OlyMan
Established
This will mainly strike a chord with UK readers, but perhaps readers from the US and other countries can, unfortunately, draw parallels with their own national high-steet 'specialist' photographic stores (I know you US guys have B&H, which seems to be a Jessops equivalent). Sadly it's a bit of a long-winded rant, but hopefully one which you will also find an interesting read.
I like using film. There, I've said it. I've 'come out'. Going by the adverts and lineage given to digital cameras in all the popular photography magazines and media, I realise that I must be some kind of anachronistic freak, but that's the way I am. Even more freaky, my preference is to shoot on slide film.
I had reluctantly accepted that my local independent photo shops (or should that be "digital photo booths") no longer stocked slide film, but I was disappointed last month to find that neither of them processed it anymore. Still, reluctantly accepting it as a sign of the times, I turned to what I thought was the last bastion – the last 'safe haven' if you will – for those who choose to capture their treasured images traditionally. Jessops.
It's material to my narrative that I have not visited my nearest Jessops store since 2001, so doing so two weeks ago was a culture shock. The first surprise, observed by just casually looking in the window, was that all the used gear had gone. Not just the film gear (I expected that much), but the used digital gear as well. How, pray, do Jessops customers 'trade up' if there's not an intlet through which to be relieved of their old kit in part exchange for new? For buyers of used equipment, the 'old' Jessops had an in-store national database, together with the shops' enviable reputation of being able to get you any used item from any of its stores within 48 hours. However, I digress.
The second surprise was inside. Gone is the 'gadget corner' with all manner of things like tripods, straps, kit-bags, cable-releases, enlargers, developing tanks and curiosities you didn't even know you needed like hotshoe-mounted spirit-levels. In their place is a gargantuan 'mini-lab'.
One of the great things about Jessops of old (or at least my nearest store) was that, as the last-remaining 'specialist' nationwide photographic high-street chain, they didn't used to concern themselves with trying to keep up with the Joneses, such as Boots and others, by offering in-store D&P. Instead they carved their niche from being able to offer goods and services which the mainstream shops couldn't afford to give either the time nor the floor-space to. How sad then that Jessops now feel they need to turn into yet another highsteet D&P outlet which just happens to sell cameras as well. Seeing that on a Saturday afternoon my local branch of Supasnaps (a national D&P outlet) is nearly always brimming with people wanting their memory-cards printed, how equally sad it was (but not surprising) to see the mini-lab section in Jessops devoid of customers and manned by one bored-looking member of staff, staring into space and eagerly waiting for home-time.
Now another thing you could always guarantee in the old Jessops was that the staff in the shop were genuinely interested in photography and were trained to understand the products and services they offered. This was in stark contrast to lesser shops, staffed (even if not managed) by apathetic misfits with about as much interest in photography as my five-year old boys have in brain-surgery, and who were only there because the job-vacancy was the first card they picked up in the Job Centre.
So it was with this last glimmer of hope that I walked gingerly up to the minilab desk and, smiling pleasantly at Mr Bored, I asked him if I could possibly have my one role of Fuji Sensia developed, scanned and mounted.
The look of sheer horror which then crossed his face could only have been bettered if I'd told him I'd just murdered his wife and kids. Suddenly the empty counter became a blur of shuffled papers and envelopes with muttered "erm, no no not that, erm, not that either, where is it…" Eventually the required envelope was found (how stupid was it of me to assume the monolith which towered behind him could process slide film). He took my film, my phone number and promised he would ring me when the film and CD was returned to them from the processors.
So, after two weeks of hearing nothing, I decided this morning I'd ring the shop. The conversation went as follows:
Me: Hi there, two weeks ago I dropped off a slide film for developing, scanning and mounting but haven't heard anything since. Can I have an update on my order please?
Jessops: We don't generally phone customers back.
Me: But it was YOU who asked for my phone number and took my order?
Jessops: What's your order number?
Me: <quotes order number>
Jessops: <short silence> No, it's not back <pregnant silence>
Me: Right. How long does it usually take to process slide film these days?
Jessops: A week. Could be a little longer seeing that you want it scanned as well, I guess
Me: Have you chased them up?
Jessops: No, not yet. I'll ring them on Monday.
Me: Right. When would you have done so, had I not rang? And come to think of it, if my CD and film WAS already sat there waiting for me to collect it, how would I have known if you don't generally ring customers back, even though you ask for their number?
Jessops: Like I said, I'll ring them on Monday, then I'll ring you back (good answer avoidance).
Me: Ok. Have you still got my phone number?
Jessops: Err <shuffled papers heard> I guess not, no.
Me: <Name and number given>
Jessops: Ok I'll ring you on Monday.
Me: Honestly?
Jessops: Yes, goodbye
Me: Goodbye
So I'm going to go to a bookies and ask them what the odds are on (a) Mr Bored telephoning the developers on Monday and asking about my film and CD, and (b) what the odds are of him ringing me back.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
R.I.P., Jessops. You were once great.
I like using film. There, I've said it. I've 'come out'. Going by the adverts and lineage given to digital cameras in all the popular photography magazines and media, I realise that I must be some kind of anachronistic freak, but that's the way I am. Even more freaky, my preference is to shoot on slide film.
I had reluctantly accepted that my local independent photo shops (or should that be "digital photo booths") no longer stocked slide film, but I was disappointed last month to find that neither of them processed it anymore. Still, reluctantly accepting it as a sign of the times, I turned to what I thought was the last bastion – the last 'safe haven' if you will – for those who choose to capture their treasured images traditionally. Jessops.
It's material to my narrative that I have not visited my nearest Jessops store since 2001, so doing so two weeks ago was a culture shock. The first surprise, observed by just casually looking in the window, was that all the used gear had gone. Not just the film gear (I expected that much), but the used digital gear as well. How, pray, do Jessops customers 'trade up' if there's not an intlet through which to be relieved of their old kit in part exchange for new? For buyers of used equipment, the 'old' Jessops had an in-store national database, together with the shops' enviable reputation of being able to get you any used item from any of its stores within 48 hours. However, I digress.
The second surprise was inside. Gone is the 'gadget corner' with all manner of things like tripods, straps, kit-bags, cable-releases, enlargers, developing tanks and curiosities you didn't even know you needed like hotshoe-mounted spirit-levels. In their place is a gargantuan 'mini-lab'.
One of the great things about Jessops of old (or at least my nearest store) was that, as the last-remaining 'specialist' nationwide photographic high-street chain, they didn't used to concern themselves with trying to keep up with the Joneses, such as Boots and others, by offering in-store D&P. Instead they carved their niche from being able to offer goods and services which the mainstream shops couldn't afford to give either the time nor the floor-space to. How sad then that Jessops now feel they need to turn into yet another highsteet D&P outlet which just happens to sell cameras as well. Seeing that on a Saturday afternoon my local branch of Supasnaps (a national D&P outlet) is nearly always brimming with people wanting their memory-cards printed, how equally sad it was (but not surprising) to see the mini-lab section in Jessops devoid of customers and manned by one bored-looking member of staff, staring into space and eagerly waiting for home-time.
Now another thing you could always guarantee in the old Jessops was that the staff in the shop were genuinely interested in photography and were trained to understand the products and services they offered. This was in stark contrast to lesser shops, staffed (even if not managed) by apathetic misfits with about as much interest in photography as my five-year old boys have in brain-surgery, and who were only there because the job-vacancy was the first card they picked up in the Job Centre.
So it was with this last glimmer of hope that I walked gingerly up to the minilab desk and, smiling pleasantly at Mr Bored, I asked him if I could possibly have my one role of Fuji Sensia developed, scanned and mounted.
The look of sheer horror which then crossed his face could only have been bettered if I'd told him I'd just murdered his wife and kids. Suddenly the empty counter became a blur of shuffled papers and envelopes with muttered "erm, no no not that, erm, not that either, where is it…" Eventually the required envelope was found (how stupid was it of me to assume the monolith which towered behind him could process slide film). He took my film, my phone number and promised he would ring me when the film and CD was returned to them from the processors.
So, after two weeks of hearing nothing, I decided this morning I'd ring the shop. The conversation went as follows:
Me: Hi there, two weeks ago I dropped off a slide film for developing, scanning and mounting but haven't heard anything since. Can I have an update on my order please?
Jessops: We don't generally phone customers back.
Me: But it was YOU who asked for my phone number and took my order?
Jessops: What's your order number?
Me: <quotes order number>
Jessops: <short silence> No, it's not back <pregnant silence>
Me: Right. How long does it usually take to process slide film these days?
Jessops: A week. Could be a little longer seeing that you want it scanned as well, I guess
Me: Have you chased them up?
Jessops: No, not yet. I'll ring them on Monday.
Me: Right. When would you have done so, had I not rang? And come to think of it, if my CD and film WAS already sat there waiting for me to collect it, how would I have known if you don't generally ring customers back, even though you ask for their number?
Jessops: Like I said, I'll ring them on Monday, then I'll ring you back (good answer avoidance).
Me: Ok. Have you still got my phone number?
Jessops: Err <shuffled papers heard> I guess not, no.
Me: <Name and number given>
Jessops: Ok I'll ring you on Monday.
Me: Honestly?
Jessops: Yes, goodbye
Me: Goodbye
So I'm going to go to a bookies and ask them what the odds are on (a) Mr Bored telephoning the developers on Monday and asking about my film and CD, and (b) what the odds are of him ringing me back.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
R.I.P., Jessops. You were once great.
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