This Calendar Girl Sure Misses Viking Office Supply

I miss Viking Office Supply.

I'm not the first former customer to say this—a Facebook friend used it as her status, in frustration, a month or so ago—nor is this the first time I've said it myself.

But it's November. It's time, it's PAST time, to get a 2011 calendar. In previous years, I would already have my new calendar. I would already have all the school events, the early dismissals, the days off, the vacations, dutifully and usefully filled in. My husband has a rotating on-call schedule at the Geneva Fire Department, meaning he's available at a moment's notice when not at the fire station. Those weeks would already be marked in orange highlighter, the better to discern immediately when he, if not we, must be in town.

Not this year, though. Viking is closed, and that's where I bought the same model calendar—highly utilitarian and decidedly non-decorative, with plenty of lined space for each date—year after year after year. It's where I got pens, and pencils, and my printer paper, and highlighters, and notebooks, and pads and folders. 

I went looking for a replacement last week. The big store, frankly, didn't have nearly the selection of calendars. I don't like the one I purchased and I have yet to hang it up or fill it in. And don't get me started on my inability to find a certain kind of pen I also used to buy at Viking. 

I grant you that the purchases for my home-based business did not generate nearly enough sales to keep Viking afloat. I understand, to an extent, the difficult environment in which the business found itself. I understand why the Johnson family closed the doors on Viking. 

But lots of us still miss it. Come Christmas Walk, Genevans and guests will miss the welcoming atmosphere, and the Christmas cheer served up along with office supplies, cards, art supplies, gifts and decorative items.

You know, I don't even know if Office Depot or Office Max carry the Prism notepads I've used for nearly 20 years. I guess I'll find out, after I use up the ones I snapped up before Viking turned out the lights.

Pencil me in—on my inadequate calendar—as not looking forward to the experience.