So...how are things? I'm good. I made a roast the other night. It came out well. Not well as in "well done," but well as in "good." It was actually medium rare. Wasn't sure about the grammar on that one.
OK, OK, we're both thinking it, so I'll just throw it out there: this is awkward. We haven't seen each other in a while, and when we do, it's not the same. To be honest, yeah, it was something you did. You've changed. I mean, I used to see you almost every day. I'd buy a thing or two, often vintage and/or designer, and then I'd wear it the next day and get tons of compliments and brag incessantly that I got it at Goodwill for two dollars. I once found a Moschino Cheap and Chic dress that you let me have for five bucks. FIVE BUCKS. I bought it and wore it even though it was so small that it squeezed my stomach fat into my neck. Life was sweet.
Life's not sweet anymore. Do you want to know why, 'will? Because you jacked up your prices through the damn roof. And not only that, but you've started pricing designer items way higher than regular items. Maybe I can still find a pair of Target heels for a few dollars, but those rad Michael Kors flats on the shelf next to them? Forty to fifty bucks, no matter the wear and tear.
This would be totally cool if you were a hip vintage boutique, but come on, you're Goodwill. I once saw a woman squat and pee in your housewares aisle. Selling fifty dollar shoes in that kind of atmosphere just doesn't feel right.
See, you used to be about equality. Diligent shoppers could push aside a basic jacket to reveal a pristine DKNY peacoat, and both would have the same glorious, one-digit price tag. There were thrilling finds to be had! Gems to uncover! Bargains galore! Nowadays, even the basic jacket is ten or fifteen bucks, and the designer prices...it's too upsetting to discuss. And think about it--if a middle class shopaholic like myself can barely afford you, what about the people who shop at Goodwill not because they want to, but because they have to? You've lost sight of your purpose.
You once told me that your name was an old Celtic word meaning "good will." Think about that, my friend.
Much more of this, and I'll be forced to find comfort in the arms of your slow, unattractive brother, the Goodwill outlet. I guess I could get used to the pay-by-the-pound thing; actually, I kind of wish Nordstrom did things that way. But digging around in those bins is shit. Like, literally. It smells like poop.
Please don't make me do it.