LAST BUY: A breakup letter to my 20-year media paramour, Best Buy.

LAST BUY: A breakup letter to my 20-year media paramour, Best Buy.
By Louis Fowler

I still remember when Best Buy first came to Oklahoma City. It was the early-90s and my chubby middle school self was into British Invasion-era music pretty hardcore. My obsession with all things Beatles was reaching an embarrassing zenith, having just discovered that their Capitol releases, from album art to track-listings, were almost always different than that of their original UK Parlophone-released counterparts. I was scouring everywhere within my limited walking distance to find the recently released in America UK versions. It was adorably sad and, ultimately, sexually regressive. I would go throughout middle school with nary a squeeze of under-developed female titty.

Up until that point, most of my music purchases were made at the Target two blocks from my house, and they were of the cassette variety, having not fully saved up the $100 needed to purchase that CD stereo system I had my eye on in my dad's Fingerhut catalogs. And, while shopping at Target I discovered quite a few cool, seminal albums there, their selection was at best pathetic and always kinda pricey. I usually ended up sticking to “Nice Price” or “Pricebusters” tapes in the bin where they didn't even bother with those long plastic anti-theft devices. No one steals a “Nice Price” tape, right?

1992 comes around and the big buzz, at least among myself, is all about this new electronics store, Best Buy. Not only would they have smartly priced electronics, but apparently the lowest prices on cassettes, CDs and VHS tapes. And, good God Almighty, did they ever!

The first time I stepped in there, the week they opened, I believe, I felt like I was in my own personal wonderland. (Okay, I was 12 or 13—what did I know about real record stores? Cut me a break, jerk!) They had aisles of reasonably priced cassettes and, HOLY CRAP! They had the Beatles! They had their stuff on Parlophone! I had enough money to buy two tapes—REVOLVER and BEATLES FOR SALE! On cassette! My life as a consumer had changed forever, teaching me what the word “loyalty” is all about.

From that point on, I was a LOYAL customer. Every week, I would walk from NW 47th to NW 59th, I believe, across the busy expressway and underpasses, past the frontage roads and empty parking lots, often with my younger brother in tow. We'd trek up there most Sunday afternoons, spending hours looking around, even if we left with only a purchase of a Crystal Pepsi. Man, when I think of all the tapes I bought in that time period...tapes I still own somewhere around here: Bob Dylan-AS GOOD AS I BEEN TO YOU, Tom Petty-FULL MOON FEVER, Mick Jagger-WANDERING SPIRIT and, um, Sting-TEN SUMMONER'S TALES... Needless to say, everytime I got some cash, I'd buy a new tape from there. My CD player would be held off for another summer.

As I got older though, I began to explore past my neighborhood more often. I soon discovered records stores like the (sadly) defunct Sound Warehouse and CD Warehouse, and the more indie ones on OKC like Music Dimensions. Whenever there was a hard-to-find CD that was made to sound intriguing in trendy slacker-mags like PULSE, HUH? or RAYGUN, those would be the places I would go to first. The indies. They'd always have that stuff. But, if it was a new release that I knew EVERYONE and their adoptive mother would carry, and I wanted it at a low price, Best Buy was my first and only stop.

This LOYAL fandom of Best Buy has continued with me for a little under twenty years now. Twenty. Years. For two decades I have given this corporation my hard-earned and bitterly won money on a regular, damn-near weekly basis. I would meet up with friends there on Tuesdays for new release day. I would get up early on Sunday to be the first to see the circular and, then first in line to take advantage of the sales. It was my Black Friday camp-out store of choice. And, whenever anybody was going to get me a gift, I would ask them to just take me to Best Buy and let me go wild. I was that simple to please.

The past few years for the media collector slash obsessive have been especially sweet, as most Best Buys had a Circuit City right down the street from them and the two would routinely duel it out for entertainment supremacy, offering all types of deals, markdowns and exclusives. Best Buy had the real advantage though: if ever Circuit City did get the drop on them, BB had a brutally overpowering price-match guarantee. There was almost no reason to really ever step foot in Circuit City, except to plunder their corpse as the fetid store lay dying and foreclosed upon in their final days.

(For more on this boot-stealing of the dead, read “Circuit Breaker: The Final Days of Circuit City”.)

Because I felt like I had this personal connection with Best Buy, I turned a deaf-ear on all those cynics who decried that BB would change everything I loved about them now that they had no real competition. No way. They'd never do that to a LOYAL customer. Just take a look at my Reward Zone card, guys! BB will take care of me, nurture me and pat my bottom with baby powder whenever I got a little rash.

So...what's got two thumbs and believed that a corporation actually gave a damn about them like a total moron? ^ THIS GUY. ^

Like everything that I've ever loved in my life, Best Buy did change, and not for the better. Quite the opposite, actually. They started to raise their prices. Started to have less media sales. Started carrying less product. Started getting smug: “We know you got no other place to go, fat boy! You got no choice but to pay $29.99 for a Blu-Ray of STAR TREK! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” * crushes kitten's head *

I started going to their store less and less. Once a week turned into once every couple of weeks, then once a month, then only whenever a sale caught my eye. They changed their whole Reward Zone program. I'd either never get my $5 certificate in the mail or I'd look at my balance and see all my points gone. Points weren't rolling over anymore. Even worse, when I'd ask an employee about it, they not only didn't know...they didn't care. No one cared. My LOYALTY wasn't worth even a measly $5 certificate. And when you ain't worth five dollars, you ain't worth shit, son.

This finally came to a head the past week when, after a couple of movies I wanted that were listed as being available in the store on their website, weren't in stock. OK, fine. I'll just ask them to do one of those store-pickups that the kids talk so much about. It was more trouble than it was worth. A simple ask of whether or not I could have a couple of DVDs ordered and sent to the store for pick-up became a huge, embarrassing mess, quagmired in one roll of red tape after another. After ten or fifteen minutes of one employee after another staring blankly at a computer...I gave up. I was done. I said “Look, I appreciate the help, but I'll just get it off Amazon. Thanks though.”

And I walked through those electric-eye double-doors for the very last time.

I know exactly what my problem is: when I find a product or business I like, I'm too LOYAL. I'm a consumer wet-dream. But, now, they have to wake up and realize their pants are all sticky and need to hide them on the bottom of the hamper so mom doesn't find them. Loyalty isn't rewarded anymore, it's expected! No one cares about you and your purchase power! Get in line and buy, buy, buy, don't ask any questions!

Best Buy, we had a great run. But you're like the ex-girlfriend who I've lavished expensive gifts on, clearing out my bank account just to get one sweet drop of your sweet sweetness of, only to have you break up with me when a bigger, better deal comes along. You're a lying, cheating, manipulative bitch and I hope to compose a twelve-song album full of biting Elvis Costello-lite lyrics about the whole situation.

It's funny: more and more people that I talk to about Best Buy are feeling the exact same way. Most don't even bother going into stores anymore, not with Amazon.com right at their fingertips! And I don't blame them. I mean, if you are going to deal with cold, impersonal, robotic service, it might as well be with your own computer. And you might as well get the lowest price. And you might as well get it shipped to your house, no questions asked.

In this climate, businesses are failing left and right. You'd think that, because of that intense fear of losing everything they've ever worked for, stores like Best Buy would try harder to beat down the Internet behemoths that are quietly flaying them. You'd think they would try to offer that personal touch. You'd think...well, you'd think they'd value your LOYALTY.

So that takes me right back to the beginning. I've been wanting these new Beatles remasters for a while now. Keeping my eye out for a great price on the whole set. Amazon's got the complete Beatles stereo box set for $179.98, marked down from $258.98. And with free shipping. On the Amazon Marketplace, however, it's even cheaper at $130.00. Sorry, but to me, that's not just a better buy, that's the real best buy.

DAMAGED Goods: THE KFC DOUBLE-DOWN SANDWICH!

Why do people, when they hear about a new food product that might be outside the norm — especially of the fast food variety — they always have to do that fake, fraudulent gasp of disgust?

“Ugh...you're not really gonna eat that, are you?” they say as they hypocritically puff on their cigarette, but it's okay because they're American Spirits, right?

The latest victim of this “do as I say, don't do as I do” culinary condescension is the KFC “Double-Down” sandwich, a comically grotesque evolutionary marvel that replaces bread with fried chicken while simultaneously taking Jamie Oliver out back and raping him in the tool-shed. Preferably with a drumstick.

Alright. The Double-Down. Not only has lame, boring bread been replaced with original recipe fried chicken, the actual chicken part that would normally go in the middle has been replaced with multiple slices of Goddamn cheese and bacon, slathered in what I think is a mayonnaise-like product of some sort. It could be congealed fat for all I know.

And, yes, it's a good as it sounds.



It's a heavy, greasy, utterly mouth-watering novelty sandwich, like a McDLT with balls. It's truffles stuffed with caviar for the working class of America, and probably the greatest fast food reinvention since, well, I guess the KFC Famous Bowl. You guys are doing some fantastic work in those top secret labs, keep it up.

Look: you'd have to be a complete imbecile not to know that such a sandwich is bad for you. That's the whole point of it's existence! No one in their right mind is going to take a look at the Double-Down and think it's a good, nutritional, wholesome meal choice. This sandwich is a joke, something to laugh at and try once! Maybe twice, but only if it's two in the morning and you're coming down off shrooms. It's edible performance art meant to get a rise out of this nation of overprotective pussies!

OK, bloggers and Twitterers, we get it! If you eat a Double-Down every day for the next couple of days, weeks, months, YOU WILL DIE OF A HEART ATTACK! Maybe. The science isn't all the way in yet. But most people aren't realistically going to do that and the ones that would, well, if it wasn't a Double-Down, it would be a new Cheesy Volcano Gordita Wrap or a sackful of Quarter-Pounder Big Macs. Nothing you can say or do is gonna change that. Let them live their lives and let nature take it's course!

Besides: why do you give a fuck anymore? We got free health-care now! Let's rob this bitch for all it's worth! Yeeeeeee-haw!

* shoots six-shooters into the air, starts wheezing, falls asleep *

Try the Double-Down once. It's worth it. Get it out of your system by getting it into your system. It's a once in a lifetime event that needs to be tried only once, preferably in your short lifetime. If you feel bad about it, walk to the KFC and back. You could use the exercise anyway.