A friend recommended 42nd Street Photo, but I cannot fathom why. From a glance at their website, the prices seemed pretty fair and the location was not too far, so I printed out the pages for four or five models that seemed like good choices. Upon arriving at the store, my printed pages were scorned. "The website is separate from the store." But a few questions revealed that the website pulls the merchandise from the store and that they were in fact the same company. An order could be placed on the web, but I couldn't just come by to pick up the order. A shipping fee would have to be paid for the 9 blocks that it would be travelling. This is what one can expect from a store named 42nd Street Photo that is on Fifth Avenue between 35th and 36th Streets.
Undaunted, I perused the online prices at Adorama and a few others in the same area. The prices were fair; a phone call confirmed that the prices were real. So out went the Offender again. All of the shops scouted out had already closed for the night. My hours are long and my lunches short; my ability to get to these stores by the time I wanted my new camera in hand limited. Just do it on the weekend? They were all closed on Saturday, which is apparently a holy day to the photo cult to which all of the shop owners must have belonged.
Saturday night needed to see me with a lens pointed at fabulosity. So, Saturday morning found my principles abandoned; I headed out to my secret place. A place so filled with shame I could never tell anyone that I was going. My secret place is a land of big box stores, all in a row with throngs of people seeking out amazing, shiny things festooned in Nautica and Tommy Hilfiger and perfumed with the scents of Beyonce and J. Lo. Taking my fashion down a notch or twelve (must not attract attention from the locals), I told the subway conductor, "Driver, take me to Queens Boulevard."
From Best Buy to Sears, P.C. Richard to Macy's, Electronique Boutique to Radio Shack. Each had almost the same selection at exactly the same price. The homogenity was mind-numbing (or maybe it was the chemical helper in use to get me through the ordeal). Determination set in as I wanted the same price that I had found at the smaller shops. Eventually, I did, but with a catch. The price would be the same if I included the "$30 gift card" that would be sent to me. Thus perpetuating a return to the big box.
Could I justify the dismissal of principle and turn my back on the small shopkeepers? What kind of person had I become?
A person that was taking lots of pictures Saturday night.
