The end of my retail dream
Shortly before dawn, I received notice that my company was going out of business. Acquired by a hedge fund, in the south. And worse, my investment would never be recovered.
Let me explain. When I was younger, and filled with dreams of outdoor activity, I joined a co-op, and purchased the required (minimum) share of five dollars. Long enough ago that my investment has grown to something in the area of six (dollars); too small for recovery, should push come to shove. I would be at the very tail end of the list of creditors. Actually, me and five million others, according to the website.
My actual involvement in the firm was also minimal. Every so often, I’d receive emails, inviting me to cast my ballot for the next board of directors. All strangers, all out on the other coast. I read the biographical material, quickly, and moved on. Secure that whomever made the cut, they would have my best interests at heart. And along the way, I would purchase essential items: new sleeping bags, water bottles, odd bits of camping hardware. From my store, don’t forget.
Retail is tough, I’ve been told. Uneven buying periods. Competition from other firms. Actually, most of the others have also gone out of business, which means that my next sleeping bag will come from (where else?) the Amazon. And the pleasure of roaming the aisles where I could have bought enough gear for an unexpected scaling of a mountain, or cooking a fresh fish, or withstanding a torrential downpour that shifted into a blizzard… gone now. I’m sorry about that.
