The Way Life Goes :: Short Stories Shopping Papers

The Way Life Goes With the national economy stronger than it has been in decades, 1999 was a peak year for good old American consumerism. Timely for a generation of consumers. Nordstrom Inc., one of the nation’s oldest retail legends, approaches its 100th anniversary with over one hundred department stores across the country. Nordstrom profits by targeting untapped consumer resources in cities such as Providence whose shoppers previously crossed state lines to fill their closets and empty their bank accounts. The opening of one of their shiniest new branches, the first in Rhode Island, boasts milky marble floors, the latest in escalator design and Providence’s highest class of designer clad shoppers. Whether you are in Nashville or Anchorage, the quality of merchandise, service, and shopping environment at Nordstrom is set at a high standard. The air is thick with expensive perfume, sales clerks are smartly dressed and excitable, pink cashmere hangs delicately from the racks. Nordstrom Inc, which has done well in the stock exchange and on the internet, attempts to provide a pleasant shopping experience for customers. After a white chocolate mocha at the Nordstrom Cafà © and three expansive floors of warm overhead lighting, most agree. People come for the atmosphere, the fashion, and if they happen to know about Leroy, they come for the music. Sometime in November, a young man from East Providence wandered into Nordstrom with a group of friends, noticed that the black Steinway on the first floor was silent, sat down, and began to play. As his fingers rolled an eclectic mix of gospel, jazz, and blues across the ivory keys, a crowd of shoppers abandoned their purchases, literally dropped their bags, to surround the piano, drawn by the music to this magnetic musician. No one had heard anything like it, especially in a department store. Stephanie in jewelry dialed Merideth on the third floor. Nineteen year old Leroy Robinson landed himself a job. Three months later at 10:00 on a Tuesday morning, uncomfortable with the silence of slow business, Leroy evokes the same reactions for the few who meander in. Entranced stares. Commending nods. Grown men surround the Steinway to tap their feet, clench their fists, and in a few octaves above their natural ability, sing fragmented lyrics to old jazz tunes. He appears lost in a world of improvisational music but he looks up to acknowledge the customers and smiles at every last one. The Way Life Goes :: Short Stories Shopping Papers The Way Life Goes With the national economy stronger than it has been in decades, 1999 was a peak year for good old American consumerism. Timely for a generation of consumers. Nordstrom Inc., one of the nation’s oldest retail legends, approaches its 100th anniversary with over one hundred department stores across the country. Nordstrom profits by targeting untapped consumer resources in cities such as Providence whose shoppers previously crossed state lines to fill their closets and empty their bank accounts. The opening of one of their shiniest new branches, the first in Rhode Island, boasts milky marble floors, the latest in escalator design and Providence’s highest class of designer clad shoppers. Whether you are in Nashville or Anchorage, the quality of merchandise, service, and shopping environment at Nordstrom is set at a high standard. The air is thick with expensive perfume, sales clerks are smartly dressed and excitable, pink cashmere hangs delicately from the racks. Nordstrom Inc, which has done well in the stock exchange and on the internet, attempts to provide a pleasant shopping experience for customers. After a white chocolate mocha at the Nordstrom Cafà © and three expansive floors of warm overhead lighting, most agree. People come for the atmosphere, the fashion, and if they happen to know about Leroy, they come for the music. Sometime in November, a young man from East Providence wandered into Nordstrom with a group of friends, noticed that the black Steinway on the first floor was silent, sat down, and began to play. As his fingers rolled an eclectic mix of gospel, jazz, and blues across the ivory keys, a crowd of shoppers abandoned their purchases, literally dropped their bags, to surround the piano, drawn by the music to this magnetic musician. No one had heard anything like it, especially in a department store. Stephanie in jewelry dialed Merideth on the third floor. Nineteen year old Leroy Robinson landed himself a job. Three months later at 10:00 on a Tuesday morning, uncomfortable with the silence of slow business, Leroy evokes the same reactions for the few who meander in. Entranced stares. Commending nods. Grown men surround the Steinway to tap their feet, clench their fists, and in a few octaves above their natural ability, sing fragmented lyrics to old jazz tunes. He appears lost in a world of improvisational music but he looks up to acknowledge the customers and smiles at every last one.