Saturday, January 19, 2013

Feeling guilty

I was a crab this evening. 

Maybe it was because I had to be on my best behavior this afternoon.  Maybe it was because I am on day 14 of another PFH (Period From Hell).  Maybe it's just because I am a not very nice person.

I felt sorry for myself because I needed to go to two stores to return items -- I was tired and my back hurt from having a period for two weeks, plus it was windy and cold; all I wanted to do was sit at the computer and veg. 

The first return was a breeze.  The second return was easy as well, but it all went south when I asked the woman at Guest Services (ha!) for a price adjustment for the $2.00 I had been overcharged on an item I had purchased the evening before.

It seems so simple.  Store T charged me $17.99 for an item that was ticketed at $15.99 on their shelves.  Refund me $2.00, less the 5% discount I get because I spend way too freaking much of my husband's hard-earned money at Store T, less the 50 cent store cash register generated coupon I redeemed for the item.

Silly me.  Store T's team member informed me she couldn't give me a refund for the overcharge.  She asked someone else and they said the same thing.  Even though the item was on the shelf for $15.99, the item is listed as $17.99 in their system -- computer trumps customer and/or any semblance of customer service.  The employee didn't even believe me that the tag on the shelf said $15.99.  Go ahead, call me a liar.  The only suggestion the Guest Services (as if!) woman had for me was to go home and get the item and then return it if I didn't want to pay the price they were charging.  

Muttering (mostly) to myself, I stormed off to look at men's socks.  I couldn't find any socks that I thought G would like, and as I futilely searched, I grew more and more ticked at the lack of customer service and basic respect I had received.  D*mnit, I wasn't going to be pushed to the side that easily. 

I went back up to Guest Services (what a lie!) and told the woman that I didn't want to be any more disagreeable than I had already been, but I was really not happy with the lack of customer service she had shown me.  I asked her if someone would be willing to go look at the shelf to verify that I was only asking for what I was entitled too, nothing more.  She obviously wasn't willing to go herself or even pick up the walkie and ask another team member to look for her.  I could feel my face growing redder and my blood pressure escalating.  Arrrgh.

Just then another team member came into the Guest Services area and my unhelpful associate asked her about my "unreasonable" request.  This woman agreed that she could find a way around the pesky computer system.  She offered to refund me $17.99, less my 5% Store T loyalty card discount, and less the 50 cent off store-generated coupon I had redeemed last night.  Then she would charge me $15.99, less my 5% discount, BUT she could not (would not?) give me the 50 cents off for the coupon I had used last night . . . wait for it . . . because I had used it last night. 

How incredibly stupid.  If only I had known that I was going to be overcharged, I would have saved my coupon for tonight.  I personally have witnessed cashiers overriding the system when coupons won't scan or if the system refuses to acknowledge that the customer has indeed purchased the requisite item to qualify for the price reduction.  All this team member needed to do was manually enter a 50 cent store coupon code into the register.  But she wouldn't do it.  Before I left, felt that I needed to point out to her that I felt it was unfair to penalize me for what was clearly Store T's error.  I said, "I hope you can see that all of this has totally negated the benefit of using a coupon."  She said she was sorry, but to be honest, I didn't believe her.

So as I left the store, muttering (yes, again) about how unfair Store T was, I managed to dump all of my credit cards, drivers license, insurance cards, and other assorted receipts on the floor in full view of everyone in the check out area.  Arrrgh.          

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