equally. Some would wait a short time, others hours. But all would wait, eagerly peering down the wing, mentally calculating how long till they could hold a gleaming 40 GB iPod.
It must be nice to have the drive, or at least the drive to inertia, that compels one to stand in a mall, waiting to visit a store that sells computers already available online, or in several other retail outlets. Brand loyalty to an extreme, is what I call that.
What is my extreme loyalty? What would I stand in line for? And how long would I be willing to wait?
First, I breezed through Nordstrom, flush with excitement over their bi-yearly BIG SALE. Women and kids, this time -- and shoes! I was hoping to find a swimsuit and normally wouldn't consider Nordstrom because, hey, who needs to spend $150 on two scraps of polyester and spandex, right? But the sale was substantial, and I eyemarked a couple of suits to try on once I'd indulged my inner computer geek.
As I rode the Nordstrom escalator upstairs at a quarter of 11 (the mall having been open only 45 minutes) I peered past the women's sportswear section down the wing of the mall where the new Apple store lives. No great bustling crowd, no undulating mass of people -- hmmm, I thought, not too crowded...excellent.
I did my aforementioned eyemarking and traipsed along to the Nordstrom exit. A group were congregating on the rail overlooking the lower level and I wondered why are they standing there? Are they waiting for someone in the fancy eyeglasses store?
And then I saw it.
The line.
It stretched before me, in orderly geekiness, all the way down the wing, around the rail at the far end, halfway back towards me, culminating in the least chaotic frenzy I've ever seen. Those queued up wore acid-washed jeans with t-shirts tucked all the way in; one man wore a turtleneck dicky under his German message tee. Another fellow had his laptop out -- although I wondered why he'd bring a Dell Inspiron to the opening of an Apple store. Two girls with minihandbags and lime green accessories teetered on their rope wedgies next to a couple with two small children, one in stroller.
It was unbelievable -- the length and breadth of the crowd. I shook my head. Not worth it, I mentally professed. Not just to walk inside and touch the merchandise. And indeed, I was correct. I have an Apple at home. I have an iPod, and a slick Mac at work. I have access to everything in that store at a discount because of my job. Not worth the lines. Not at all.
But even as I strolled past the hodgepodge of Applephilics, I marveled at their dedication. Some of them must have arrived before the mall was open. More would have walked in with the senior citizens doing their morning Mall Walk. Some were, perhaps, as foolhardy as I, arriving after the department stores opened. And the line wielded its power over them equally. Some would wait a short time, others hours. But all would wait, eagerly peering down the wing, mentally calculating how long till they could hold a gleaming 40 GB iPod.
It must be nice to have the drive, or at least the drive to inertia, that compels one to stand in a mall, waiting to visit a store that sells computers already available online, or in several other retail outlets. Brand loyalty to an extreme, is what I call that.
What is my extreme loyalty? What would I stand in line for? And how long would I be willing to wait?
