A love letter to Target, the store that stole our hearts

Jenna Wong/Staff

Dear Target,

It’s been a while. We miss you.

After the move back to Berkeley in August, you’re no longer just a car ride away. Well, you are. You’re still really only four miles away, but the issue is that we don’t have cars, we’re broke, we’re out of time and we’ve run out of free Lyft credits.

We’ve tried to convince ourselves you weren’t right for us — just a leech feeding on our money and time. We tried to see other people. Walgreens, CVS, even Daiso couldn’t fulfill us.

Truth is, you’re the red that fills our blood, the buttery popcorn that fills our lungs and the glossy white floors our feet ache to slide on. You’re toxic, and we’re slipping under, baby.

We don’t know when we met you, but we can’t remember a time spent without you, from buying our first flip-phones to school-supply shopping and beyond. We’ve shared some of our happiest moments, but we’ve also dealt with some of our worst — from post-breakup ice cream to overdosing on DayQuil when we’re sick, you’ve been through it all.

Yet, through the good and the bad, you’ll always be there. We can count on you for those Gucci finds at Forever 21 prices.  We can barely get through the door before the dollar section beckons us to try its latest hits. “I need this,” we whisper under our hot breath. Who else could have possibly introduced us to the world of mini-binders for all that mini-bookkeeping we have to do? String lights and fuzzy socks? Always at a decent price.

Let’s not entirely ignore the birth of “Alex from Target” and every other checkout clerk in his succession. “Oh, (insert red-shirted employee’s first name here),” we dream as we watch mystery lover search for the barcodes on our boxes of saltine crackers. “Look at that scanning technique.” Never have we ever been so pleased to be asked, “Would you like a bag for ten cents?”

You’ve been through it all. You handed us the toilet paper for revenge on our exes; you had us caught, deer in headlights, when we ran into our second-grade teachers; you watched as we stood motionless, mesmerized while watching Britney Spears (or another equivalent celebrity) buying organic snacks in slow motion.

Truth is, Target, we’re desperate. We miss you, we need you and we can’t do life without you.


The Clog

Contact Camryn Frederickson at [email protected].