Postcard Hunting for Martin Freeman
Jan. 31st, 2012 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowfireflameSo I live in a large metropolitan area which is unfortunately not known for its tourist attractions. We have some things, sure, like theme parks and historical areas and sports teams, but not that many, and none that are easily accessible to me.
About three years ago I could walk into any Wal-Mart and see a big rack of postcards for about 10 cents each at the front of the store. I know because I enjoy sending mail to my friends and believe it is an under-utilized form of art, really. (Also, I took a lot of time in school perfecting my handwriting, and it pains me that I so rarely get to write things down and show it off!)
I like sending mail; I love the BBC’s Sherlock, and hence I adored![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick’s idea for fandom to send Martin Freeman postcards (which I discovered via emmagrant01) letting him know through his agency how much we love and appreciate him since he is made of kittens.
My only challenge lay in actually finding a postcard, and that was a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated.
I started my search about a week ago. I first went to several different Wal-Marts, where I was informed that they hadn’t carried postcards for “years.” I hunted on my own through the store but couldn’t find any. Then I tried Target, but no avail. I wasn’t worried by this point, though; these big stores phase stuff out; it happens.
I hit my local grocery store next, then a few other grocery store chains. I got some dubious looks telling me to try aisle 15, maybe, but they all doubted that they had any. They were right.
Next up were the pharmacies, of which the girl at CVS looked really confused and the manager at Walgreens actually laughed in my face. “I remember we used to carry them, but we never sold any except to a lady who worked here,” he said. “Try Hallmark.”
Hallmark didn’t have any, but he was right, I thought: it was time to move to more bookish areas. I hit up Half-Price Books, Barnes and Noble, my local library (which sells assorted used and donated stationary sometimes), and a few local booksellers, all of which had actual cards, but no postcards and nothing local, nothing that said my city’s name on it.
By this point I was beginning to get a little worried and exasperated. Seriously—it’s one measly postcard! How hard can this be? I’d been to about twenty different stores. And, sure, I should have probably given up at this point and just made my own, but 1) I am not particularly artistic when it comes to drawing, and 2) at this point it was becoming a kind of treasure hunt. If there were postcards to be found in my city, damn it, I was determined to find them.
“If I were a postcard, where would I be?” I mused, and of course, I would be in a hotel! It was simple, stupid really, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Fortunately there are a ton of hotels despite the comparative lack of attractions, so I went to the gift shops of four different ones. Toothpaste, yes. Tiny little deodorant containers for a ridiculously inflated $6 each, yes. Razors and mouthwash and shot glasses and keychains, yup—but alas, no postcards. “Try the dollar store?” one of the cashiers suggested.
We have lots of dollar store chains (the ones where everything is supposedly a dollar—they’re so useful for poor recent grads like myself as long as you don’t care about quality), so I dropped by one and asked a worker who seemed knowledgeable. “Hmm,” she said. “You can check, but I know we don’t have any. We used to carry stuff like that…not sure why we don’t anymore. You should try 7-11.”
Of course! I thought. Gas stations—the refuge of the road trip! And if there’s one thing my city has more than anything else (other than McDonald’s, I guess), it’s cars and the gas stations to service them. I remember from going on road trips myself that it was the solitary gas station that was the gem when it comes to touristy stuff (I collect keychains, so this is of interest to me)—the one smack dab in the middle of nowhere usually sells things like cheap memorabilia and postcards. But I live in the middle of a city, not in the middle of nowhere.
Still, I followed the dollar store lady’s suggestion and checked out 7-11. Slushies and hot dogs, yes; postcards, no. Perusal of several other gas stations yielded no further help.
At this stage, instead of becoming increasingly frustrated I found myself becoming perversely cheerful. Though occasionally disheartening as I was stymied at every turn, it was unquestionably interesting to go through my city in this way. I began expecting the answer “no” and instead of just leaving began mining store workers for information and suggestions. I became better at picking out workers who had been there for a while and knew the merchandise from newbies. I started enlisting random people I met for help, and I was pleased that everyone seemed to commiserate with me—“You know, I hadn’t thought of that, but I hardly ever see postcards anymore except at museums”—and strangely, hardly anyone ever suggested the same place as anyone else.
Eventually I realized I might be overthinking the problem. A postcard is something you send in the mail; therefore, hie thee away to the Post Office! No luck, though they did have some free boxes, yay. But the postal worker guy suggested that I check out a mail shop in the neighborhood.
I went there and became really excited when I could see generic cards with kittens on them from outside, but inside I found no postcards, alas. However, the woman at the till turned out to be a fount of knowledge at mailing and shipping things. She thought for a while and said, “What you really need isn’t a gas station—it’s a truck stop. I think there might be one in [a city in my metroplex].”
I brought it up to my dad later and found that he happened to be going to that part of the city on an errand, so I rode along with him. We found the truck stop, which actually had the words “travel center” on it. He filled up the car while I went inside to peruse their wares—and lo and behold, postcards with my city and state on them! They had about 20 different varieties at 25 cents each. I bought 30, beaming and telling the cashier that he should jealously guard those postcards since “you’re the only place in this state that has them” (I’m sure I exaggerated).
I’ll mail it tomorrow, but for now—Martin Freeman, I hope you appreciate the effort I put forth to get this to you! :D
EDIT: Okay, it’s in the mail! Who’s next, fandom? Benedict Cumberbatch? (Yup. Address is here.)
EDIT 2: SQUEEING!!
About three years ago I could walk into any Wal-Mart and see a big rack of postcards for about 10 cents each at the front of the store. I know because I enjoy sending mail to my friends and believe it is an under-utilized form of art, really. (Also, I took a lot of time in school perfecting my handwriting, and it pains me that I so rarely get to write things down and show it off!)
I like sending mail; I love the BBC’s Sherlock, and hence I adored
slodwick’s idea for fandom to send Martin Freeman postcards (which I discovered via emmagrant01) letting him know through his agency how much we love and appreciate him My only challenge lay in actually finding a postcard, and that was a much bigger challenge than I had anticipated.
I started my search about a week ago. I first went to several different Wal-Marts, where I was informed that they hadn’t carried postcards for “years.” I hunted on my own through the store but couldn’t find any. Then I tried Target, but no avail. I wasn’t worried by this point, though; these big stores phase stuff out; it happens.
I hit my local grocery store next, then a few other grocery store chains. I got some dubious looks telling me to try aisle 15, maybe, but they all doubted that they had any. They were right.
Next up were the pharmacies, of which the girl at CVS looked really confused and the manager at Walgreens actually laughed in my face. “I remember we used to carry them, but we never sold any except to a lady who worked here,” he said. “Try Hallmark.”
Hallmark didn’t have any, but he was right, I thought: it was time to move to more bookish areas. I hit up Half-Price Books, Barnes and Noble, my local library (which sells assorted used and donated stationary sometimes), and a few local booksellers, all of which had actual cards, but no postcards and nothing local, nothing that said my city’s name on it.
By this point I was beginning to get a little worried and exasperated. Seriously—it’s one measly postcard! How hard can this be? I’d been to about twenty different stores. And, sure, I should have probably given up at this point and just made my own, but 1) I am not particularly artistic when it comes to drawing, and 2) at this point it was becoming a kind of treasure hunt. If there were postcards to be found in my city, damn it, I was determined to find them.
“If I were a postcard, where would I be?” I mused, and of course, I would be in a hotel! It was simple, stupid really, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Fortunately there are a ton of hotels despite the comparative lack of attractions, so I went to the gift shops of four different ones. Toothpaste, yes. Tiny little deodorant containers for a ridiculously inflated $6 each, yes. Razors and mouthwash and shot glasses and keychains, yup—but alas, no postcards. “Try the dollar store?” one of the cashiers suggested.
We have lots of dollar store chains (the ones where everything is supposedly a dollar—they’re so useful for poor recent grads like myself as long as you don’t care about quality), so I dropped by one and asked a worker who seemed knowledgeable. “Hmm,” she said. “You can check, but I know we don’t have any. We used to carry stuff like that…not sure why we don’t anymore. You should try 7-11.”
Of course! I thought. Gas stations—the refuge of the road trip! And if there’s one thing my city has more than anything else (other than McDonald’s, I guess), it’s cars and the gas stations to service them. I remember from going on road trips myself that it was the solitary gas station that was the gem when it comes to touristy stuff (I collect keychains, so this is of interest to me)—the one smack dab in the middle of nowhere usually sells things like cheap memorabilia and postcards. But I live in the middle of a city, not in the middle of nowhere.
Still, I followed the dollar store lady’s suggestion and checked out 7-11. Slushies and hot dogs, yes; postcards, no. Perusal of several other gas stations yielded no further help.
At this stage, instead of becoming increasingly frustrated I found myself becoming perversely cheerful. Though occasionally disheartening as I was stymied at every turn, it was unquestionably interesting to go through my city in this way. I began expecting the answer “no” and instead of just leaving began mining store workers for information and suggestions. I became better at picking out workers who had been there for a while and knew the merchandise from newbies. I started enlisting random people I met for help, and I was pleased that everyone seemed to commiserate with me—“You know, I hadn’t thought of that, but I hardly ever see postcards anymore except at museums”—and strangely, hardly anyone ever suggested the same place as anyone else.
Eventually I realized I might be overthinking the problem. A postcard is something you send in the mail; therefore, hie thee away to the Post Office! No luck, though they did have some free boxes, yay. But the postal worker guy suggested that I check out a mail shop in the neighborhood.
I went there and became really excited when I could see generic cards with kittens on them from outside, but inside I found no postcards, alas. However, the woman at the till turned out to be a fount of knowledge at mailing and shipping things. She thought for a while and said, “What you really need isn’t a gas station—it’s a truck stop. I think there might be one in [a city in my metroplex].”
I brought it up to my dad later and found that he happened to be going to that part of the city on an errand, so I rode along with him. We found the truck stop, which actually had the words “travel center” on it. He filled up the car while I went inside to peruse their wares—and lo and behold, postcards with my city and state on them! They had about 20 different varieties at 25 cents each. I bought 30, beaming and telling the cashier that he should jealously guard those postcards since “you’re the only place in this state that has them” (I’m sure I exaggerated).
I’ll mail it tomorrow, but for now—Martin Freeman, I hope you appreciate the effort I put forth to get this to you! :D
EDIT: Okay, it’s in the mail! Who’s next, fandom? Benedict Cumberbatch? (Yup. Address is here.)
EDIT 2: SQUEEING!!
