I’ve never been particularly tempted to try turning a leisure pursuit into a living, and part of the reason is that I’ve never known a cheerful hobby shop owner.
I think the guys who were cheerful in their pre-hobby shop lives must be the ones who bottom out at a sort of deliberate numbness. Our local R/C shop guy will get there, and one moment sir, and I’ll probably have to order that, and you’ll get what you’re after eventually. Don’t look for a smile, though.
On the other hand, I think the guys who already had anything of a tendency toward grouchiness can become openly hostile. We’ve got a local model railroading guy who gets irritated when he knows more than you do about what you’re looking for. He’s a mutterer, too. My supplier this. My delivery guy that.
Certainly the business side strips a lot of the romance from it, and I figure it’s resentment of the lost pleasure manifesting itself. It must be a strong force, too. In the age of the Internet, customer service is a primary distinguisher.
It really doesn’t bother me much, but it definitely makes me not want a hobby shop.
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