Wednesday, December 16, 2015

The time I vaguely felt like Neal Page from Planes, Trains and Automobiles

I hate shopping.

I really do.  And by shopping, I mean shopping in person of course.  I mean, nobody hates shopping from the comfort of their cozy couch, right?  Who could hate that?  Who could hate getting deliveries on your front porch of boxes filled with new and shiny things?  Nobody, that's who.

So I had to go shopping in real life.  Which means I had to put on a bra and pants, god damn it.  

I also had to put makeup on, because I don't want to look like a gross wrinkle who now has a beard stain on my face. (I'll tell you about the beard stain another day, probably)  I had to make my hair look passable, which is becoming a challenge lately, let me tell you.

After all of that freaking exhausting preparation,  I had to drive to the mall.  And circle the freaking mall parking lot for a parking spot, two weeks before Christmas.  Who wants to do that on purpose??  Apparently a lot more people than I had hoped...

I am not the kind of person who needs to get the closest spot in the parking lot to feel like I have scored.  I mean, I'd love the closest spot, obviously, because who wouldn't.  But I actually kind of like parking far away.  I like walking.  Especially if I am not the carrier of the bags.  Having a really far away parking spot didn't annoy me, though I can't say the same about the circling part.  I was in a pretty fine mood, considering all of the shopping prep that just took place.

I had to go to the mall because I was overcharged on two things that I had recently bought that were on sale and you know, I would have just sucked it up, but I was annoyed!!  Why advertise a great sale if you don't honor it!  It was a BOGO that saved me over 80 bucks!  I love saving 80 bucks!

The situation was slightly confusing because I only had an email receipt, and there were a lot of things on that receipt, so I decided to go talk to a person in customer service.  It seemed easier to explain everything to a real face.  

So after getting myself presentable, driving to the freaking mall, and then circling the insane parking lot for an actual spot, I got to the store and went to where customer service used to be.

And it wasn't there.

So, no big deal, things change.  Customer service desks can change and move, I can roll with it.  So I went to the store map because I am smart like that, but I couldn't find the spot for Customer Service.  So hm.  I figured fine, I will just go ask a person at a register if they could help me.

Being that it is two weeks before Christmas and that the parking lot was basically full, I assumed there would be a few lines.  So yes, I did assume correctly.  There were lines.  At every register.  I picked the least lengthy looking one and waited my turn.

When it was finally my turn, I explained my problem to the moron checkout person.  She told me that I should go to a different department. So grr, fine.  Like the cool cucumber I am, I once again rolled with it and made my way to the department she told me to go to.  Where I once again waited on a dumbass line, which brought me to another equally moronic checkout person, who promptly told me that I needed to go to a different department.  OK. So double grr.  I was inwardly like, really dumbass, isn't this your job??? But I dug deep for some Christmas fucking cheer, slapped a smile on my face and went to the department he directed me to, because Christmas! (keep in mind this is now the 4th place I visited)

You have to know how this ended.  I got to the other department, waited for a few moments while the lady yapped with her co-workers about non-work related things, then finally she gave me her attention. I vaguely felt like I was in Planes Trains and Automobiles where I was Neal Page and I had finally reached the desk and the lady with big hair yapped on the phone and said gobble gobble.  Remember that part?  When the lady finally decided to give me her attention, she told me that they don't have a customer service department anymore, and that I should go back to the department that I just came from because they know more about the merchandise than she does.  Then I wanted to act like Neal Page and say, "I want a fucking car, right fucking now."  Except instead of a car I just wanted a person who actually knew what they were doing.


That was the point that I stamped away angrily.  I literally made my way around four floors to wait on four lines to talk to four different people who were each equally clueless.  I could have easily lost my mind.  But instead I stamped away all sweaty-faced and frizzy-haired (from being sweaty). I decided to say fuck it and write a mean tweet.  And I don't even tweet. I couldn't even find a customer service phone number on their credit card that would direct me to someone who was actually with the store.  Who doesn't have a customer service department in their store???  Macy's that's who.  And I am writing a mean tweet.

The bad news is that I really can't boycott the store because I really love Macy's, and their sales are always so great.  Except of course, when they don't give you the sale price.

That was my most recent trip to the mall.  And you wonder why I hate going shopping?

No comments:

Post a Comment