Two for Ten Dollars
Having worked in the front office of a sports organization I tend to pay attention to game operations as much as the game itself when attending organized sporting events. The music that is played between batters, the ways we are hooked into thinking about a sponsor, it's all part of the experience for me.
As is the hawking.
My first year with the sports organization we were wrapping things up with a team in one city, preparing to move it to another city to make room for the new team. Moving to a new city meant changing the name of the team, so that meant all the merchandise the team currently had on hand would be meaningless at the end of the season. And there was a LOT of merchandise. Picture a warehouse the size of two racquetball courts FILLED with t-shirts and tchotchkes and such. There was really only one solution available - CLEARANCE SALE! So for the last week of the season we were out on the sidewalk in front of the stadium before every game trying to blow out as much of the merch as we could.
At the time we could probably be considered a small but scrappy start-up. 15-ish employees, and although we all had official job descriptions there was definitely an atmosphere of do what needs to be done to get the job done. Additionally, I was trying to get my foot planted firmly in the door as a temp-turning-permanent who wanted to climb her way up the ladder.
That meant t-shirt duty. We had about 8 big banquet tables filled with t-shirts to unload. The first night out there the shirts were piled up as high as my head, with boxes of overstock to boot. By the end of the week we could cater to the small and the XXXL almost exclusively. My chant during that week was, "TWO FOR TEN DOLLARS" and you could hear my voice echoing from what others have told me. (Which should be no surprise to those who know me, as I'm a little too good at projecting my voice at times). Lost my voice at the end of it all, but it was worth it. We unloaded a lot of t-shirts and it ended up being a hell of a lot of fun.
Last night I went to the Mariners game with my Sweetie. Because of work schedules I took the bus over to the stadium on my own, and met up with him at our seats. It's day 2 of the season, raining and cold, and our team isn't very good. That means it's not a very crowded night.
One of the things I enjoy about Safeco Field is that as you are approaching the stadium from the north (downtown) there is a street that gets shut down with hawkers and street performers running up and down the lane. Anyone coming to the field via bus or from downtown walks through here, and there's a funnel action going on with how the parking lots line up. On a beautiful Saturday or Sunday afternoon you can feel the energy growing as you approach the stadium.
Last night it was a trickle of bodies, and I don't think a lot of hawkers bothered to set up shop. Those that were there were mostly happy to take your money, but weren't working the few of us in the crowd that hard.
With one exception. I was in a rush last night, but I'll go back later this season and buy peanuts from this fellow. He was an asian fellow, in his 70s or 80s, short. He held a bag of peanuts in each hand, raised them above his head as a runner celebrating finishing a marathon, and at the top of his lungs, with a Hari-kiri style cry, would shout out, "PEANUTS!"
He'd only yell it every minute or two. Often enough you noticed his distinct voice, but not so often that it was grating or annoying. He had such passion, such ferocity, with his call to let us know that he had PEANUTS!!! Anyone with that much conviction in his peanuts is a man I want to be buying peanuts from.
Now if only the Mariners could have such passion and conviction when they play the game. I fear it's going to be a long baseball season in Seattle.
I promise I'll start blogging about something other than baseball soon. Maybe.
As is the hawking.
My first year with the sports organization we were wrapping things up with a team in one city, preparing to move it to another city to make room for the new team. Moving to a new city meant changing the name of the team, so that meant all the merchandise the team currently had on hand would be meaningless at the end of the season. And there was a LOT of merchandise. Picture a warehouse the size of two racquetball courts FILLED with t-shirts and tchotchkes and such. There was really only one solution available - CLEARANCE SALE! So for the last week of the season we were out on the sidewalk in front of the stadium before every game trying to blow out as much of the merch as we could.
At the time we could probably be considered a small but scrappy start-up. 15-ish employees, and although we all had official job descriptions there was definitely an atmosphere of do what needs to be done to get the job done. Additionally, I was trying to get my foot planted firmly in the door as a temp-turning-permanent who wanted to climb her way up the ladder.
That meant t-shirt duty. We had about 8 big banquet tables filled with t-shirts to unload. The first night out there the shirts were piled up as high as my head, with boxes of overstock to boot. By the end of the week we could cater to the small and the XXXL almost exclusively. My chant during that week was, "TWO FOR TEN DOLLARS" and you could hear my voice echoing from what others have told me. (Which should be no surprise to those who know me, as I'm a little too good at projecting my voice at times). Lost my voice at the end of it all, but it was worth it. We unloaded a lot of t-shirts and it ended up being a hell of a lot of fun.
Last night I went to the Mariners game with my Sweetie. Because of work schedules I took the bus over to the stadium on my own, and met up with him at our seats. It's day 2 of the season, raining and cold, and our team isn't very good. That means it's not a very crowded night.
One of the things I enjoy about Safeco Field is that as you are approaching the stadium from the north (downtown) there is a street that gets shut down with hawkers and street performers running up and down the lane. Anyone coming to the field via bus or from downtown walks through here, and there's a funnel action going on with how the parking lots line up. On a beautiful Saturday or Sunday afternoon you can feel the energy growing as you approach the stadium.
Last night it was a trickle of bodies, and I don't think a lot of hawkers bothered to set up shop. Those that were there were mostly happy to take your money, but weren't working the few of us in the crowd that hard.
With one exception. I was in a rush last night, but I'll go back later this season and buy peanuts from this fellow. He was an asian fellow, in his 70s or 80s, short. He held a bag of peanuts in each hand, raised them above his head as a runner celebrating finishing a marathon, and at the top of his lungs, with a Hari-kiri style cry, would shout out, "PEANUTS!"
He'd only yell it every minute or two. Often enough you noticed his distinct voice, but not so often that it was grating or annoying. He had such passion, such ferocity, with his call to let us know that he had PEANUTS!!! Anyone with that much conviction in his peanuts is a man I want to be buying peanuts from.
Now if only the Mariners could have such passion and conviction when they play the game. I fear it's going to be a long baseball season in Seattle.
I promise I'll start blogging about something other than baseball soon. Maybe.
posted by Swankette at 5:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home