For all you lazy Luke’s and Last Minute Lucy’s; I feel your pain.  You see, I too procrastinate until the last possible moment before buying Christmas gifts.

It’s not that I don’t like buying people gifts; it’s just that I don’t like shopping, even for myself.  While some look at shopping as a competitive sport and will spend hours studying the playbook, more commonly known as the sale papers, I want to get what I need and get out before I am devoured like a limping zebra at the watering hole.

 My beloved first born makes a shopping trip almost like a scavenger hunt, checking competitive pricing on the internet before going to the store and then taking advantage of the oft advertised but rarely used price match policies.  She not only gets a discount off the store price but gets a discount below the competing stores price as well.  She is very much like me in that she too hates to shop but the challenge of getting the discounts and rebates are enough to keep her shopping cart rolling.

I, on the other hand, would prefer to pay a premium if it meant speaking to someone who knows what the hell they are talking about and are able to communicate that information in English.  I would pay even more if it would entitle me to expedited service through the checkout lines and still more for a few blocker cars to run interference and help me get out of the parking lot where carnivorous Christmas shoppers circle in wait for a harried shopping neophyte like me.

I considered shopping on-line this year and found a few interesting ideas. 

For the ladies on my list I considered the new line of high fashion pantyhose designed by that stalwart of American values Lindsay Lohan.  Ms. Lohan just released her new line of couture leggings called 6126 which include a pair of black nylons intentionally tattered with huge holes and runs down both legs.  These ripped up stockings are designed for the “I just had a terrible car wreck” look that is so popular today.  While they will only set you back a measly $80.00 per pair, I decide against it.

For the guys I thought that while Michael Jordan and Charlie Sheen are all over the TV tube hawking the working man’s underwear from Haines, if you really want to make a guy feel like a star down thar you need only buy a pair of Hanro Cotton Sporty Knit Boxers Model 3505.  These delightful underbritches are touted by none other than megastar and apparent underpants aficionado Adam Sandler, who wore them in a scene of that blockbuster movie “Spanglish” (at least I think it was a movie).  The little butt huggers are far from being tighty whities, advertised as full cut for roominess and comfort and only $70.00 per pair.  Once again, I decided against it. 

I had no choice but to venture out onto the precipice of insanity and go shopping. 

I wanted to go to a place where I could buy for just about everyone on my list.  My choice was the big box store that I racked over the burning coals last Christmas season for the inept, apathetic service delivered by teenaged assistants who were far more interested in scoring a little cuddle time with other assistants than helping confused shoppers like me.  I prepared for the worst, braced myself for the impending doom and went to Best Buy.

What a surprise.

Instead of having to search for a libido driven adolescent in a blue polo shirt I was greeted by a plethora of adult sales clerks, each asking if I needed any help finding something and even offering advice on some of the hottest items.  And this wasn’t at just one store.  I went to several Best Buys in three different states and had the same experience.  Helpful associates who didn’t point and say “It’s over there” but rather walked me to the items I was looking for and before leaving asked if there was anything else I needed.  At the checkout, there were sufficient registers open to keep the crush of shoppers waiting in line to a minimum and a few floor managers walking around asking if anybody needed further assistance.

It is obvious that Best Buy has made a corporate decision to keep as many of their currently cash strapped customers as possible in this recessionary market.  I wondered if the horrid job market played a part, allowing retailers like Best Buy to get more qualified, mature salespeople to work the floors than in years past.  Whatever the reason, it made me want to give my limited holiday dollars to a store chain that took customer service back to where it used to be.  Actual service.

While this experience may not make me look forward to Christmas shopping, at least I can walk with my head held high and my undies unbundled.

Even if they aren’t Hanro Model 3505’s.

OK, so maybe I am not an experienced professional shopper, but I am able to discern between good service and crappy service. With all the doom and gloom out there right now for the retailers one would think they would be especially service oriented. One would be wrong.

I read in the papers that retailers have cut back on their holiday staffing due to poor sales. My thought whilst traversing the only moderately crowded stores was that they must have cut the wrong ones. I can’t believe that the folks I encountered were the best the stores could find. And if they were, we are in more trouble then we realized.

When I do my Christmas shopping I know what I want and when I find it I buy it. I am not one to go to ten different stores to try to save 3% while wasting double that amount in fuel and valium. If the product I want is on sale, great. If it’s not, oh well, I buy it anyway. I am truly an easy sale. But I’ll be damned if I buy something from a store that doesn’t have the decency to staff its sales floor with competent people. I’m not looking for experts. I understand that most of these sales clerks are young and are not highly paid. But if I have a question I expect the clerk to be able to answer that question, not read the side of the box to me aloud.

My first stop was to a big box store that shall remain nameless, but whose initials are BB as in Best Buy. The store honestly appeared to have almost as many blue shirted sales clerks as they did harried shoppers. There were at least 6 young men in blue shirts in the department I was in and two young blue shirted women. The volume on the speakers for the wall of flat panel TV’s was set just slightly under that which would cause your eyes to bleed. I felt fairly secure that if I had a heart attack while looking for someone to help me the base tones pumping out of the sub woofer would in fact be sufficient to do the necessary chest compressions to save my life.

The products I was looking to purchase are not cheap, and that’s OK. As I said, I do not shop, I buy. But the choices are so many and the specifications are such that you need to be an electrical engineer just to read the cards explaining the products. I attempted to grab the attention of one of the young sales associates but the boys in blue shirts were far too busy trying to observe what was under the girl blue shirts to pay any attention to me. So being savvy in the way of the mating ritual I attempted to persuade one of the young females to help. I figured if I could get her to walk the aisle with me I would likely have the gaggle of her devoted followers as well.

I approached cautiously so as not to spook the herd and with a gun battle blazing on the wall of TV’s and through the tower of speakers I was able to communicate in sign language that I needed some help in aisle 3. As we approached the products I was interested in I had the great good fortune of having a respite in the gun battle and was able to ask for the differences and advantages between four different brand name models. To my amazement the young clerk looked right at me and said “I think they’re pretty much all the same” to which I replied “Then why are they priced between $169 and $450?” She then began reading aloud the product cards for each unit. I stopped her and said “I have read the cards, but what does that mean?” A puzzled look covered her young face as if I had just asked her to located China on a globe. “Let me get my manager” she said and hurried away before I could ask her another product related question.

The department manager was a young fellow who appeared to be about 12 years old. He was talking into a walkie talkie cell phone in one hand and was text messaging someone on a cell phone in his other hand. I could see my young sales clerk asking him for assistance just as World War III began again in earnest on the wall of TV’s. So there she stood while he shouted into his walkie talkie in what could only have been inaudible garble with the nuclear audio attack in the background and feverishly texting his little thumb off with the other hand.

Finally after peace had been declared in video land and I was still unattended I decided that I would just find myself another store to throw my money at. I left the BB and headed for my next stop, the Verizon store.

If I get the chance I will detail that visit at a later date, but suffice it to say my visit ended without a purchase and the young sales clerk saying “I really don’t know anything about that phone. Let me get my manager.”

Christmas is indeed a time for giving…………………………………………………………gift cards.