There’s
this love-hate relationship I have with the Internet. On the one hand,
it’s drained people’s attention spans like pus from a cyst (sorry, that
was gross), and I’m pretty sure I just spent the last 20 minutes in a
trance, looking at someone’s random collection of silly and embarrassing
wedding photos. On the other hand, I no longer have to leave the house
to do my Christmas shopping, which pleases me as both a consumer and a
reclusive hermit.
Grudgingly,
I do have to acknowledge that, yes, there are a handful of benefits to
the in-person shopping experience that you miss out on by going the eBay
route. No mall excursion would be complete without the honeyed
background noise of Johnny Mathis singing about his ring-ting-tingling;
that’s always a nice touch, although after a while it just sounds like
he’s crooning about a rash. And mall Santas are always fun, unless
you’re one of them, in which case there’s a pretty good chance you’ll
finish your shift looking like you’ve gone a few rounds with Clubber
Lang from “Rocky III.”
I
jest, of course; the sights and sounds of the season are among the more
compelling reasons to get up off the couch and into the thick of
things. (That and walking off Aunt Ethyl’s Thanksgiving pie.) But every
year I find it more and more difficult to suck up my courage and walk
through those automatic sliding doors. Maybe it’s a function of getting
older, but fighting crowds and jostling elbows to get a prime deal on a
toaster is less rewarding than it used to be. At their worst, holiday
crowds feel like a giant mosh pit at a heavy metal concert, only they’re
more violent, and no one seems to be having any fun.
Sites
like Amazon and NewEgg have become especially attractive now that the
holiday shopping season has nearly overshadowed Christmas itself,
devouring it with the flesh-hungry fervor of a rabid wildebeast. Black
Friday has now given way to Thankless Thursday; rather than settling in
with family for an afternoon of gorging on goopy turkey innards, the way
Thanksgiving should be, many people now spend that kickoff to the
season camped outside big-box stores like they’re waiting to score prime
seats for a Springsteen show. Retailers have brazenly ignored the
languid vibe of that hoiday in favor of keeping their doors open,
presumably because people would rather trounce their neighbors for ten
bucks off a TV set, and all in a kind of mad rush that rivals Spain’s
annual running of the bulls. In fact, being chased through narrow
streets by a bull is less likely to result in injury, since bulls tend
not to place much value in the entertainment potential of a discounted
Iron Man Blu-Ray.
Contrast
that with one of my recent online shopping splurges. Here’s the scene:
Me in a tattered hoodie bespecked with ketchup stains, butt sinking into
a couch cushion, feet up on a makeshift ottoman. Laptop on a table in
front of me; steaming cup of herbal tea within arm’s reach. Music
playing through the TV, volume low. Mellow lighting. Not a soul in
sight. Solitary, peaceful, quiet.
Ahhh.
That’s what holiday shopping should be
like. No garish displays featuring cartoon Santas using Gillette’s
latest shaving technology; no long lines at the register, where the
cashier has the hollowed-out expression of someone who’s trapped inside a
North Korean prison camp. Just me, my debit card, and the strangely
disquieting sound of Ted Nugent shredding on a hard rock version of
“Deck the Halls.” I didn’t even have to wear pants. (Turns out I did,
but it’s nice just to have the option.)
It’s
hard for me to acknowledge the superiority of the online experience
given my antipathy toward technology run amok. Not to sound like an old
fuddy duddy, but between wi-fi enabled refrigerators, smartphones that
cook waffles and clean your underwear, and Facebook profiles for
peoples’ pets, enough is enough. Gadgets and whiz-bang machines are
supposedly designed to bring people closer together, but it’s now easier
to make eye contact with someone over a Skype connection than it is in
person. There are benefits to this – living in a digital world lowers
the possibility of randomly running into Pauley Shore – but
increasingly, society is a fractured mirror, and the blunt instrument of
its damage is inscribed with the Apple insignia.
Only
something drastic, like holiday fever, could drive me to seek shelter
in a cyber store. I won’t do all
my shopping online; once I’ve covered the major purchases, I’ll hit up
local shops and mom-and-pop outfits for the odds and ends. Those are
usually the best places to find the more unique items, like candles that
smell like beaver poop, or wood sculptures of Maine black bears riding
tricycles. And unlike the big-box stores, these little nooks in the wall
still know the value of an understated Christmas motif: A few tasteful
lights, a mellow instrumental holiday album on the stereo, and a
manageable traffic flow that avoids human logjams. If that was still the
soul of Christmas giving, I’d gladly exchange the hoodie for a reindeer
sweater and hit the bricks, seeking those gifts that warm hearts and
make eyes sparkle. Maybe someday the tide will turn that way once again.
Until then?
On
eBay, on NewEgg, on Etsy and Bulktix! On Bookswim, on GameFly, on EToys
and Netflix! From the guts of my laptop plugged into the wall, I’ve got
my free shipping ... so to hell with the mall!
No comments:
Post a Comment