In the Middle

It still surprises me how tired I am after only two days of Holiday Market, though as the third weekend it is cumulative. I guess it is the overstimulation more than the actual work, as perching on a stool is much easier than standing on concrete and being warm and dry is still a delightful contrast to all the many days in the rain and snow before we invented the New Holiday Market. That's what we called it the first year, and I am proud to say I have sold all of the days of all of the HMs we've ever had. I still love it most of the time.

My space now on the corner by the south side doors is a great one. I'm close to the office and can check in on what's happening, and there is an eddy for customers to stop, be directed into Holiday Hall, or regroup. I like the energy that happens there, for the most part. Sometimes it is the location of disturbing incidents but mostly it is a calm center of joy. I made a little door on the side this year which is working out great as an escape for those trapped in the booth by other shoppers and it allows me to see what's happening on that side of my booth as well. I slip in and out and get a new view up Gnome Alley.

Despite my vow to get my shoppers out of the aisle I still have a few items on the outside of the booth that slow people down. Bringing the bags inside has worked okay, though I think I'd be selling more if they were still out there easy to pick up. I thought it was smart to eliminate the temptation for the rare dishonest person who might grab a bag and look like a legit shopper using it to steal, which to my knowledge hasn't happened, but could. I wanted to not stop traffic flow while people looked at the outside items as if they were the only ones, when I had a space filled with them a few steps away. I did make progress in that direction but I still seem to have a blind spot to improvements that I would happily impose on others. It's so much easier to fix other people's problems, it seems.

I really set out to see if I could think of others in my booth design instead of just being my usual self-focused crafter. I made my entrance wider so people could come in, though of course many are still reluctant to cross that invisible line of commitment. Sometimes they go in when I am not there and I sneak in the side door and scare them right out. There are those who have to read every hat and I have to move out of their way and be patient while they do, sometimes allowing me to get a new idea from them regarding what they don't find. I told myself last week not to accept any more special orders, so I just made a list of ideas in case I find some reserve of energy and decide to order more hats.

My typical pattern is to buy a lot more blanks today and then end up with too much inventory at the end. I resist and then do it again every year. Maybe my will is stronger this year. I have plenty of stock, and I get way too obsessive about it. Too much choice sets up a desire in the customer to find the perfect hat, instead of just choosing the one they like most from what I have. I think this is part of the problem we are having around loading out our stock this year.

People who sell a lot of lower-priced items tend to have a huge array of options of these, a real problem when packing, restocking, and maintaining the stock for the duration. We used to say we lost a little on each one, but made it up in volume, and there is a certain truth in the joke. We don't make a lot on each one, and the total inventory gets huge, but we're convinced that if we have all the possible options, everyone will find what they want. For me it seems to spread the sales out so that I sell one or two of each, and can never sell out of anything, so I just keep adding new and not letting go of the old designs. For the last few years I have just been leaving things home, like the last of the kids shirts and the men's longsleeves that are always short on larges, and that sort of space-filling sale stuff. Sure, I make money on it and it does me no good at home, but I end up buying larges to fill the stock and the other sized ones just come back year after year.

Now my strategy is to bring fewer types of items, and only one each of those, and restock every day. I have to say sorry more often, and sometimes I will make a promise and sometimes not. I'm trying not to promise things it is hard to do, like the custom hats people want. Designing and making a screen for a new piece of art is just really hard to do under this kind of pressure.

Emotionally, I am at my weakest this season of the year. It's cold and I don't get the outside time I need, and the stories people bring me can be so disturbing! Lonely women dealing with death or divorce, people barely controlling their PTSD or grief or instability, the occasional heart-warming tale that gets me all excited, and the personal appreciations that are given and received in our community are all atmospheric pressures that float through my corner. We had the annual photo, which seems more giant every year, and we have the annual visits from those who drop in to say their hellos. We get our requests for donations and we make them too. It seems we give as hard as we can, and we do get depleted by that, and at the same time we feel entitled to receive, so focused on extracting the dollars from our guests.

There's a certain amount of cynicism and despair that comes with that. I put up my decorations early and find comfort in the warm lights and handmade treasures I have collected. So much of my joy comes from the Market people, and so many of my burdens do too. We see all of ourselves inside, whether we like it or not. Our generosity sits next to our selfishness. My distress becomes the community distress, just as my hunger manifests as your cookies and my willingness to ask for them. I want to buy from every person I know, and I want them to buy from me. At the same time I don't want anyone else to buy a green tree bag because I am going to run out and then some unknown person who really wants a green tree bag won't get one. It's all very over the top.

So remember to restore your hopes and put your fears aside. Make yourself think of others...if you need help, help someone. If you need love, love someone. Try your best to keep it simple.

I wasn't going to write this week, since it intensifies my vulnerability and I really don't want to be seen quite so much. I do want to remark on all those who are unselfish, buying gifts, sharing their resources, giving more and often, and really thinking of other people instead of how to get more of their needs met. It looks all the more amazing to me from this tired place of Monday. I will keep working. I pledge to pace myself so that 5-day stretch does not ruin the season and set the winter off with painful interactions. Those load-out nights can bring out the worst of us, those low-sales days, those loud music times with the songs we have learned to hate (that wagon wheel song just makes me cringe.) I just want to remind my readers how good you are. When you restore your energy you can be your best self. I have seen you each at your best and that is why I want you in my life. I want to support you in still trying, not letting your compassion flag, not getting discouraged. Remember how great it is to hear your friend laugh from all the way across the giant room, something you can only hear in the hour at the end when the customers are us. Remember how well you sleep when you have worked hard. Remember that pain does pass and the summer does come again, at least it always has.

You're here, alive and well, and that is something huge that not everyone gets to enjoy. Treasure that. Care for each other even when it is hard, because you know it is worth the effort. And take a day off, a real day off. Do as I say, not as I do, as my father used to say. Look at that shiny thing while I drag myself out to the shop to see what I really do need to order. We still have seven more days of selling, more than two weeks of trying to get it right. We can do it, and we can do it together.