I
received a text message from Best Buy telling me the happy news: “Your entry last month has WON!” Nice!
But since I hadn’t entered any contests at Best Buy I resisted the urge to
click on the link and claim my $1,000 gift card. Later that same week I heard
my local news readers warn us all to "Beware
the Gift Card Texting Scam, News at 11!" How did I know? Easy. The
company that sweats giving me a $50 product price match would probably not be
doling out a $1,000 gift card to one of its crankiest customers. (Click here
to read more about my travails at Best Buy.)
Thanks for reading The Urban Erma. You can subscribe to the blogcast (yes, I made up this word) FREE on iTunes. And, in case you were wondering, in addition to blogging I am also an amazing stand-up comedian. I do "Thinking Cap Comedy." Basically, if comedy were music, I'd be Jazz. Want to see a show? Check out my schedule at @ VeryFunnyLady.com.
Here's what happened. I
got a circular in the mail (yes, some stores still do this. The environment be
damned!) from Microcenter, my favorite computer store. Good news: They were
selling the iPad2 for $50 less than anyone else. Bad news: From my house,
Microcenter is a macro-haul and the price of gas is serious enough to make me
think twice about extraneous travel. So I took the circular to the nearest Best
Buy. Before trudging through the store and into to the computer department just
to get my feelings hurt, I stopped right inside the front door, asked for a
manager and said these words:
“Do you price match on the iPad2?”
I then pointed to the
picture of said iPad2 in the circular so there could be no mistake in my
meaning, no breakdown in communication. Had the man said, “No,” I would have thanked him for his time, filled my gas tank and
began my journey out to Microcenter.
Much to my shock and awe
he said, “Yes, we do price match.” So
off I went to the computer department. As the cashier rang me up, I mentioned
the price match and, lo and behold, the fun and fellowship ground to a halt. He
said, “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t price
match on Apple products."
Did you catch that? In
the 45 seconds it took me to walk from the front door to the back of the store
Best Buy had changed its price matching policy. Is it any wonder that the
business sector has essentially given this big box its last rites? Have we
learned nothing from Circuit City?
Sensing the rising
tsunami of my displeasure the cashier explained that in order to qualify for
price matching I had to have the approval of a manager.
Check.
I had to have the other
store's circular.
Check.
Said store had to be
within 25 miles and he’d have to call them to verify the price. I pointed to
the address and phone number on the circular.
Check mate.
Mind you, this was the
kind of chicanery that I was trying to avoid when I walked in and said to a
manager in my best non-Ebonic English: “Do
you price match on the iPad2?” Perhaps I should I have said it with a
British accent.
Seeing that I was not at
all dissuaded, the situation -- for that's what it was now -- was upgraded from
a plain old purchase to a customer service issue and relocated to the desk of
the same name. Managers were called and they huddled up like football players
trying to figure out their next move. Then they broke and scurried away, all
trying to look terribly busy, save for one. The original manager whom I had met
at the front door walked over to me like he’d been the one to draw the short
straw. With the good grace enough to look ashamed, he handed me back my
circular and said, “I’m sorry, ma'am. I
don’t think I can do this.” And I, knowing that if this was a movie, this
moment would be my close-up, looked him in the eye and said, “Well then, who can?”
A nearby cashier shook
her head and said, “You’d have to call
Kevin on that.” All the busy managers still within earshot exchanged
guarded looks, glancing around as if just speaking his name would make him
suddenly appear. Was Kevin the Best Buy version of He Who Must Not Be Named?
“But he's at home," someone said. "He's not coming in until two."
Oh the horror.
This was followed by
much silence and foot shuffling. Finally, I spoke up and said, “Okay, I’ll call Kevin.” Short Straw
Manager gave in, took my circular and said, “Let
me see what I can do.”
Another manager threw up his hands and stormed off saying, “No! I’m not going down for this!”
Going down? For $50?
Seriously? Was this money coming out of somebody's pay check? If it's standard
policy not to price match Apple products wouldn't all the Blue Shirts know
that? If Kevin is the only one who can make executive-level decisions why is he
even allowed to leave building?
When Short Straw
returned from his audience with the Great and Powerful Kev, he said they were
going to "make an exception" for me. Me? I was touched. Really. That
I should be given what I asked for -- nay, was told I could have -- after
dealing with no less than four employees clearly, it must be my lucky day. Maybe
I should have played the lottery. Maybe, that $1,000 gift card text was legit
after all.
Thanks for reading The Urban Erma. You can subscribe to the blogcast (yes, I made up this word) FREE on iTunes. And, in case you were wondering, in addition to blogging I am also an amazing stand-up comedian. I do "Thinking Cap Comedy." Basically, if comedy were music, I'd be Jazz. Want to see a show? Check out my schedule at @ VeryFunnyLady.com.
No comments:
Post a Comment