I can still see a hoard of customers gazing through the glass doors.
It’s a Saturday morning before opening. I’m a high school student who works part-time at the Bay. Soon, security will unlock the sliding doors and bargain hunters will beeline toward a department: menswear, women’s clothing, electronics, bedding, toys, cookware, small appliances, shoes, towels …
It was the late ’80s and the Bay was a one-stop citadel of everything.
Now it’s the end of days — or more specifically, the end of Bay Days.
Hudson’s Bay was in court this week seeking to liquidate more than 90 stores, including the Saks outlets. Canada without the Bay? That’s like Rome without the Vatican.
For generations, the Bay was a secular religion. We assumed it was immortal.
What went wrong? Was it the pandemic? The rise of e-commerce? Dubious investment strategies? The tsunami of fast fashion from China? The fall of bricks-and-mortar retailing? When my teen daughters buy anything, it is always online and never in person.
This shift in consumer behaviour has robbed us of a bonding experience.
I served Canadians from every walk of life during my badged tenure. I helped people find their size and always enjoyed the chit-chat as customers offered back stories during point-of-sale transactions.
I need a new shirt for a job interview. I need swim trunks for a cruise my wife is forcing me to take. Does cashmere send a wrong message to my underlings at the office?
This was shopping as socializing, something you don’t get on Amazon.
The company is still trying to stay alive. But the odds are Canada’s oldest store is now tiptoeing behind Eaton’s and Simpsons into retail heaven. As Olivia Chow told CP24: “It is so sad.”
It is sad for all involved. I was recently at Casino Niagara. The Bay’s demise came up at dinner and my sister-in-law got ashen. She asked what might become of her Bay Rewards. She had accumulated four figures in dollar value and assumed this was forever.
Now her points are gone.
My heart goes out to the eight million Canadians who had earned points snatched away. My heart goes out to the creditors who may never get paid for goods and services. But most of all, my heart goes out to the more than 9,000 employees who will lose more than a job.
The Bay was my second family. Workers became close friends. We lunched in the staff lounge and whined about the stress of Scratch ‘n’ Save. We started a softball team. We remembered birthdays. We are still in touch.
My life would be totally different without the Bay. I met my wife in high school. One day in creative writing class, she told me she worked at Le Château, also in Fairview Mall. I screwed up my courage and asked if she might want to meet up for our 15-minute breaks that Friday night.
That was the start of the next 35 years and so many fond memories.
A customer once asked me to direct her to Tommy Hilfiger, a new brand at the time. I did not know this. I assumed Tommy Hilfiger was a new hire. So did Warren, my pal and colleague. Warren pointed the woman toward the suits department but said he wasn’t sure Tommy Hilfiger was working that night.
The confused woman looked at us like we were on crack.
She later complained to a manager who came over to inform us that Tommy Hilfiger was a brand and not a colleague. After he left, Warren and I were crying laughing as we organized chinos before close.
On another occasion, I was changing the receipt roll in my till when a familiar baritone asked for assistance. I turned my head. Holy CTV, it was Lloyd Robertson! I was a nerd and news addict. Had I been cool, this was the equivalent of Mick Jagger asking for help with rolling a joint.
I tended to Mr. Robertson’s needs and refrained from asking for an autograph.
Years later, when I was profiling the legendary anchor for a feature before his retirement, I told him this Bay story. I didn’t tell him about the time Monika Schnarre accidentally kneed me in the calf on the escalator or a Maple Leaf I won’t name tried to haggle over argyle socks.
As for the warning signs about the end of Bay Days? About a decade ago, I ordered brogues. When I opened the box, there was only one shoe. When I have wandered into a store more recently, I’ve needed a divining rod to find someone with a badge. The Bay started dying years ago.
There are fewer brands. The selection is blah. Sales are a shadow of yesteryear.
But none of this lessens the sadness.
We will miss the Bay more than we can imagine.
