Surviving the Economy, Hallmark Style

When the manager of the Hallmark store where I work gathered all the employees for a meeting, I couldn't help thinking, Well, someone's fired.

Over the past several months, as the nation experienced the troubled economy, our store in Pennsylvania also suffered. Sales went down. Business ebbed in slowly during the week. As an employee of Hallmark, a company that could easily boast having a card for every occasion, a singular truth became increasingly evident: there was no card to fix this.

Sitting with my coworkers, I couldn't help but think of them as competitors during a tribal counsel on Survivor . The only difference was that there was no easy answer to who could be voted off the island. Our store had become a second home to me from high school to the present, and these coworkers another family.

As our manager began a speech about retail struggles in a weakened economy, it dawned on me that to that point the state of the economy had been little more than a distant rain cloud glistening on a far-off horizon. It hadn't soaked me yet. I had my own naïve way of "surviving" the economy. Instead of a $7.95 Japanese special for lunch, I "settled" for a $3.45 cheeseburger. I cut back-well, tried to cut back-on my spending, a definite hard task when you work in a Hallmark store that sells everything you could ever dream of. A recent college graduate, I easily skated by on loan grace periods and the security of a job I'd held since high school. Yet in the blink of an eye, the rain cloud hovered just above my umbrella-less head. Grace periods now over, I had more important things to worry about than sushi or ham sandwich.

The funny thing is, despite the broken economy and financial strains going around, being in a Hallmark store is still like finding a safe haven from a stressful world. Customers come in, and even if they spend less they seem to bask in the glow of sentimental cards, elaborately decorated stationary, and a virtual sea of plush toys. In light of the current economy, I'd discovered the familial disposition of a store like ours. Shoppers come and share their fears about job security, the status of their wallets, the events of their friends and families' lives that make things better or worse. The slogan goes, "When you care to send the very best," but in times like these it might as well read, "When you care to see the very best" in any situation. In an economy like this, it turns out a Hallmark store could be the next best thing to group therapy.

As it turns out, no one lost a job that day. Instead, the owner and store managers, realizing something had to be done to alleviate the pressure of a bad economy, simply cut our hours by a half hour per day. Bottom line: lose a little money, but keep your job. Not a bad deal, overall.

Still, no matter how much I make light of it, times are tough. I sometimes wonder how I'd get by if I didn't have this job, these coworkers, bosses who actually cared. It makes me so grateful that, as of yet, I haven't had to experience the answer to those questions. And my gratitude, in small ways, has made its way into my daily life. At least, I hope it has. I've been more generous with what I have, even if what I have isn't that much to begin with. I got this strong and strange conviction to not pass those people by who suddenly appear at the corner asking for money for something to eat. Though I've never just handed out money, I have had many interesting experiences in recent days sitting with men and women who haven't eaten in days. For some, it's been this way for years. For some, only months, and theirs are the most harrowing stories of all. Hallmark sentiments aside, it makes me all the more grateful for the securities I do have.

Not too long ago I walked past a man on the street who asked me to help him get something to eat. I took him with me to a pizza shop right up the street, ordered him a slice of pizza and a drink, and got ready to leave. As I turned to go, telling him I hoped he'd enjoy his meal, he said in more than mild surprise, "You're leaving?"

So I stayed. And as he ate, the man talked. He told me how he'd had a job last year, and now slept in a different place Downtown every night. He passed people he used to work with every day. He told me his age, and I must admit I doubted him, as he looked at least twice the number he gave me. After a while he grew quiet, finishing his food in silence as I sat, dumbfounded and speechless, waiting for him to either go on or tell me to get lost. Finally he crumbled his plate, sipped down the rest of his drink, and stood.

"Well," he said, looking toward the door, "it was nice to have met you. I'll see you on the flip side."

A few moments later we went our separate ways. I see him every once in a while when I leave work, but he's never asked me for money or food again. He just nods, maybe smiles, sometimes waves a little. But I doubt we'll ever share another moment like the one we shared in the pizza place again.

Yet each time I see this man, and so many others like him, I think of those last words he said to me: "I'll see you on the flip side." Print that on a Hallmark card. Any day could be the flip side for me, and I realize this with more gratitude. To think the economic struggles of our nation have meant only a half hour less work a day for me fills me with a gratitude I can barely express in words. Maybe someone in Hallmark's Creative Department could do a better job. But I return to my previous thought. Maybe now's not the time we think about sending a card when we care to send the very best. But maybe Hallmark, and people like that man I met, help us to remember to try and care to see the very best in any situation.

And maybe a Hallmark card won't fix this economic storm, but I don't doubt Hoops and YoYo could maybe-just maybe-turn these industrial and financial sprinkles to sparkles.