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Shopping Quotes

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Shopping Quotes

“When your pipeline is full – with business coming out of your ears – the notion of people asking for a discount will sound hilarious, because you’ll already be at capacity”

“Over the next hour, the pair hopped from vendor to vendor, purchasing cuts of grass-fed beef, sampling organic fruits and artisan cheeses, and asking lots of questions. It was fun to introduce Julia to the flavors of specialty items, like locally made honey infused with rosemary and rich, buttery Arizona pecans. Julia was a willing participant, trying anything Ginny pointed out.”

“There was a product which seemed attractive, expensive, portable, beautiful and simple. Everybody talked about its beauty but they bought it for it's simplicity.”

“She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex's ground floor. The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria's Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase "confidence," or "sexual appeal," or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground. One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.”

“We all need salespeople with humility, honesty, integrity, empathy and an old-fashioned work ethic that ensures the job gets done.”

“I am not a lady I live in an elevator in a big department store America. “Your floor, lady?” “I don't have a floor, I live in the elevator.” “You can't just live in an elevator.” They all say that except for the man from Time magazine who acted very cool. We stop and let people into dresses, better dresses, beauty, and on the top floor, home furnishings and then the credit office, suddenly stark and no nonsense this is it. At each floor I look out at the ladies quietly becoming ladies and I say “huh” reflectively. My hair is long and wild full of little twigs and cockleburrs. I visit the floors only for water. I make my own food from the berries and frightened rabbits— I pray forgive me brother as I eat— that grow wild in the elevator. Once every three months, solstice and equinox, a cop comes and clubs me a little. The man from Time says I articulate my generation something wobble squeegy squiggle pop pop Yesterday pausing at childrens I saw another lady take off all her clothes and go to live in #7. We are waiting to fill all thirteen.”

“People that have a police car behind them pulling them over should put on their hazard lights and continue slowly driving to the nearest densely populated public place, such as a supermarket or shopping center. Pull over outside the busy entrance and start your video camera. Inform the police officer that you are video recording and very slowly give the requested documentation. Exercise your legal right to silence while the many independent witnesses video record the unexpected stop that rudely interrupts your day. If you are given a ticket, choose to go to court. It will give you time to obtain independent legal advice about the allegation.”

“I fell in love with the girl who fell in line for one serving of strawberries," he admitted. A series of thoughts swirl around Miguel’s head of the girl waiting in line with one medium-sized tub of strawberries. The image of it. He asked: “Was it her persistence of wanting the fruit? Was it the youthfulness of the fruit? Was it the mystery of wondering how she’d eat them—on the grass outside or at home or in the car? Why? Was it wanting to know if she felt stupid herself for waiting in such a long line? Or wanting to know if she at any point felt like abandoning the line? Was it the simplicity of someone who knows what they want? The pleasantness of going to the market and not being seduced by other treats? Was it her patience?” Charm is so dissatisfying.”

“Get up in the morning on a mission to save prospective clients from the shabby, ill-fitting, overpriced and worthless alternatives that those charlatans - who are your competition - are trying to get away with flogging them.”

“Explain the value and justify the cost - People don’t mind paying; they just don’t like to overpay.”

“Don’t tell me you’re passionate about your job – show me that you’re passionate about helping people like me.”

“We all need salespeople who deliver value that wasn’t there before they arrived.”

“The salesperson you’d ideally like to be and the salesperson you’d like to encounter as a customer should roughly be the same, shouldn’t they?”

“Salespeople who think that it’s all about price aren’t required: If it can be sold on the internet at the lowest price, you can take the huge cost of a sales team out of the equation.”

“Remember: when you walk into a DIY store to buy a drill, you don’t want the drill. Your end goal is to make a hole and, in order to achieve this, you have to buy the drill.”

“If what you sell doesn’t help me then why are you knocking on my door?”

“SHE HAD WATCHED THEM in supermarkets and she knew the signs. At seven o'clock on a Saturday evening they would be standing in the checkout line reading the horoscope in Harper's Bazaar and in their carts would be a single lamb chop and maybe two cans of cat food and the Sunday morning paper, the early edition with the comics wrapped outside. They would be very pretty some of the time, their skirts the right length and their sunglasses the right tint and maybe only a little vulnerable tightness around the mouth, but there they were, one lamb chop and some cat food and the morning paper. To avoid giving off the signs, Maria shopped always for a household, gallons of grapefruit juice, quarts of green chile salsa, dried lentils and alphabet noodles, rigatoni and canned yams, twenty-pound boxes of laundry detergent. She knew all the indices to the idle lonely, never bought a small tube of toothpaste, never dropped a magazine in her shopping cart. The house in Beverly Hills overflowed with sugar, corn-muffin mix, frozen roasts and Spanish onions. Maria ate cottage cheese.”

“Destiny has called you to be a god. Are you hero enough for the task? Will you switch on your inner “hero program”, or slink off to the shopping mall or the sports stadium and put it off for yet another day? Maybe you’ll take in a movie. So much easier to watch others doing the heavy lifting, and the actors are just faking it anyway. Where are the real heroes? Where are YOU?!”

“It's time to shop high heels if your fiance kisses you on the forehead.”

“The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of like mistakes, in the best humor possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.”

“Why does Joe Normie think it’s a litmus test for morality if one returns one’s shopping cart? Big-box stores put out of business local retailers, they automated their systems to reduce employees, and they got customers to be their own cashiers without getting paid for their labor, and yet to prove I’m a good person, I’m supposed to do more unpaid work for them to streamline their operation?”

“Nicole and Tina are giggling. Look, I have always known that they are so incredibly immature that I shouldn’t hang out with them, but what can I do? Tina’s the only one whose old man lets her drive the car and I would sooner go into convulsions and die on the floor before I go ask Daddy to give me a lift to the mall. I mean, then you hafta listen to all this “The mall? Again?” hassle and “Did you do your homework?” and “Your grades would be up where they could be if you spent as much time in math as you do in the mall, young lady.” Ick. So I go with Tina, even though she does look like a pig in spandex. She’s my friend.”

“Bling" is not an indication of riches. It is a product of value-based spending, to enrich the pockets of those outside of ones sphere of influence...the haves' bleeding the have-nots'.”

“[Patricia Highsmith] was overwhelmed by sensory stimulation - there were too many people and too much noise and she just could not handle the supermarket. She continually jumped, afraid that someone might recognise or touch her. She could not make the simplest of decisions - which type of bread did she want, or what kind of salami? I tried to do the shopping as quickly as possible, but at the check-out she started to panic. She took out her wallet, knocked off her glasses, dropped the money on the floor, stuff was going all over the place.”