Customer service, my foot
Yesterday, I went to Hobby Lobby. I like to LOOK at the items in this store, but I rarely buy. Unless it is clearance, then "Katie, bar the door!" (Whatever THAT means!)
This store irritates me on many levels. The first being that their registers are from 1981. Is this a local problem, or is it nationwide? There is no scanner. The clerk reads the price on the tag and types it into this giant piece of machinery. After you pay, you get a skinny, short slip of paper that provides no information about what you bought, other than the price.
Secondly, we have an irritating sales clerk who has been there entirely too long. And entirely too much, because she is there every single time I go in. This person has no facial expression and a strange name. She has a bad attitude and that makes me not want to buy things from her.
My new irritation hinges off of the last one. Yesterday, in an effort to avoid this particular clerk's line, I got in line at the next register. Which of course was STILL the wrong line because it was a warp zone and time was moving very slowly in this line. This woman made me want to apply for the checker job because, surely, I could apply, be interviewed and hired before she was ever going to get to me.
After waiting about ten minutes, I finally could see the cashier up ahead. Ten minutes later, when I could finally place my purchases on the counter, my bladder was about to rupture. Still later, tears of frustration were flowing as she finally told me my total.
I got out my Debit bank card which I use for all purchases. This makes life so much easier for my husband, who is the money-man in my home. However, I need to keep this Debit card on a lanyard around my neck because I have a bad habit of leaving it various places. Daniel told me to always hold my wallet in my hand until I put the card back. Then I will be sure I have it. Good advice, and that is what I do now.
This lady wasn't cooperating.
She scanned my card, then placed it to the side of the ancient computing machine. Through my tears, I could see my little card, far away, and I started to panic.
"May I please have my card?"
"Um, no. I don't ever give it back until you have signed for the purchases."
What? The purchases which you are holding hostage on your side of the counter? The eighteen dollars worth of yellow-tagged clearance merchandise that is 80% off?
It is a face-off. I stand there with my wallet in hand, opened to the place where the card goes, with my hand out. I stare at her with a look that says "Please give me my card or .... or...." and she felt very threatened.
I got the card, signed for my purchases, and took my bags and left. Needless to say, I won't be going back there.
At least until I need something framed for half price.
This store irritates me on many levels. The first being that their registers are from 1981. Is this a local problem, or is it nationwide? There is no scanner. The clerk reads the price on the tag and types it into this giant piece of machinery. After you pay, you get a skinny, short slip of paper that provides no information about what you bought, other than the price.
Secondly, we have an irritating sales clerk who has been there entirely too long. And entirely too much, because she is there every single time I go in. This person has no facial expression and a strange name. She has a bad attitude and that makes me not want to buy things from her.
My new irritation hinges off of the last one. Yesterday, in an effort to avoid this particular clerk's line, I got in line at the next register. Which of course was STILL the wrong line because it was a warp zone and time was moving very slowly in this line. This woman made me want to apply for the checker job because, surely, I could apply, be interviewed and hired before she was ever going to get to me.
After waiting about ten minutes, I finally could see the cashier up ahead. Ten minutes later, when I could finally place my purchases on the counter, my bladder was about to rupture. Still later, tears of frustration were flowing as she finally told me my total.
I got out my Debit bank card which I use for all purchases. This makes life so much easier for my husband, who is the money-man in my home. However, I need to keep this Debit card on a lanyard around my neck because I have a bad habit of leaving it various places. Daniel told me to always hold my wallet in my hand until I put the card back. Then I will be sure I have it. Good advice, and that is what I do now.
This lady wasn't cooperating.
She scanned my card, then placed it to the side of the ancient computing machine. Through my tears, I could see my little card, far away, and I started to panic.
"May I please have my card?"
"Um, no. I don't ever give it back until you have signed for the purchases."
What? The purchases which you are holding hostage on your side of the counter? The eighteen dollars worth of yellow-tagged clearance merchandise that is 80% off?
It is a face-off. I stand there with my wallet in hand, opened to the place where the card goes, with my hand out. I stare at her with a look that says "Please give me my card or .... or...." and she felt very threatened.
I got the card, signed for my purchases, and took my bags and left. Needless to say, I won't be going back there.
At least until I need something framed for half price.
posted by Amanda
at
6:18 PM
3 Comments:
I left my card at the Hobby Lobby once. I had to travel back an hour out of the way to pick it up.
It's a conspiracy I tell ya.
Doesn't that store know not to mess with a hormone-driven pregnant woman? Brave people, I tell ya. While they got the Verge of Tears preggo lady, they easily could've come face to face with Spittin Venom preggo lady...and that could've gotten very ugly.
Poor sis...I could picture you staring at the women in sheer panic and disbelief as your debit card lay so close yet so far from reach.
I so know the other checker that you are talking about...I used to know her name....but I have since forgotten it!! Ooops, but when she paid her school bill she was the exact same. So I made it my mission to see if she had a personality, but after two times coming to my window, she started going to someone else...I could just read her thoughts, "Oh gosh...not that teller...I hate going to her...she's so...odd." :)
But I agree with your feelings towards that store...it's more of a place that makes you remember, "oh, yeah, I could make that at half that price!" :)
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