One of the most memorable shopping experiences we had in Phoenix was at a store called La*st Cha*nce. Thanks to almost 34 years of training from my mom who has always been able to find a bargain, I have inherited the skill to sniff out an outlet, overstock or factory- second store with my eyes closed. Of course, Eli hates shopping and no matter how many times I try to explain to him that shopping is like therapy for me, he just can't believe anyone would enjoy endless hours of roaming various shopping venues without a end-goal in sight. If he needs a pair of shoes, he just goes to the mall, buys shoes and comes home. He doesn't enjoy the hunt and he certainly won't be going from store to store for more than an hour before he gives up and just goes to the bookstore to unwind from that grueling hour of shopping. While he appreciates my love for bargain shopping, he doesn't usually feel the call of a bargain like I do.
Like I said, it's in my DNA to scope out a sale.
So, anyway, back to The Biggest Bargain Center. We were driving down a busy street in the dark after we landed in Phoenix and I spotted this dimly lit sign, but I didn't see the actual store. I made a comment about the name, La*st Cha*nce, and mentioned that I wanted to come back sometime during our trip. I'd never heard of it, but the name was enticing. I'm not even sure Eli heard me because he tends to tune out shopping talk, no matter who's doing the talking.
So the next day we were exploring the neighborhood and we found ourselves back at this intersection. After a little bit of begging, I promised I would just run in and look around - I wouldn't be more than ten minutes. Eli came with me, only because it was no less than 115 degrees outside and our gigantic rental SUV didn't stay cool unless it was mobile. So his choices were to stay and melt into a puddle in the car, or come with me to avoid heat stroke. He trudged along behind me, muttering something about how ridiculous it was to fly halfway across the country to shop at a bargain basement store hidden under a very tired looking Mer*vyn's in a strip center that looks like every other corner of retail America.
Eli was in the middle of an exasperated eye roll as we stepped off the escalator into the outer lobby when I heard him say quietly, "are those 992's?!" He pushed me aside and almost broke into a run towards a table brimming with running shoes marked $29. His eyes got big as he started digging until he found two pairs in his size. He was ready to scoop up both pairs until he flipped one of them over to examine the sole and I heard him say, "these have been worn." So he flipped over the second pair and said, "gross, these have gum on the bottom." But he wasn't deterred. For shoes that normally run $130 a pair, he wasn't about to let a little ABC gum shift his focus.
At this point, we weren't sure what kind of store this was. It seemed like a cross between Goodwill, T*JM*axx and a Dumpster-diving extravaganza. Even I was wondering what we had stumbled into. Nonetheless, we headed inside to check it out. It was less than 30 seconds before Eli exclaimed, "this is a gold mine! I'll find you later. I'm going to the shoes," and darted off before I even could respond. Not something I had ever heard from my husband - not in the entire 15 years I've known him.
So I wandered into the shoes and handbags and it was then I realized what this store was. This was the last stop for all things returned to every Nord*strom in the country. Apparently the store's liberal return policy is what keeps this goldmine stocked with all the castoffs from customers who shop at the regular store. And this wasn't just one of many clearance centers for the retail giant. This was the only one ANYWHERE and we had managed to find it in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the nation. How's that for my bargain hunting ability?! They had $400 pairs of shoes for $20. $300 purses for less than $40. $3,000 men's suits for $100. I was in heaven, not only because the bargains were making me dizzy, but because Eli was just as busy shopping as I was and he wasn't giving me the evil eye to wrap it up because we had other places to go.
This place was packed with people who made the early birds who show up at garage sales look pathetically inept at their bargain hunting finesse. I guess that's why the good employees post these rules at the front of the store so shoppers don't hurt anyone when the gates go up at opening time and this happens. These people were stalkers and we quickly figured out that if you put something down, it would get swept up behind you before you could take a second breath. The employees trying to hang the Donna Ka*ran and Michael Ko*rs handbags couldn't get them out of the giant bin before women would scoop them up and start inspecting them for flaws. Pen marks seemed to be okay, missing straps were not. Even the biggest bargain hunters have their standards, I suppose. Shoppers had to be selective in their choices, as the store limits purchases to 4 items per customer, per day. Probably to fend off the people who manage to bring in six figures with an Ebay business, but judging by the crowd in the store, many have managed to figure out a way to circumvent the system.
We whittled away over an hour in the tiny store and managed to buy just three items, but we hadn't even stepped onto the disappearing escalator heading back up to the parking lot before Eli said with wide eyes, "I'm coming back here next week and I'm bringing an extra bag!"
Maybe I'll convert him to a shopper yet.
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