Hub Bicycle is opening in Febuary 1st, looks like they are going to be specializing in repairs and parts, not bikes. Should be fun to check them out. Their site, their blog. I may be wrong, but this might be the only female owned bike shop in the area. I wish them the best of luck!
Chic Cyclists even caught them putting up the sign!
It is always nice when new bike shop opens in town. Especially one as nice looking as Superb. I have been following it’s progress for a while now and have been very impressed with what they have been doing with the space, and with the product line. If you want some fancy bike bling…look no further. They are having a big ole grand opening Friday, October 23rd. Stop by the store to check out the amazing bikes, the sweet gear, food drinks, a “hot bike contest” with prizes and much more! The cd they send me had all sorts of fun pictures on it, I have selected the most relevant below.
Press release below.
Superb is a concept bicycle boutique poised to supply the growing Boston cycling community with excellence in service and products. A bicycle boutique focused on new & classic road, track, and urban cycling; Superb is a full service shop offering repairs and sales in an environment designed to stylize bicycle shopping. Expanding on the shop’s original 1900’s motif, the retail store is a marriage of Victorian aesthetic and minimalist design. By Taking inspiration from the curving forms of a Velodrome, the design of the shop blends the dynamics of cycling to surfaces that highlight the uniqueness of the product. As the need for alternative methods of transport become an ever-growing reality, Superb responds to the consumer’s desire and simple ways to get around town, while offering tailored components and frames to fit individual personalities. We live in a world where we define ourselves by what we wear, what we use, and today, also by what we ride.
Located in the Fenway area, we are pleased to invite you to our grand opening Friday, October 23rd for a chance to meet the artists, designers, and minds behind Boston’s latest outpost of high design and retail experience. Join us as we celebrate Superb’s opening for a night of interaction with Boston’s cycling community. Food and Drinks will be served while Boston’s top DJ’s provide the soundtrack to the event. If you want to show off your ride, the “Hot Bike contest” registration starts
@ 9pm. Celebrity Judging @ 10:30pm for awesome store giveaways.
Superb Bicycle: Provisions for Cycling Address: 842 Beacon Street Boston 02215
Store Hours: Monday-Saturday 11am-7pm, Sunday 12-6pm Grand Opening Party: Friday, October 23rd 8pm-11pm Visit our website for more info on the shop and what we do: www.superbbicycle.com e-mail any questions to jason@superbbicycle.com or call the shop: 617.236.0752
Hope to see you there!!!
more pictures below.
I’m back on regular staff at the bike shop, and last weekend I weathered the first big spring sale. As a not particularly successful salesperson, I nevertheless did a bit better than average. I sure was tired out afterwards. I have noticed that I eat nothing but crap when I am at the shop – a tendency continued this weekend when the Specialized rep brought us a bunch of cupcake-frosted muffins and the Trek rep brought hot dogs.
I am surrounded by oodles of different kinds of bikes at the shop – mountain bike with no suspension, mountain bike with front suspension, mountain bike with dual suspension, each of those with disc brakes, each of those in women’s design, 29er, steel 29er; plain hybrid, hybrid with front suspension, hybrid with disc brakes, hybrid with 3-, 8-, or 9-speed internal hub, each of those in women’s design, cyclocross bike, cyclocross bike with disc brakes, kind of a cyclocross bike that’s really a hybrid, kind of a cyclocross bike that’s really a hybrid with disc brakes, flat bar road bike, flat bar road bike with disc brakes, each of those in women’s design; comfort road bike with some carbon, comfort road bike with more carbon, comfort road bike in all carbon, each of those in women’s design; road bike from this company with these components in that material, road bike from that company with those components in the other material, women’s versions of every permutation thereof; tri bikes; single speeds; touring bikes… On, on, on, all the way to custom bikes.
I often find myself wishing that we really only sold something like five different bikes at the bike shop, in various different sizes. We really don’t need to have nearly so many options. “How is this one different?” is a question I constantly have to try to answer, though the response really is “They’re not very different.” Different components, different geometry, different color, different design, different use – if people had fewer options, would it be easier to choose? Folks come in and say “I want something like a mountain bike that’s not a mountain bike.” Do they really need to get a road-bike designed “hybrid” bike with disc brakes, 700cc wheels, and 32mm knobby tires? Couldn’t we just offer them a ‘cross bike? Same thing when they ask for a touring bike? The Trek Portland, for example – what is that? Not a road bike, not a ‘cross bike, not a touring bike. Not a bike I ever show anyone.
Why not make it simple? We can sell a mountain bike (26in wheels, knobby tires) – I guess I would consent to front suspension, full suspension, 29er, and downhill as options. Then hybrid bikes – one comfort, one commuter. A ‘cross bike, of course. Road bikes would consist of short top tube models and long top tube models – none of this women’s design nonsense. If you want a “comfort” road bike, get a ‘cross bike and install racing wheels. One tri bike model, one single speed variety (and they always come with brakes).
But of course a bike shop only selling a few bikes would look like one of those liquor stores in states where hard liquor sales are heavily regulated, like the ABC stores in Virginia or their equivalent in Washington State (the only ones I’ve visited). Brightly lit, nearly bare shelves, and with a distinctly Soviet feel. Makes you feel like a criminal just for stepping inside the door.
Democratic ideals lead to way too many kinds of bikes. And cars. And toothpaste. I certainly don’t have just one bike myself, so I can hardly criticize the options.
Lately, I’ve been trying to sell items on eBay for the bike shop where I work. It has been going well enough for small items like winter shoes, and I’ve even sold a couple of out-of-date trainers. I really made myself worthwhile by selling a pair of four-figure-priced carbon wheels, but I have been unable to shift a complete bike.
Perhaps it’s a measure of the items I’m listing. First I tried to sell several full-suspension bikes that were – drum roll – nearly or more than ten years old. If one thing has improved in bicycle technology, it’s rear suspension. But there are collectors for nearly everything, why not these bikes too? I did field a lot of questions from potential buyers, but none of the bikes sold. I reduced the price and re-listed them several times, but still no go. Even more recently I’ve been listing recumbents, and wow, do people have a lot of fussy questions about those. A LOT of questions.
In both cases, a very annoying tendency has become noticeable in my imaginary client base. Namely, people ask me to sell them the bike at a price under the one I have listed, off-line. “$XX is too much to pay for a bike sight-unseen.” Fine, then don’t bid. This isn’t a Turkish rug bazaar; I’m not going to haggle with you. Don’t want it? Don’t buy it. But my correspondent continues on: “But I’d buy it from you for [some insultingly small percentage of my list price].”
It’s such a relief to me to have a clear-eyed customer notice that I listed a bike at a price slightly more than free (and slightly less than the cost of all the parts on the bike, had we stripped the frame and sold it piece by piece). How could I help but cancel my auction and immediately sell said bike to this delightful customer, who usually phrases this offer with many misspellings or ALL CAPS, but who has divinely recognized the true value of my sale, and offered to buy it in a venue that doesn’t offer any seller protection?
How aggravating. Insult the salesperson, then offer to take their junk off their hands, in a potentially dubious way. Does that actually work for anyone?
I have, however, managed to get one man into the shop to buy a recumbent at a price we agreed upon through eBay-based emails. And it looks like I may – gasp! – be able to sell the holy grail of bicycle absurdities, a tandem recumbent, via the same route. If I can get that tandem recumbent out of the store, I hope to be honored as a hero. It’s unlikely, but a girl can dream.
Check out these cool classes coming up at Ferris Wheels.
—
Bike Repair Classes
every Thursday night thru March.
Feb 19- Flats! Absolutely everything you’d ever want to know about
flat tires and fixing them. Hands-on class, $30.
Feb 26- Achy-brakey Bike Fixing various brake issues and learning about
different kinds of brakes. Hands-on class, $30.
Mar 5- Gear Repair Demystifying those derailers, ajusting your gears.
Hands-on class, $30.
Mar. 12 Wearing on your Bearings? Learn what to do when you hear that
creaky-crunchy hub or feel that loosey-goosey bottom bracket. Hands-on
class, $30.
Mar. 19 Well Spoken. In-depth explanation and opportunity to practice
spoke replacement and wheel truing. Hands-on class, $30.
Basic classes are $5 each; hands-on classes are $30. Preregistration
required for only the hands-on classes. Register for 4 hands-on classes
and get the fifth class FREE.
To register or for more information, call Ferris Wheels Bike Shop at (617)
524-BIKE or visit the shop at 66 South St., Jamaica Plain.
FERRISWHEELSBIKESHOP.COM
Going back to the yoga class may have good benefits, in that it will help me be less annoyed at customers. After a guy came into the shop on Wednesday, said he knew nothing about road bikes, tried a few, asked to try something more expensive, and then instantly bought the $3,999 bike, I thought that I probably just don’t understand other people, and I should be nicer about it. A few cases in point, as referring to my last posting:
1) The guy wants a Trek Madone 6.9, and better yet he wants a 2009 model? With the $2,000 paint job? Who cares! You can afford it, get whatever you want, so long as you’re not failing to pay child support or wiring the bike up to a trainer in the basement and forcing hired help to ride all day long in order to generate electricity for your outdoor gazebo.
2) You want to buy a Madone without trying a single other bike, just because it’s the most expensive and it will make an impression in the Cat. 5 peloton? Fine. Let’s just hope you don’t crash it. Better yet, crash it and then come buy a Specialized. Not that I like Specialized either.
3) You think buying a carbon bike will make you faster? Why, it will! So will losing ten pounds. You want it, you can have it.
I need to stop judging people because they want to buy things that I don’t think that they need. If I had my way, there would be only a few models of any kind of bike available in the bike shop, since there are so many items in there that I don’t think anyone could possibly need. Need, want, different things.
And now I will go ride my custom cyclocross frame that I didn’t need to buy because I don’t race and I don’t even ride it all that much and I am not even that good a cyclist.
1) The other day, I fielded some questions from a normal, non-cyclist-looking guy asking for Trek Madone 6.9 with Sram Red. That’s a $6,999 ticket at my shop, perhaps more with the components. If you’re going to spend that much on a bike, why not get something really interesting, or go custom, instead of getting an off-the-shelf?
Apparently BikeSnobNYC was on something of the same wavelength today, so I am going to quote from his posting verbatim:
“This is a truly impressive price point, especially considering how unlikely it is that anybody who would pay full MSRP for this bike might actually be able to use it to its full potential. If you’re that competitive on the road chances are you’re either fully sponsored or you’re one of those ‘full-time’ bike racers who shops exclusively via mail order, couch surfs instead of paying rent, and does some coaching on the side in order to pay for registration fees and gas.”
2) Last week I had the misfortune of answering a phone call query from a fellow who seemed to be calling with his cell phone set on speaker in his car; he had just that level of distraction, background noise, and entitled expectation in his tone, as if I were his butler taking the dinner order (his British accent didn’t mitigate his dismissiveness much). He too was seeking a Madone 6.9 to test ride. “We also have some other bikes in a similar price range you might like to see, like Time or Orbea or Cervelo…” I said. “No, we’re already settled on the brand,” he replied. Before test-riding anything? Does he think he’ll be “upsold” if he doesn’t know exactly what he wants before coming in?
On one hand, I do think it’s a hideous waste of time for people seeking to buy a big ticket bike to spend hours and hours, day after day, test riding bicycle after bicycle. For all intents and purposes, if the customer were forced to choose just one bike without test riding it, if it were the right size, it would probably work fine, even if it wasn’t ideal in all circumstances. But test riding in order to determine fit and comfort are much better than insisting on a particular brand.
So why the Madone? “I did some races this year, and I plan to do a full schedule next year. The Cat 1s told me about the Madone …” Why do I just not think of a Madone as bike for the local crits? Especially for a regional Cat 4 or whatever this guy ranks. It just seems to be too expensive for racing with other unskilled dorks, as the threat of crashing is substantial, and if you break your bike but you’re not a pro, there’s just not another one sitting on the team car. How about a nice $1,800 Specialized? Perhaps I just don’t like Trek.
3) Yesterday I chatted with a tall gentleman who epitomized about a half-dozen of my least favorite actions. First, when I walked up, he was flicking the frame with his fingernail. WHO is out there telling hordes of people that pinging the frame is the correct way to ascertain what material it is made of, and what’s more to appear knowledgeable? The more flicking I see, usually the less aware the customer.
We got to talking about what kinds of bikes he rides at present – a variety of 70s and 80s steel-framed obscurities, the precise model number and year he elaborated to me in exquisite detail. When I ask “What kind of bike are you riding now?” I generally want to know if you are riding a road or mountain bike, or no bike at all. I don’t care if it’s “the
It turned out, also influenced by his friends, that this guy wanted to know “what I think of carbon” because his buddies told him he’d lose six minutes in the Mt. Washington Hill Climb if he switches to carbon. Hm, I’m seriously not impressed by your foolish forays up a mountain, just like I don’t care about the second Madone fellow having done a couple races. What does impress me? The Aer Lingus pilot who visits the shop when he’s in town, who can take his bike anywhere he goes for free! And he does!
Lastly, this gentleman was about 6’6” – and I’m 5’3” on a good day. I hear well, so it doesn’t usually present a problem that he and I are speaking in completely different atmospheric layers. But he was just plain whispering up there in the stratosphere. Soft spoken is great, but inaudible? Good thing I’m decent at reading lips, or imagining what the next foolish question might be.
To summarize: I dislike when people insist that they want to buy the most expensive bike available, since I believe, as BikeSnob would put it, that they need “a more realistic perspective on the relationship between their needs and their abilities.” I disapprove when people claim to have “picked the brand” before test riding a single bike. I am irritated when people flick the bike frame in a misguided attempt to think of something to do with their hands while looking at bikes. I do not appreciate being told excruciating detail of one’s current or past bike; chances are I am not familiar with the specific model, but mostly I don’t care. Lastly, don’t whisper. But also don’t shout.
It’s such a razor’s edge, shopping for a bike, isn’t it?
I was at the shop today when I spotted a customer riding a bike through the alleys of display bikes and between clothing racks. This is a big no-no. The clothing people yell at me if I even walk a bike through that area, wanting to avoid getting any grease on sale items. And as for the bicycle sales floor, there are a lot of bikes out there that cost a lot of money. We don’t want some jackass knocking them all over or falling over them or creating general havoc. A bike shop is not a place to do a test ride; that happens outside on the road. We’re not set up like a velodrome.
Having chatted beforehand with this fellow to check if he needed any help, I had found him to be a laid-back seeming fellow, so I didn’t want to scold him. I approached.
“Hey,” I said, “I’m sorry to be a killjoy, but we’d rather you not ride inside the shop.”
“Oh,” he said. “There isn’t a sign.”
“Of course not,” I muttered, “Why should there be a sign telling you NOT to do something stupid like ride a bike inside the shop?”
Honestly, people do the stupidest shit all day long. We have all kinds of signs telling people who to do and what not to do (do not wear underwear under bike shorts; do head to the front counter to make purchases) and they are all generally ignored. Why on earth would we put a sign to tell people to NOT do something that seems so obvious?
I am creating a running list of things that people do at the shop which I dislike. There are so many, and yet they are so pedantic that I almost don’t dare collect them in writing. However, today when a customer tried to attract my attention by shouting “yoo hoo” at my turned back – that is definitely on the list.
Is it the bike shop, or the people who come to shop there? Lately, there seems to be a line of stupid people collecting outside the door, waiting to come in and ask dumb questions.
I think it’s very possible that I was more generous and willing to help when I first started working at the shop in April. Now I feel like people should really THINK a little bit before they ask such idiotic questions, because they are really scaring me with their lack of rational thought.
I am probably being judgmental. I have probably become one of those bike shop employees that customers hate because I secretly roll my eyes all the time when they come in and say things like “I just want a bike. I don’t want to ride the Tour de France.” DUH!
I always make a point of trying to explain that there is a wide range of bikes available for all kinds of uses, even in the “just a bike” department there are a lot of options. And of course you’re not going to be riding in the Tour de France, why would you even say something like that?
It’s like if I went to a shoe shop and wanted to buy some jogging shoes and said “I just want to run, I’m not going to the Olympics or anything.” Why would the person selling shoes even think that I would be? Because I [don't] look so thin and ripped and ready to go into competition? Just ask for shoes! Nothing fancy! It’s an insult to the marathoners / Tour de France riders to even suggest that there is any possibility that you are in the same universe as them!
And what’s more, Tour de France riders and Olympic marathoners don’t just walk into the nearest shoe or bike shop and ask for help! They know what they want, which is what a novice runner or rider does not. Which is why it goes without saying that if you are asking for help looking for a bike (or shoes) that you are *not* an elite rider / runner. But somehow, saying “I just want a bike, I don’t want to ride the Tour de France” comes off as smug, a rejection of all that fancy-pants elite crap, but it’s phrased in a way that suggests that we should both agree that stuff is so stupid, right? It’s like they’re vaguely insulting me for actually being knowing or being interested in anything beyond “just a bike.”
See. I am judgmental and mean. I’ve become like my Latin teachers in grad school. I took an intensive Latin class that met six times a week (twice on Monday), and the workload nearly killed me. Additionally, I was always kind of furious at my teachers (two of them, who traded off classes – which the students didn’t get to!) because I felt like they didn’t remember what it was like to not know Latin, so they were impatient and unclear in their explanations.
I never wanted to be that. But at the same time, I don’t want to be the person who has to explain that a bike lock should go through a solid part of the frame, don’t just lock up the wheel, because see that quick release on the wheel? Someone will take your bike and leave the wheel. And yes, I don’t think it’s a really good idea to leave your bike on your front porch even if it is locked to the floorboards, because those are wood and someone could saw through them, so if you are worried about your $3,000 bike, then you really need to bring it inside.
Argh!
He was a customer at my bike shop. Did he buy anything? I don’t know. I know he was known to be difficult.
Read all about him in this fascinating New York Times article.
I love artisanal bicycle caps. They don’t always suit me, but I always give them a try. Imagine my delight when my own hosting site gave birth to an interesting hat-making project in the hands of s-class, who has been making caps and giving them away anonymously around Boston.
Thinking that I would never, ever stumble on one of these hats, I emailed s-class to ask how I could get one without stalking him/her. In response, s-class kindly sent a hat to my place of work, where of course no one knows me as “What I Think” so the package was well pawed-over by the time I got to it – but thankfully no one ran off with the contents! That hat was too small for me; I had intended to send my head measurements to the hatmaker when I received another package at work this Friday! That was perfect timing to cheer me up in advance of the aforementioned misery of no-sales-tax weekend.
The result: the second hat fits very nicely, thanks very much to my unknown benefactor! On Saturday a customer complimented me on my “jockey hat”; I explained that jockeys wear colorful helmets, but that my hat was a cycling cap. One of my co-workers decided the hat’s pattern would make me look particularly stylish while sitting on some Swedish furniture. Too bad I don’t have any.
Thank you, s-class!
It nearly killed me.
The shop was flooded with people who wanted to save $15 on a bike. Though I guess the woman who bought the $2399 Colnago (plus the $1600 Ultegra build kit) probably got a little better deal. On the pleasanter side, I did get to help two couples that I know, and I hope I did them justice, but mostly it was just madness.
My head hurts, my stomach hurts, my feet hurt, and I feel kind of bad about myself. I don’t really want to go back to the shop for awhile. Too bad I supposedly have to co-lead a ride from there tomorrow at 7am.
Jolly.
I picked up the phone yesterday and engaged myself in the most difficult sale I have yet encountered. The gentleman on the other end wanted to buy a bike that we carry, namely the Trek Portland. It’s a bike which I frankly think is a bit odd, what with the drop bars, weirdly straight carbon fork, and disk wheels. Is it a road bike? Is it a touring bike? Is it a cyclocross bike? None of the above.
As it turned out, my customer wanted to switch out the cranks from a triple chainring to a compact double. I had ask my superiors if that was possible, seeking the answer to many questions. What crank does the bike currently have? (Shimano 105) Do we sell that crank independently? (Yes. If not, there’s no value to us to switch out the equipment and the customer would have to buy another crankset.) Do we carry the items he wants to swap in? (Yes.) Is there a cost gap? (No.)
Finding that all took me about an hour, since I had customers at the same time, in person and in the shop, but meanwhile my customer had already called me back. I’m working on it, jeez! Then he reveals that he actually lives in Virginia, so he wants to have the bike shipped there. In the past I’ve been able to waive the bike boxing fee because the customer won’t be able to take advantage of the 90 day free tuneup, so I tell the guy that I hope I can get that for him. Then comes the question of the deposit.
“The interests of domestic tranquility,” he says, are the reason that this customer wants to pay for the bike with a cashiers check. Oooohhh-kay. I have to confirm whether we will accept that form of payment, as well as do all the work and ship the bike. (Yes.) But what about a deposit? He says he will call back the next day with a credit card to pay for that.
This morning my fellow called with his credit card. I took down his info, including the name of the shop (a Trek dealer, mind you) to which he wants to have the bike sent. I tell him I will have to check on the shipping charges. My boss tells me that we will charge a boxing fee after all, and shipping may cost in the order of $25. More calls. I tell my customer about the boxing fee, explain about the shipping charges, and that we may have to finalize that later when it comes time to ship, since I don’t have an exact quote. We add up the price of the bike, the price of the boxing, and the price of the shipping; that will be the value of the cashiers check that he will send to us. When it arrives, we will do the work and ship the bike.
He wants an email with a final quote. I don’t have a shop email account, so I ask a more senior salesperson to email the customer the figures I have quoted him. Within an hour he calls back. “Why weren’t you straight with me about the costs?” he asks. “If you have been straight with me about the cost, it would be okay, but …” He claims he has been quoted all kinds of labor fees and charges we hadn’t discussed.
What? I check to find out what was emailed to him. He was quoted the cost of the bike, the cost of the boxing, and the cost of shipping. The shipping price was higher than I had quoted, by about $20. Bummer, he lives several states away. “You told me I could get it boxed for free,” he says. Wrong. I told him I would try to get it boxed for free but that my boss told me that wasn’t possible. What do you want me to do, pay for it myself? Forget it. “You didn’t tell me about that cost.” Yes I did.
“Are there going to be any other hidden costs?” he asks. Now you’re just insulting me. None of this was hidden. This man is getting a bike – it’s a 2007 model, so it’s on sale – we are swapping out the cranks at no cost, not even for the labor involved – and we will box and ship it to him for under $100.
The guy made it plain to me that he had “read a lot of good things” about the shop on Roadbikereview.com. With the deep sound of displeasure in his voice at the end of the call, I expect he’ll get right back on that forum to announce that a certain young woman who works at a certain shop in Boston is a sucky salesperson. And you know what? I sure am flawed – especially when it comes to doing a complex sale over the phone, involving lots of questions to my superiors about cost of equipment and labor, particularly when we have to make special dispensations for unusual payment.
Give me a frikkin’ break. I bent over backwards for this fellow and then he reams me with “are there going to be any more hidden costs?” I’m sooooooooooo glad I worked so hard on that sale, just to get shit at the end of it.
Monday, Thursday, Friday, no sales. Worried I had already run through my mojo.
Saturday, a rainy day, that meant it would be a quieter one, right? I sold one Specialized Globe ($339.99), one Lemond Tourmalet ($1,149.99), one Trek Soho S ($499.99), and one Trek 7.2FX ($439.99).
Didn’t go to lunch until 4:45. Shop closed at 6pm. Quiet day? Yeah, right.
So far it looks like this bike shop thing is going okay. The first day I was left to fend for myself on the sales floor, I feared that I might stand in the middle of the room, unable to talk to anyone, unwilling to approach anyone, completely paralyzed. A bit like it felt when I started tenth grade at a new high school, back in the day. Then, I spent about nine months waiting patiently for the day to end, or for death to take me, whichever came first.
However, the first day went okay. A man walked in and bought a Specialized Tarmac ($1,799.99). Then, I sold a Trek SU 1.0 ($449.99) and a Specialized Globe ($399.99). My day finished off with a nice woman who decided to purchase an Orbea Onix Dama ($2,499.99). Shocking!
Since then, I’ve sent people out the door another Dolce, two of the Specialized Crossroads Sport ($349.99), one each of the Specialized Dolce Comp ($1,499.99), Trek 7100 ($359.99), Cannondale Adventure 5 ($369.99), and a LeMond Women’s Tourmalet ($1,149.99). I am just a tiny bit pleased with myself. However, I’m not that good; just last night one young man topped that entire pile by selling a game woman a Cervelo R3 with Sram Red components, which probably crossed the line at the $6,000 mark.
However, I’m riding my bike less because I’m completely exhausted! All that talking to people wears me out. I’m sure I’ll adjust soon enough, but for the moment it’s an interesting challenge. Especially when my former employer came in last night to MC an event with a couple of pro racers from the CSC team!
That’s my new identity.
I found part-time employment in a local bike shop chain. I have noted before that I live alone and I work at home, and therefore my human contact quotient can be quite low. It finally reached a point that I feared I would go crazy if I didn’t have some kind of scheduled option for regular conversation with real people. So I got a part-time job in order to do that. And oh yeah, I’ll get to talk to people about bikes all day.
I have never worked retail before. I have not managed to memorize what bikes the shop carries, how they are different, or their prices yet. I don’t even know everybody’s name. I basically don’t know what I’m doing. And yet, I sold four bikes on Saturday, including a $2,500 Orbea. I was seriously afraid that I wouldn’t be able to sell anything, that I would suddenly find myself paralyzed on the sales floor, unable to approach anyone. That didn’t happen. Somewhere deep inside there is a very shy teenager who – thankfully – no longer runs the whole system.
Meanwhile, some of my fellow salespeople are actually teenagers themselves. Freaky.