Dear JC Penney,
For most of my adult life, I have been a loyal JCP customer. I carried a JCP credit card - it was only my second credit card, and I carried it proudly. There were plenty of JCP stores around, and I spent many a happy Saturday afternoon amongst the clothing racks. JCP had great sales - My favorite was the one where they gave away a candy bar at the store entrance, and inside the wrapper was the amount of discount you got on your purchases that day. It was also the store where I discovered what can happen to a woman when she sees a clearance sign. Sigh... JCP was my store.
There was a day when you could go into a JCP store and the selection alone would take your breath away. There was something comforting about having a store where I could buy great clothes from a great selection, and get the occasional housewares item as well. The last few years though have taken a toll on our relationship. While I've still tried to give JCP the first opportunity for my business, admittedly there has been the occasional foray into another store. Yet, still, I always came back, thinking we could always work things out. I was in this for the long-term.
However, in the last two years, JCP has changed, and not for the better. You hired an idiot CEO who ran you into the ground. You stopped having your weekly sales. You've lost most of your inventory. Case in point - I ran into JCP the other day to look for a new sheet set. Where it used to be that I could walk into the bedding section and find hundreds of items, and get hives just from the anxiety of having too many to choose from, now there are less than 10. Most of your name brands are gone, replaced by brands I've never heard of. And your pricing was absolutely ridiculous - Either too cheap to take a chance on, or too high to even consider without taking out a small loan. Call me old-fashioned, but I miss the upper middle-class JCP that I knew and loved.
So - although it pains me, I've come to the sad conclusion that it's time to break up. We've just grown apart and no longer have anything in common. It's not me - it's you.
For most of my adult life, I have been a loyal JCP customer. I carried a JCP credit card - it was only my second credit card, and I carried it proudly. There were plenty of JCP stores around, and I spent many a happy Saturday afternoon amongst the clothing racks. JCP had great sales - My favorite was the one where they gave away a candy bar at the store entrance, and inside the wrapper was the amount of discount you got on your purchases that day. It was also the store where I discovered what can happen to a woman when she sees a clearance sign. Sigh... JCP was my store.
There was a day when you could go into a JCP store and the selection alone would take your breath away. There was something comforting about having a store where I could buy great clothes from a great selection, and get the occasional housewares item as well. The last few years though have taken a toll on our relationship. While I've still tried to give JCP the first opportunity for my business, admittedly there has been the occasional foray into another store. Yet, still, I always came back, thinking we could always work things out. I was in this for the long-term.
However, in the last two years, JCP has changed, and not for the better. You hired an idiot CEO who ran you into the ground. You stopped having your weekly sales. You've lost most of your inventory. Case in point - I ran into JCP the other day to look for a new sheet set. Where it used to be that I could walk into the bedding section and find hundreds of items, and get hives just from the anxiety of having too many to choose from, now there are less than 10. Most of your name brands are gone, replaced by brands I've never heard of. And your pricing was absolutely ridiculous - Either too cheap to take a chance on, or too high to even consider without taking out a small loan. Call me old-fashioned, but I miss the upper middle-class JCP that I knew and loved.
So - although it pains me, I've come to the sad conclusion that it's time to break up. We've just grown apart and no longer have anything in common. It's not me - it's you.
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