This past week, I went back to that massive trade show again. There are people who like that sort of thing, but I’m not one of them; indeed, I was thrilled to have to leave almost two days early to deal with a situation at work. Walking around, you can tell who hates it and who loves it. My buyer loves it, and I hate it. Certain vendors are bursting with warmth and genuine energy, and some look like they’ve been dragged behind a truck, and it doesn’t take much conversation to get beyond the plastered-on smile. This is “market season,” after all, and the same salespeople have probably just come from the show in Atlanta, dragging elaborate booths in their wake: unpack, set up, stand on your feet all day for a week, deconstruct, pack, ship, do it all again a few days later.
The food at the Javits Center is pretty good but small-bottle-of-water-three-dollars expensive. I did find myself in a cafeteria line one day in front of Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, who blessed my choice of lunch with her mere presence. She was wearing a scarf draped over one shoulder and looked like a culinary empress. That same lunch turned unpleasant later when I had to endure it next to a table full of Rush Limbo fanatics talking about how smart he is and how dumb the Democrats are. I also had the pleasure of listening to them dissect every Democratic presidential candidate. After the predictable takedown of Hillary, one of them said, “I don’t like Obama, but I don’t know why. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“You don’t like Oprah either,” reminded his companion.
“No, and I can’t put my finger on why,” the first one affirmed.*
Gee, I wonder. Could it be an aversion to names that begin with an O? I was strongly tempted to put my finger on something; instead I stood up and announced to my buyer that we had to switch tables immediately, but at that same moment, they finished their lunch and left, so I sat back down. The worst part was that all four of them had name badges that identified the name as their business as Wearable Whimsies.**
Good lord.
It’s hard enough for me to go to that show and see the acres of hideous, mindless crap that is destined to get shoveled down the throats of consumer America, but to then imply with the name of your business that this is somehow all in good fun when it is actively destroying the world is just too much.*** Sadly, there were many badges that read “Whimsy” or “Whimsies.” There was also a “Cartwheels and Cupcakes” and many other examples of nauseating capriciousness.
Anyway, I’m just glad to be home.
*This may not be an exact quote, but it was something very much along these lines.
** I checked and the links that come up from Googling “Wearable Whimsies,” at least in the first eleven pages of the search, are not the same as the group of people mentioned. It also seems to be the name of a fanciful book about making your own jewelry out of a toxic substance.
*** Note any parallels with Rush Limbo here? This stuff writes itself.
