Take 2 coming for movie store
Shop owner will give away business based on essay ‘Which of you shall we say doth love us most?’
It’s called Select Video, and that’s just what the succession rights to the popular 30-year-old store are going to hang on — owner Mohammad Dirani’s selection, his personal choice.
It’s not about the most money, nor the offer with the safest financing, bankroll or credit rating behind it.
No, Mohammad is interested in the best “terms” he can get from the new owner; terms, as in language and feeling behind it.
He’s giving his business away to the author of the essay, be it writing or video, that most convinces him of a commitment to and enthusiasm for the store’s tradition; a tradition he describes as one of customer service, passion for the product and sense of community. (The building is not included.)
That’s right. He’ll give you the business (including more than $100,000 in inventory); not strictly for free — you have to pay $175 for your essay to be eligible — and not without cost you have to expend the effort to write or shoot an essay and it has to be the best.
If, as Mohammad hopes, he gets 1,500 submissions, that will generate for him, at $175 a pop, the $262,000 he thinks the business is worth.
If he doesn’t get the minimum number, he’ll call off the contest and remit the $175 to entrants. “I want to know what the store is worth to you,” says Mohammad of his unconventional way of passing it on.
“I’m not that interested in punctuation and grammar. If the essay speaks from the heart, if there’s a real love for the business, that’s what I’m looking for.”
The idea, he tells me, emerged from conversations with colleagues about unconventional “sharing economy” approaches to selling off, and this essay angle came up.
It appealed to him because, for Mohammad, Select isn’t just a store. He needs to feel, for himself and his customers, that it’ll continue in good hands.
Mohammad and Select, at Queen and Main, have been part of people’s Friday nights for ages. Not just Friday nights, of course. But Friday, after work, after school, symbolizes what Select was and still is, a coming together time for friends, families and individuals, to pick out something with which to kick off one’s shoes and/or one’s weekend.
“I’ve always loved the movies,” says Mohammad. “And I love talking about them. People ask advice and it always helps to interact. I can also give feedback on what other customers like.”
In his quietly amicable way, he helps customers find what they’re looking for, even if they don’t know what they’re looking for.
“The landscape has changed so much,” says Mohammad, who took over Select Video from his brother Amed 15 years ago.
“Blockbuster closing gave us a boost and Netflix has not been as big a factor as people think. Obviously, we’re still here for a reason.” Business, he says, is still good. The location is great.
“We get everyone from teens to seniors. Parents bring their kids in. It’s nostalgic.”
It’s been a while since I last visited Select Video. I used to come all the time when my girls were younger, and I’m a bit nervous stepping in to interview Mohammad. Not so much because I’ve stayed away but because I half-suspect there’s a two years’ late DVD of “Any Given
Wednesday” with Chris Kattan in between my cushions.
Yes, I dabble in Netflix now, with the irritating wheel that goes ’round and ’round when it’s not connecting with your Internet. But what Netflix is missing is . . . Mohammad. Someone to say, “Hmmm, you might like this instead.”
Peter Maycock swings open the door while I’m there and tells me he’s been coming to Select for four years and he and Mohammad talk like old friends. “I sure get a lot of use out of this store,” he says.
“I’ll be here right through the transition,” says Mohammad, who would like to start up something in physio, for which he’s trained.
That new owner? Could it be you? Start writing. You’ve got 500 words.