Saturdays were special then. They still are.
Today, but only on the occasional Saturday morning, I try selling a few birdhouses on my front lawn. To attract a wee bit of attention I've painted a sign that reads 'Please ask me about the SATURDAY SPECIALS'. I think it's maybe the best line I could have printed because, in my mind, Saturday still sounds like freedom, the day to goof around, shop, relax, think about Saturday night action and more. I'm certain many other people like Saturday as much as I do. So 'SATURDAY' is a very good word for my sign.
I also think folks like 'SPECIALS' almost as much. And together... why, together the two words are like a positive double whammy, a big dose of goodness, a sloppy helping of the best the world has to offer.
"What's on special today?" some passersby will ask with a grin. "What do you mean, The Saturday Special?" others will say while inspecting my wares.
It does my heart good to hear it. Sure, I like the interaction, the stories that people tell, discussions about birds and the spontaneous 'Q & A' concerning birdhouse dimensions, materials and longevity. Sure, I like turning a birdhouse around in my hands while explaining certain details ("If you take out these three screws the bottom drops out and you'll be able to clean out the house in a jiff") and the sense of accomplishment when one sells.
But most of all I like selling a Saturday Special - it's the ultimate win-win situation - seeing the look of customer satisfaction (because if I'm about anything it's high level customer satisfaction), then buying coffee on Monday morning with Saturday's money and feeling as if it's free, and as if I won some kind of first prize on the weekend.
SATURDAY SPECIALS. It's a good sign.
Photos by GH
Please click here to read tall boys all trimmed up