get my nails done,” Brittany wrote him in the summer of 2009. “If I cancel they’ll charge me. I can do tomorrow at lunch.”
*
With her family scattered in different states, Brittany kept in touch with them with a running stream of wisecracks and well-wishing. But everything wasn’t perfect between the siblings. After returning from a family gathering in Seattle, Brittany learned that her sister Heather was accusing her of swiping $300 cash out of her purse.
Brittany fired off a quick missive. “I have never done anything to you to give you the impression that I would ever steal from you, especially money. Anytime I’ve ever needed it, I’ve always asked you straight up,” she wrote. “At least have the decency and respect to ask me yourself, instead of going around telling people I stole money from you!”
“If you didn’t take it,” her sister wrote back, “then sorry for accusing you. I don’t know what to think!”
“At this point I can care less you didn’t know what to think. What have I ever done to make you think I would steal from you?” Brittany replied. “You don’t just accuse someone of doing something and throw false allegations out there before even speaking to them.”
The two sisters soon seemed to patch things up, returning to concern over each other’s lives.
*
Away from work, away from happy hours with friends, Brittany would fall into social isolation. She’d go through bouts of poor concentration, of trouble sleeping. In the spring of 2010, Brittany took a vacation but stayed in town. “At the gym twice a day,” she texted to a friend.
It was high-octane stuff: kickboxing classes, ab classes, “Boot Camp” classes. And it seemed to help revive the great athlete that Brittany had been. She started thinking about moving on to a new career—as a personal trainer, perhaps even owning a gym. And Brittany knew a place she thought might help her get there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mediocre Lives Are Lousy Lives
Of all the stores in America, the ones considered the most successful generally fall into two camps: luxury retailers, like Tiffany jewelers, or volume ones, like Costco. Rarely mentioned but squarely in the first camp is lululemon athletica, which in 2011 ranked fourth highest in sales per square foot of floor space—trailing only Apple, Tiffany, and Coach, according to the research firm RetailSails. Lululemon owed its quiet success to its limited but intensely loyal set of customers.
To customers, lululemon hit all the right buttons. The store’s roots were in yoga, offering stylish tights and tops made of moisture-wicking fabric, chafe-resistant seams, and hidden pockets for cards and keys. But the stores sold plenty of other workout gear as well, and its vibe wasn’t completely Zen and serenity. They targeted customers with high-paced lives, women who wanted to succeed on all fronts—as professionals, as mothers, as people.
Lululemon espoused their ethos in a thirty-one-part manifesto printed on its shopping bags, water bottles, and various merchandise. Number 11: “The world is changing at such a rapid rate that waiting to implement changes will leave you 2 steps behind. DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW!” Number 25: “Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocrity is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.”
Central to the company’s success were its saleswomen, called “educators,” whose mission it was to teach customers, called “guests,” about the technical specifications and design elements of the apparel, and allow them to decide what to buy. The ideal educators were fit and high-achieving women themselves; guests wanted to see themselves reflected when they spoke with them.
So when Brittany first met the manager of lululemon athletica’s store in Washington, D.C.’s Georgetown section, the manager saw a seemingly perfect employee. Brittany knew style. She
*
With her family scattered in different states, Brittany kept in touch with them with a running stream of wisecracks and well-wishing. But everything wasn’t perfect between the siblings. After returning from a family gathering in Seattle, Brittany learned that her sister Heather was accusing her of swiping $300 cash out of her purse.
Brittany fired off a quick missive. “I have never done anything to you to give you the impression that I would ever steal from you, especially money. Anytime I’ve ever needed it, I’ve always asked you straight up,” she wrote. “At least have the decency and respect to ask me yourself, instead of going around telling people I stole money from you!”
“If you didn’t take it,” her sister wrote back, “then sorry for accusing you. I don’t know what to think!”
“At this point I can care less you didn’t know what to think. What have I ever done to make you think I would steal from you?” Brittany replied. “You don’t just accuse someone of doing something and throw false allegations out there before even speaking to them.”
The two sisters soon seemed to patch things up, returning to concern over each other’s lives.
*
Away from work, away from happy hours with friends, Brittany would fall into social isolation. She’d go through bouts of poor concentration, of trouble sleeping. In the spring of 2010, Brittany took a vacation but stayed in town. “At the gym twice a day,” she texted to a friend.
It was high-octane stuff: kickboxing classes, ab classes, “Boot Camp” classes. And it seemed to help revive the great athlete that Brittany had been. She started thinking about moving on to a new career—as a personal trainer, perhaps even owning a gym. And Brittany knew a place she thought might help her get there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mediocre Lives Are Lousy Lives
Of all the stores in America, the ones considered the most successful generally fall into two camps: luxury retailers, like Tiffany jewelers, or volume ones, like Costco. Rarely mentioned but squarely in the first camp is lululemon athletica, which in 2011 ranked fourth highest in sales per square foot of floor space—trailing only Apple, Tiffany, and Coach, according to the research firm RetailSails. Lululemon owed its quiet success to its limited but intensely loyal set of customers.
To customers, lululemon hit all the right buttons. The store’s roots were in yoga, offering stylish tights and tops made of moisture-wicking fabric, chafe-resistant seams, and hidden pockets for cards and keys. But the stores sold plenty of other workout gear as well, and its vibe wasn’t completely Zen and serenity. They targeted customers with high-paced lives, women who wanted to succeed on all fronts—as professionals, as mothers, as people.
Lululemon espoused their ethos in a thirty-one-part manifesto printed on its shopping bags, water bottles, and various merchandise. Number 11: “The world is changing at such a rapid rate that waiting to implement changes will leave you 2 steps behind. DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW, DO IT NOW!” Number 25: “Nature wants us to be mediocre because we have a greater chance to survive and reproduce. Mediocrity is as close to the bottom as it is to the top, and will give you a lousy life.”
Central to the company’s success were its saleswomen, called “educators,” whose mission it was to teach customers, called “guests,” about the technical specifications and design elements of the apparel, and allow them to decide what to buy. The ideal educators were fit and high-achieving women themselves; guests wanted to see themselves reflected when they spoke with them.
So when Brittany first met the manager of lululemon athletica’s store in Washington, D.C.’s Georgetown section, the manager saw a seemingly perfect employee. Brittany knew style. She
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