Ashuttered shop, closed down and boarded up due to poor business, is one of life’s saddest images. Almost as desolate a scene is a shop, a stall, a store, a kiosk — any unit of small commerce which depends on a steady stream of customers for the survival of entrepreneur and employees — hardly being patronized due to competition, poor location and promotion, changing tastes and spending habits, or simple hard times.
I grew up, quite literally, in the old public market of Baguio, and I witnessed the hardships that came with running a “small-time” business which depended on narrow profit margins and required extreme family thrift and the simplest of lifestyles in order to survive. We were among the many families from several barrios in the province of Batangas who came up all the way to the highlands of Benguet in the late 1940s in search of stable livelihood, which was practically non-existent in the aftermath of the Second World War.
For almost three years, many of the Batangueño families who rented stalls from City Hall actually lived and raised families in those tiny spaces of a few square meters that were stores by day and dwellings by night. The individual wood-and-galvanized iron stalls later gave way to a more permanent marketplace of concrete, stone and asbestos, and us shopkeepers had no choice but to move out and rent the most affordable apartments available in the city. Some families managed to get good spots through drawing lots in the new market, which is why they prospered over the years. Those with poorly located stalls suffered years of poor business, and the most dreadful and dreaded word to be heard during those lean times, uttered with a head shake, was “zero,” or no sale for the day.
Many years after that difficult period in our past, I still have a soft spot for the small shopkeepers of Baguio — and everywhere else — who have to keep up a daily struggle to sell their goods, to more than break even and have enough left with which to pay their tiny sales force, to be able to replenish their stocks, and to send their children to school.
The Ghosts of Commerce Past
I feel not only for the shopkeepers, but also for their employees and the latter’s families. You would think that at Christmastime, the glad tidings of a season increasingly identified with fevered, compulsive consumption would raise, like the rising tide, all boats of commerce. Well, this commercial plaza near Vito Cruz and Harrison was, in the run-up to Christmas, more like an ancient depopulated bazaar that had seen better times. I walked across its enormous hall which was less than half-filled with tiangge concessions. The thousands of shoppers of days gone by were a distant memory, the new hordes of buyers being elsewhere, making a beeline for the newer, better lighted supermalls throughout the city.
The plaza’s dark empty corners were leaking water from overhead pipes, several shops on the second floor had long ago ended their leases, and one wondered how much longer it was before a giant developer would take over this once much-prized space of urban commerce and entertainment and either give it a makeover or transform it into something more profitable.
But it is not only derelicts and dinosaurs of the marketplace that get a drubbing with the reversal of fortunes. In the mall near where I live on Commonwealth Avenue, distinctive for its kitschy and ever-grotesque architectural design, and where capacity crowds are all-year-round, there are shops which have closed and are awaiting new lessees. In a few instances, they may be temporarily closed due to renovations which, though costly, are designed to plow back bigger profits in the future. But in general, boarded-up businesses mean bankruptcy for the shopkeepers and unemployment for their workers.
Even long-established names in the market go through the doldrums. Whenever I am inside this popular mall, I make it a point to observe how the shops, stalls, kiosks vending food, clothing, and all other necessities as well as luxuries of life fare comparatively. One restaurant, sandwiched between two other eateries, may have a few diners or none at all, while the competitors may have their hands full attending to their patrons. Two of the country’s most popular chicken establishments face each other in this mall. The older one, whose main outlet opened in 1945, is proving to be the bigger draw, nearly all its tables occupied at lunch and dinner, while the other place, which started life in 1950 as a panciteria in Quiapo, is often nearly empty, despite its legendary chicken and noodle offerings. The waiters and waitresses wait around empty tables, while there is feasting over at the other place. It may not be long before this branch withers and falls.
Past Times, Hard Times
Bankruptcy is of course a universal phenomenon of economic life and commerce, and happens to people in opulent or impoverished societies. Living in London for many years, I witnessed the rise and fall of businesses big and small. Signs such as “under new management,” “closing down sale,” “all items must go,” “closed until further notice” were quite common, or else the shops were completely boarded up, their metal or wooden shutters defaced with unreadable graffiti, and the business was up either for sale or for a new lease.
Loss of business is suffered even by the most venerable establishments. Recently The Sun of London headlined a story about a “retro-themed” high street chain of stores, the wonderful Past Times, described as “teetering on the brink, putting another 1,000 retail jobs at risk.” The report also said that “the chain’s private equity owner confirmed it intends to appoint administrators in the New Year.”
Past Times is the quintessential purveyor of English or British memorabilia, a chain of more than 100 stores famous for its nostalgia-rich line of products such as Celtic jewelry and artifacts, watches, toys, stationery, books, clothing, décor and other items reminiscent of Ye Olde England. The atmosphere becomes more authentic and redolent of the past if the branch you enter is in the English countryside.
The Sun revealed the plight of other London establishments, such as stocking filler specialist Hawkin’s Bazaar and lingerie chain La Senza poised to go bust and take the road to administration or receivership. BBC News quoted the La Senza management as putting the blame on the general economic downturn and “tough trading conditions.” Other reasons cited by the media for the fall from grace of Past Times and other shops were the growth of selling via Internet and “the biggest squeeze on spending power” as a result of the economic crisis.
Wherever I find them, shuttered shops and stores bereft of customers, with only forlorn-looking salesgirls standing by their stations, can only evoke that old familiar feeling of sympathy for a way of life that I grew up with.