Second in a six-part series
Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to day two and lesson one.
All right, enough math for one day. On to the disclaimers.
All violence within these lessons are for demonstrative purposes only. No monkeys were harmed in the writing of these essays, only people. These lessons should not be read by those who may be sensitive to caffeine. Finally, if you really want the full experience while reading these lessons, put Moby's "That's When I Reach for My Revolver" in your player.
Good. Let us proceed ...
Lesson #1: Don't shoot the messenger
By J. Michael Bestul
210 west Writer [send email]
Yesterday, I brought up cliche that needed to be buried like the corpse it is. Why not start the first lesson with a different overused phrase? When you come into a store, don't shoot the bloody messenger.
If you're shopping at a store that has locations in more than one city, it's a pretty solid bet that "insignificant" things (like pricing, flexibility, procedures) are set. No amount of bitching at the part-time help will make things suddenly go your way.
(Hell, sometimes bitching at the manager in such a store won't change things. That's a downside to franchise: you may get consistency, but you won't get flexibility)
Oh, and if you're calling/stopping by to smugly inform an employee of said retail outlet that you know of a lower price at a bigger, more soulless chain... fine. Though you are exercising your capitalistic freedom of choice (sacrificing service and knowledge for a $3 price difference), stop yourself before you start accusing/interrogating the aforementioned help.
While your self-righteousness may feel good, remember: I have eight D-size batteries behind the counter, and I used to play baseball. The petty satisfaction you receive from belittling a retail employee (with a college degree) is NOTHING compared to the satisfaction he/she will feel from seeing your overweight and unconscious body hit the floor.
Just trying to warn you, people. The holidays are supposed to be festive, not an orgy of transferring your stress onto nameless employees, whose suffering gets you off.
Today's Example: Today's subject called a retail store where he/she had reserved two very popular upcoming DVDs. During her ample free time, he/she spotted a commercial advertising one of those DVDs. It was from a major (read: soulless) national chain, and the DVD would be $3 less than the copy he/she reserved. At this point, our subject decided that a $3 savings was worth more than the:
a) guaranteed copy that he/she would have, even if we sold out,
b) call reminding him/her of the release of the DVD, and
c) $3 coupon off any other non-sale item.
Hey, I understand. A quick $3 is a Red Bull and a Snickers, and no service can compare to that. As a result, the subject requested cancellation of the one reservation, and his/her down payment to be transferred onto the other. Perfect and good, had he/she stopped right there.
Of course, he/she did not. After all, this is supposed to be an illustrative example, right? After that $3 savings was secure, the subject then launched into an interrogation of the employee who'd helped him/her out. Accusations such as "why don't you give people who reserve the best price?" (actually, we give them a dollar off our lowest sale price) and assertions such as "well, there's no point to reserving then" (note the services provided above) provided minutes of stimulating conversation, all during an in-store rush.
So, ladies and gentlemen, the next time you get that tingly feeling of superiority/anger, keep it to yourself. You are free to conduct your business elsewhere. Just don't shoot the messenger on your way out. Remember the Ninth Beatitude:
"Blessed are the retail workers during the holiday season, for they shall wreak bloody vengeance upon the stupid and short-tempered."
Next Lesson: You want what?! And on tape?!
Festive, my ass. If you call a mall packed with people dragging coats, boots, and kids through a sea of Santa seekers, bargain shoppers, and slow walkers fun, you're just wrong. Ever notice how even the air is sweet with candied sugars and nuts making even the smell of good things nauseating? Here, here to online shopping and catalogs, I say. And another here, here to retail workers who have to smile as another person uses them as their whipping boy because they're still mad they didn't get the last Cabbage Patch doll. (Okay, so the reference to Cabbage Patch kids dates me, but those who know know.)