Retailism #8

One of the things I was reminded of during our recent Retail Study Tour is something we don’t talk about enough:

Retail is deeply personal

Think about what it takes to open a store, restaurant, coffee shop or other small business. Someone has an idea they can’t shake. They believe they can create something people will value. They may cash in their life savings, borrow money, sign a lease, leave a steady paycheck, or put their house and financial future on the line. And they do it because they believe in something.

They want to bring something to their community. They want to create an experience. They want to make people happy. They want to build a place where people gather, discover something new, or simply feel good walking through the door. In many ways, their business becomes an extension of who they are. That is the soul of a retailer.

And I think those of us who work in downtown development sometimes forget that. We see the business. We see the storefront. We see the vacancy rate, sales numbers, operating hours, signage, merchandising, parking and all the other things we are charged with thinking about.

But behind that storefront is a person. So when a retailer comes to us frustrated about parking, construction, an event that blocked their entrance, a policy change, or declining foot traffic, it can be easy to think: Here we go again, another retailer complaining.

What if we heard it differently? What if instead we thought: This person put their savings, their reputation, their time and a piece of themselves into this place—and right now they are scared. That doesn’t mean every complaint is justified. It doesn’t mean we can fix every problem. And it certainly doesn’t mean that every business decision a retailer makes is the right one. But it should change the way we listen.

Imagine putting your life savings into something you felt you were meant to do. Imagine working nights, weekends and holidays to make it successful. Imagine employing people who depend on you. And then imagine watching sales decline while circumstances outside your front door feel completely beyond your control. How would you want someone to respond to you?

That may be one of the most important lessons for those of us working to strengthen downtown retail districts. Before we dismiss the complaint, look for the vulnerability underneath it. Before we defend the policy, ask another question. Before we explain why something can’t be changed, make sure the retailer knows we heard them.

Because sometimes what sounds like a complaint is actually fear. Sometimes frustration comes from exhaustion. And sometimes the person standing in front of us isn’t simply protecting a business – they’re protecting a dream.

If we want thriving downtowns filled with independent businesses, we need people willing to take those risks. And if we want those people to stay, invest and grow, our job isn’t simply to support their businesses. It’s to understand the people—and the soul – the vulnerability it takes to open and operate a retail business.

A Retailism to remember: Never forget how personal retail is. Behind every independent storefront is a person who was brave enough to bet on an idea, a place and themselves. Listen with both your heart and your head.