Strange dreams last night. Really strange.
I dreamt I’d won a load of Marks & Spencer gift vouchers. £376 pounds worth, to be precise. For those that don’t know, M&S is a store here in the UK that lost the plot sometime around 1984. It used to sell clothes for the “upwardly mobile woman”, meaning twead and shoulder pads.
Ten years later, it was still selling the same. Twenty years later, they realised they were losing money, custom and had become a bit of a joke, so tried to change their image by selling upmarket but expensive food, and sexy red dresses. It’s almost worked, and their fortunes are slowly reversing.
One other thing that M&S is known for is their overly generous returns policy. M&S used to (and probably still do) sell millions of items over the Christmas period – basically unwanted, expensive tat – purely because folks would buy this for their rarely seen relatives, figuring that “if they didn’t want it, they could always take it back”. M&S survived purely because of people’s laziness – more people just stuck that clockradio/torch/keyring/sweater into the bottom drawer, rather than hit the store in January and walk away with cold, hard cash.
Anyway. Here I am in this dream with £376 of vouchers for the Store from Unwanted Gift Hell. So I decide to save them, and give them as gifts for Christmas – £10 here, £20 there. Everyone should be happy. Them the politics start, with one Auntie upset because she got a cheaper voucher than another, and that auntie upset because it’s, well, an M&S voucher. In the end, I please no one.
And I can’t figure out how I’ve got exactly $376 of vouchers when they only come in units of £10, $20 and $50. So I riffle through them and find it. A £6 M&S voucher, a one of a kind. Unique.
Maybe I should frame it. Or maybe sell it on eBay
That’s my dream. It’s strange, yet somehow mundane.
What’s your dream?