Women are from Venus and men are from Mars. We get it. In another post, awhile back, I touched on the disconnect between what women really want (when it comes to their golf gear) and it got me thinking about food and shopping (sex even).
A friend and I were talking the other day about this Mars-Venus thing and how it’s reflected in the way we do just about everything, not just communicate. Like the difference between how women and men shop and how it’s akin to the way we eat: women graze and savor; men execute. Women might elect to eat dessert first, because it’s pretty and smells good, where men will take the algorithmic approach: assess, attack, finish, pay. To them a meal is a task that demands ritual observation and logical execution. To us, it’s a voyage of pleasure, something to excite the senses, to linger over and enjoy at leisure.
TRIPLE BYPASS PLEASE
So what do Venus and Mars have to do with golf pro shops and shopping (sex) you ask? Here’s what: man’s polo shirt has holes, man goes to pro shop, man buys (what the heck) two, and heads to the range. That kind of thing. Orderly and purposeful, spontaneity eschewed, and a breeze for any pro shop manager to buy and plan for. This fella won’t be inclined to search out the newest colors or check out the finishing details or go all lightheaded over a bit of contrasting stitching. It’s just a blasted shirt – the only reason he’s in your shop – so you can serve up last season’s leftovers and be certain he won’t give a sweet shank. For him, shopping is about as much fun as a triple bypass, so he wants to get in and get out, as fast as he can, take care of business and move on. (If you see a parallel here, you’re the one with the dirty mind.)
THE EEEEK FACTOR
For women, it’s just the opposite. Desire is aroused by the very act of shopping itself and is rarely satisfied by one great purchase. No. It must be contemplated, lingered over, every ounce of pleasure extracted and then, perhaps, repeated? Multiple times even. (Uhuh.) This foraging thing, compulsion even, is in our DNA and explains why so many pro shops are a major snooze-zone for us. They are pitched to the algorithmists (my new word) and not the foragers. There’s no romance, nothing to savor, no cache of marvelous finds, no chance discovery of a must-have. In short, no Eeeek Factor. And definitely no satisfaction.
NANCY HAS A NEW PAIR OF GOLF SHOES
So, I was having lunch with my good friend Nancy awhile back. We’d lost touch in one of those inexplicable ways that even we couldn’t figure out and hadn’t seen each other in over ten years. Facebook reconnected us and we met up for a lengthy lunch, multiple glasses of wine and the wanton intention of lingering over a meal – with dessert, egads. I was delighted to find out that she’d taken up golf since I’d seen her last (we were old tennis buddies back when our knees didn’t crack) and she was thrilled to learn that I was making golf shoes and gloves, because she couldn’t find anything she liked in her club pro shop, big surprise.
Being the practical, non-nonsense woman I know her to be, Nancy went to the pro shop owner at her club and asked him why he wasn’t carrying anything that she and her golf-gal-pals actually wanted to buy? Pithy reply his: he just didn’t sell enough women’s BLANK to justify carrying more women’s BLANK. (Thinking what I’m thinking?)
Well maybe if you had more BLANK and better BLANK and didn’t shove all the blinking BLANK to the unlit rear corner of your BLANKING shop, you’d have more BLANKING sales. Because here’s the thing: for us, shopping is sport. We never tire of the chase and go all tingly at the acquisition. That’s probably the one place we have a little Martian in us, so maybe you men can relate. Give us more BLANK to graze over and savor, thrill us, keep us guessing and coming back, and you’ll see the cash register light up. Multiple times even. (Read that however you like.)