And it had about the usual effect on me: Not so much.

 

All the rumors about a slowdown in spending (at least here in the US), though, and the possibility of a recession next year have me keeping an eye on sales.

 

Well, a closer eye than normal. Maybe. I’m usually pretty obsessive about sales, so I’m not sure I could look closer. But, for the sake of this post, let’s assume I have been. OK?

 

Anyone else out there pondering the possibilities of an economic slowdown? Most of us don’t sell necessities (like groceries, roofs, long johns or World of Warcraft). In fact, we sell what could loosely be described as “luxuries” (if you don’t squint too close).

 

For this post, “luxury” is defined as: Something which if people don’t buy the only ones who starve are us who make the said something.

 

Or to put it another way: We eat other people’s disposable income.

 

So what happens when the disposing stops? Or slows to a trickle?

 

How about now? Worried yet?

 

The last recession in the US was back in 2000-2001. My revenue from The Journal remained steady between those years. That’s what the economists call “flat” revenue. Flat revenue sucks. On the other hand, it beats “declining” revenue. And I achieved that non-negative result by doing … nothing special. I’m not saying that should be your plan, of course. And it’s certainly not my plan for 2008.

 

My plan (using another term somewhat loosely) is to focus on a major new update with an eye on expanding into new market niches that update opens up. And keep costs down.

 

Which, yeah, is a lot like me doing what I normally (try to) do.

 

Despite all of that, though, I’m actually pretty optimistic about 2008. Looking forward to it, even.

 

But I’ll still plot ways to make The Journal a necessity.

 

-David

 

I’ve made an effort the past few years to patronize Truly Local businesses when I can. That is, business that are owned and run locally.

 

Most of the major retail categories have been pretty much dominated by multinational chains. For groceries, home repair, hardware, electronics and similar products, it’s all but impossible to buy local any more. At least, such is the case in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Restaurants are about the only large retail arena where there is still a significant percentage of locals mixed in with the chains. But even those are disappearing under the wave of Abuellos, Carrabas, Red Robins, and more.

 

Which means that my Good Intentions are relegated to the fringes: haircuts, chimney sweeps, board games, D&D supplies, air conditioning–but not plumbing. (For plumbing I call Roto-Rooter. Love those guys. ) You get the idea.

 

Today, though, I’m scratching a local store off my list. The story goes thusly:

 

1. I went to the store to buy me a board game I’ve had my eye on. For my birthday (which isn’t for a few weeks yet). I go to this store once or twice a month. I’ve spent a few hundred dollars there over the past year, which is typical. Even if I could get something cheaper (and with free shipping and no sales tax) from Amazon, I’ve tried to pick it up the store.

 

2. They overcharged me for the game. $20 over the MSRP. Sure, stupid me for not knowing the price before I went to the store. $99.95 seemed reasonable, though I expected $79.95. I didn’t find out about the MSRP until I got home and did some more reading up on the game before opening it ($100 for a board game? “Damn, dude,” I told myself, “maybe you should do a bit more research before you commit to opening the box.”). I then *didn’t* open the game, because I figured I’d make sure I could get the difference back. Or, worst case, a full refund.

 

3. When I came back to ask for the $20 difference, they pointed to their sign which read “no cash refunds”. I didn’t even want a full refund. I just wanted the game for the same price I could’ve got it had I gone anywhere else.

 

4. Thwarted in my attempts to be a nice customer seeking a simple adjustment, I became an irritated one seeking a full refund. I hadn’t even *opened* the game. It was still in the same shrinkwrap, with the same overstated price tag attached. But, no, they wouldn’t take it back. “No cash refunds”, after all. That’s what the sign says. I attempted to educate the persons behind the counter about the reality of credit card chargebacks (“I’m getting my money back. The only question is how much it’s going to cost *you*.”), but made no headway.

 

5. So I left the game on their counter and walked out. And promptly called Amex. (Amex is a wonderful company for this sort of thing.)

 

I wouldn’t have run into this situation if I had purchased the game pretty much *anywhere* else. That is, anywhere except maybe at another Mom & Pop game store.

 

Because nowhere else would have added $20 to the MSRP. And anywhere else would have adjusted the cost when the discrepancy was pointed out (because giving back $20 beats giving back $100). And anywhere else would’ve taken back an intact unopened game that had been purchased the day before.

 

But not here.

 

Are brick-and-mortar stores just not aware of the whole Chargeback Thing? Or just the Mom & Pop game stores who make a living off the CCG addictions of non-confrontational, socially inept adolescents?

 

It’s no flipping wonder the Mom & Pop stores are dying off. They’re digging their own graves with stupid, outdated policies that don’t reflect the reality of the modern marketplace.

 

Gah. It’s enough to make me go buy a Grande Chai Latte from Starbucks, and then splash it on the game store’s stripmall windows, obscuring the out-of-date comic book standies and spelling out “Drink it Up Dumbass” in the dripping cream.

 

-David

 

People badgered me into it.

 

Seriously.

 

Before 2003 if people asked me about getting The Journal on CDROM, I told them:

 

1. Download The Journal’s installer from my Web page.

 

2. Burn the installer to a CDROM.

 

 

Almost nobody was satisfied with this response. So in 2003, I succumbed to the pressure and created a new payment option: For $14.95 extra (that is, added to the base price of $39.95), I would do the above 2 steps for you, and mail you the result.

 

And everyone was happy again.

 

I’ve enhanced the CDROM version of The Journal since then, of course. I’ve gone through a few different editions of the printed CD label. I learned how to use AutoRun.INF. I created a special auto-running “menu” program for the CDROM. I paid an artist to create a DVD case insert and started using DVD cases instead of simple CD jewel cases. I learned the joys of bubble-wrap shipping envelopes and international shipping (customs forms, yay!).

 

I also learned that if you ship a CDROM version of your software, you can bypass the Euro VAT. (In some cases.)

 

I’ve looked into some fulfillment services for CDROM’s, but I’ve not found one that allows the level of customization I want…and a decent price for the small levels of shipping units I get (I have been selling more this year, though). So once a week I spend a couple hours printing out DVD inserts, CD labels, and shipping labels. Then I burn the disks, stuff the disks into DVD cases, and stuff the cases into (the appropriately labeled) envelope. It’s like being a one-man assembly line. And then I go to the post office.

 

I really need to automate this. Someday I will.

 

Next up, according to more recent requests, is selling a printed version of the manual. I’ve been staving that one off for a while with a PDF file, but I know it’s coming…

 

-David