The other day I was revisiting an old story- The Great Cookie Debacle- with my husband. I seem to be stuck in reminiscing mode. Anyway, this was one of my all time favorite DTRJH? moments, so I thought I would share.
It was my niece's birthday and her favorite cookie ever is something called the Peanut Butter Blossom. (It's a peanut butter cookie with a chocolate kiss centered on top.) We thought on our way out of town we would stop at the local cookie store in the mall which I shall call Blunders. Blunders is apparently famous for their Peanut Butter Blossoms, but not so much for their common sense.
We had an hour's drive ahead of us so we were in a bit of a hurry when we rushed in- not that it mattered since it was nearing close on a Sunday and there were no lines. I was nervous as I scanned the case hoping to find the cookie to end all cookies (not necessarily for me as I hate peanut butter but my niece would argue the point so I thought I'd throw that in). There they were, in all their shining glory (okay, not shining, brown really, but brown glory just doesn't have the same ring to it), one full dozen- twelve, count them TWELVE- Blossoms- for my niece and her friends to savor (or fight over depending on how many were in attendance at the party).
A young lady came to the register and said, "How may I help you?" in a chipper voice.
Okay, really that's just me daydreaming. What really happened was a Brainless Employee came to the register and mumbled something indistinguishable that I could in no way understand, making it obvious that she had been pleasantly piddling away her time during her last-UGH- hour of her shift and I had interrupted, but I didn't care; I had cookies to buy.
I told her what I needed and that's when this conversation commenced.
BE: But I can't sell you all twelve.
Me: Huh?
BE: I can't sell you all twelve.
Me: Okay… (I'll bite) Why?
BE: Because I'm not over eighteen.
Now in Alice's Wonderland- a realm ruled completely by chaos- this might make sense- but as I had not fallen down a rabbit hole or stepped through a looking glass I was a bit confused.
Me: What has your age got to do with anything?
BE: Indiana state law doesn't allow me to work the ovens because I'm not eighteen, so I can't bake.
Me: No problem. I wasn't asking you to bake- you got twelve- I want twelve. (Fork 'em over sister.)
BE: But I can't sell everything that's in the case.
Still not believing I am having this twisted argument when time's a tickin' away, I bravely persevered.
Me: That's not everything in the case. Look there, you have sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies and oatmeal cookies and even cookies that look like the Cookie Monster. I'm not buying those. Just the Peanut Butter Blossoms. Thank you. (I was still striving to be polite at this point even though I was starting to feel my own IQ points trickling away. I mean really, we were arguing about purchasing cookies INSIDE a cookie shop. Isn't that the purpose of a cookie shop? To SELL cookies? I wasn't asking for a lung transplant.)
BE: No, I mean I can't sell all of one kind. That's our policy.
Me: Uh huh. Well. Could you please explain that policy to me? I mean, you're here to make money right? And look- you're already halfway there- you have the customer, who has the money and you have the wares. All you have to do is bag the cookies and I will pay you and voila- feat accomplished!
BE: I'm sorry, I can only sell you half.
Me: What?!
BE: That's our policy. We can only sell half of what's in the case so that the next customer can buy some too.
Me: What if I'm the last customer tonight? What do you do with the other half of the cookies then? Do you sell them tomorrow? (Considering the 'Fresh Baked Cookies' sign as opposed to the 'Day Old Cookies Because We Are Blithering Idiots' sign, I doubted it.)
BE: No, we throw them out.
My head was spinning.
Me: Have you ever heard the saying 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?' 'Cause you're kind of banging on the bush looking for more and you've got one in your hand RIGHT NOW. You close in like an hour- chances are no one else is coming but me. Yet it's perfectly logical to you to hold on to six cookies you will throw away later rather than sell them FOR MONEY right now.
BE: It's just our policy.
Me: Policy Schmolicy. How do you guys make your rent?
This brainiac was in HIGH SCHOOL. Yep, she's great at taking orders- talk about your lemmings committing mass suicide following all of the others into the sea. Pink Floyd had it right- these kids really are getting processed through a meat grinder- she was the proof of that. I think I even saw a little hamburger coming out of her ear.
Nevertheless, this had now become a challenge. Brainless Employee had thrown down the cookie gauntlet and I was not one to pass it up. One way or another I was buying those cookies if it killed me in the process. I swear I was willing to go to jail for them. I was determined to get them for my niece yes, but at the same time I was determined to empty that damn case. IF IT KILLED ME. (Did I already mention that?)
Looking around I devised a plan. I was not alone on this mission. My two children and their father were with me. Instantly I started passing out cash.
Me: Okay. I will buy six cookies. That leaves six- HALF of the cookies. He (I pointed at the childrens' father) will purchase three. Leaving HALF again, that's three cookies. (I knew math could NOT possibly be her strong suit.) Then, he (son) will buy - oh wait- do you round up or down?- never mind- he'll buy one and a half and my daughter will buy one and a half. Now you have two choices. Sell me twelve cookies all at once, or start ringing 'em up, 'cause if it takes all night halving cookies, then so be it. Those puppies are mine.
She must have realized she was in a no win situation. Maybe most people wouldn't have waged an all out Blossom Battle, but she hadn't met me yet.
Finally she gave in.
BE: Fine, but if I get in trouble I'm telling my supervisor what you did.
Me: Go right ahead. And tell her she's an idiot if she can't figure out how stupid her policy is.
Honestly, what's better, a pretty case for the customers to look at, or a full cash drawer? For me, there is no debate. Take the money and run.
Which brings me to my next customer service epic fail. This took place back when my son was still in high school. He had mentioned to me one morning that he needed new jeans- judging by the various holes he was sporting in the pair he was wearing at the time (holes not actually MEANT to be there- not some high dollar 'ripped' jeans- he actually wore them out) I told him to meet me at my work on my lunch hour.
We took said lunch hour to run to a nearby store to purchase the jeans- and YIPPEE - they were ON SALE. Now my kids can tell you nothing makes my eyes light up more than a clearance rack. When I pinch a penny (which is always) it ends up flatter than any train could ever do. So we managed to purchase four pairs of jeans for the low, low price of $60, plus my 20% coupon making it $48 plus tax- WOOHOO. Momma's doin' a happy dance all the way to the register. Twelve bucks a pair for jeans- now we are talking!
It wasn't until I got back to work and read my receipt that I realized I had been charged $96 plus tax- one of the pairs of jeans was over $60 (remember 20% came off the top)- WHAT? Now in my lifetime I have NEVER paid $60 for jeans (and God willing never will). Naturally I told my son to meet me back at the store after work- the very LAST thing I wanted to do.
We arrived at the store and went back to Customer Service- a loose term that. Anyway, I dutifully waited in line with my little number- yes folks- we were taking numbers and standing in line. I was kind of hoping they might give me a half pound of smoked turkey- hey that's what my deli does… Finally my number came and I explained the problem to the woman behind the counter. She took the jeans I was returning and told me to head back into the store and find another pair and she would do the exchange.
My son and I returned to the clearance racks whereupon closer inspection I discovered they had literally been positioned in a circle around another rack of jeans that were NOT on sale. We had found the $60 winner. I told him to look more carefully- AVOIDING the naughty rack- and eventually he found another pair.
Back to Customer Service where one would assume we would not have to wait again- but naturally I was wrong. We took another number, stood in line another thirty minutes, and then met with the same woman who needed to be reminded who we were. (I suppose after an hour you do forget.) This was not the problem however. The problem was that she had misplaced the jeans that were to be exchanged.
My patience was at an all time low- remember- second shopping trip in the same day and I had worked a very busy ten hour shift. I was tired. I was hungry. I wanted to go home.
But, I bit my tongue and maintained a polite attitude, telling her, no problem, we'll wait while you find them.
And that was when she accused us of 'trying to pull a fast one' and stealing the jeans.
WHAT?!
You could literally hear tires squealing as everything around us ground to a halt. Now everyone in the room had all eyes on her and us. My son and I stood there baffled, with our mouths hanging open.
I tried to remind her she had taken the jeans- along with the bag and the receipt- before sending us back into the store.
Her response was: "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but it's not going to work. You had them with you when you left. It's not our policy to take the customer's merchandise."
(I am SO sick of hearing the words, 'Our policy.')
Eventually (still mid argument- and no I did NOT leap across the counter and throttle her although I REALLY, REALLY wanted to), her supervisor joined the melee. Stupid-visor- after hearing both sides including the insinuations the 'Customer Service Representative' was making- proceeded to back up her employee with the words- 'It's not our policy-'
At this point I wanted to scream. I DID yell. Loudly. With much vehemence. And some spit.
'I don't care what your policy is. I am telling you, she TOOK the jeans, AND the bag, AND the receipt, and I don't know what she did with them, and at this point I really don't care. Just give me the money I paid for the jeans and I promise you I will never darken your door again. I can NOT BELIEVE this is how you would treat a customer. Really? REALLY?! Accusing me of STEALING some stupid jeans? If I was going to STEAL them don't you think I'd be stealing the $60 ones and not the $12 ones? HOW can I STEAL something I'VE ALREADY PAID FOR?!'
At this point I think the Stupid-visor realized things had spiraled too far out of control- I'm half convinced someone had already placed a call to 911. However, the Stupid-visor began looking around and DID find a bag (buried under a bunch of crap the CSR was folding and hanging) sitting on the BACK counter about ten feet away from the customer service counter.
Stupid-visor was feeling rather sheepish when she presented it to me and asked if this was my merchandise. Which of course it was.
'Yeah, I'm a pretty damn clever shoplifter- I hid the merchandise out of MY reach.'
She then dismissed the CSR, performed the exchange, and attempted a weak apology.
And she never so much as offered me that half pound of smoked turkey.
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