Fool me once ...
Well slap my ass and call me Judy.
I've learned something about bitching. Not that I'm not already a real Bitch. But seriously, I'm talking about complaining. Not random whining about entitlements you think you deserve, I mean complaints about legitimate wrongs.
See, I have always tended to be too polite (or too lazy) to fuss about things that are in error. Oh, I'll get on my blog or whinge to Evil Genius Husband about a pack of diapers with faulty tabs or a poor customer service encounter but I usually don't make the effort to write the diaper company or ring back and talk to Ms Rude-as-fuck's supervisor.
I have officially learnt my lesson. It was finally prompted by a second bad encounter involving one of my cars. I complained the second time and got satisfaction (and a refund cheque). I should have bitched about the first incident. Here's The One That Got Away:
The Best Buy on Harbison Blvd in Columbia, South Carolina can officially kiss my broad arse.
The new Dodge Behemoth Van lacked one of the two basic automotive essentials (In a World According to Blue): a CD player. (The other one, incidentally, is AC and the Mopar's is fine.) So one day we packed up the Brood and sailed on down to our only local Best Buy.
I normally love the Best Buy. Best Buy is usually the shit. But that day it was just shitty.
Being of limited income I picked out the cheapest-within-reason CD player and quizzed the salesman on the details of getting it installed. He assured me that it would be $25 if they didn't have to do anything but if - and I quote - "they have to rewire anything" it would be $35. We all toddled over to the Wal-Mart while they worked on it.
An hour later Evil Genius Husband climbs up into the van with the receipt as I'm happily inserting a CD into my new player. Offhandedly, I asked him how much it was. My brain imploded like a random singularity a few seconds later.
Turns out he had just paid almost twice the cost of the player just to have it installed. About 4 or 5 times more than I was told. Needless to say I went crashing in and was 'helped' by Smug Boy who condescendingly informed me of having to 'cut the wires and install an adapter' ($)which was pugged into a second adapter ($$) which goes between the first adapter and the CD player. Let's not forget the two holes they 'had' to cut in the dash ($$$) and the wee frame that goes around the player to pretty it up and is apparently not included in the sales price ($$$$).
I was an-GREE. Angry at the smug little installer, angry at the salesman for neglecting to mention these possiblilities, angry at EGH for paying the money, and angry at myself for being stupid enough to let it happen.
See, I have this thing about being in control of a situation (NO, Blue .. not you!). Not only do I have the pressing need to be informed but I also need to comprehend. I must know exactly how everything works and why. I do it with my health care and I do it with my cars. I'm pretty mechanically inclined. I'd've made a fair engineer. I can look at - oh let's say the front end when I took the Dodge in to my mechanics - and you can point things out and explain and I will completely understand the system. Mechanical shit makes sense to me.
Electrical is another matter.
So when Smug Boy was detailing vaguely the things they had to do to install the CD player (we had to cut some metal in there ... and re-do some of the wiring) he may as well have been describing brain surgery on an emu. I am so totally unfamiliar with auto electrics and it makes me feel nervous, vulnerable. So there was nothing I could do but frown and grumble (and point out that I had a hole-saw and some files at home and could've bloody cut my own holes in the dash if I'd known they were going to charge me 20 fucking dollars for each one!).
So Best Buy, you dropped the ball you cocksuckers and I let you. I should've come out there and checked for myself if you were being on the up and up and you should've informed me, the customer, of the slew of possible charges. I should have asked for Smug Boy's supervisor the instant he first sneered at me. I was stupid but you were WRONG. Shame on you.
I will say that the Bloodhound Gang's I Hope You Die sounds particularly fine on the new player, though.
I've learned something about bitching. Not that I'm not already a real Bitch. But seriously, I'm talking about complaining. Not random whining about entitlements you think you deserve, I mean complaints about legitimate wrongs.
See, I have always tended to be too polite (or too lazy) to fuss about things that are in error. Oh, I'll get on my blog or whinge to Evil Genius Husband about a pack of diapers with faulty tabs or a poor customer service encounter but I usually don't make the effort to write the diaper company or ring back and talk to Ms Rude-as-fuck's supervisor.
I have officially learnt my lesson. It was finally prompted by a second bad encounter involving one of my cars. I complained the second time and got satisfaction (and a refund cheque). I should have bitched about the first incident. Here's The One That Got Away:
The Best Buy on Harbison Blvd in Columbia, South Carolina can officially kiss my broad arse.
The new Dodge Behemoth Van lacked one of the two basic automotive essentials (In a World According to Blue): a CD player. (The other one, incidentally, is AC and the Mopar's is fine.) So one day we packed up the Brood and sailed on down to our only local Best Buy.
I normally love the Best Buy. Best Buy is usually the shit. But that day it was just shitty.
Being of limited income I picked out the cheapest-within-reason CD player and quizzed the salesman on the details of getting it installed. He assured me that it would be $25 if they didn't have to do anything but if - and I quote - "they have to rewire anything" it would be $35. We all toddled over to the Wal-Mart while they worked on it.
An hour later Evil Genius Husband climbs up into the van with the receipt as I'm happily inserting a CD into my new player. Offhandedly, I asked him how much it was. My brain imploded like a random singularity a few seconds later.
Turns out he had just paid almost twice the cost of the player just to have it installed. About 4 or 5 times more than I was told. Needless to say I went crashing in and was 'helped' by Smug Boy who condescendingly informed me of having to 'cut the wires and install an adapter' ($)which was pugged into a second adapter ($$) which goes between the first adapter and the CD player. Let's not forget the two holes they 'had' to cut in the dash ($$$) and the wee frame that goes around the player to pretty it up and is apparently not included in the sales price ($$$$).
I was an-GREE. Angry at the smug little installer, angry at the salesman for neglecting to mention these possiblilities, angry at EGH for paying the money, and angry at myself for being stupid enough to let it happen.
See, I have this thing about being in control of a situation (NO, Blue .. not you!). Not only do I have the pressing need to be informed but I also need to comprehend. I must know exactly how everything works and why. I do it with my health care and I do it with my cars. I'm pretty mechanically inclined. I'd've made a fair engineer. I can look at - oh let's say the front end when I took the Dodge in to my mechanics - and you can point things out and explain and I will completely understand the system. Mechanical shit makes sense to me.
Electrical is another matter.
So when Smug Boy was detailing vaguely the things they had to do to install the CD player (we had to cut some metal in there ... and re-do some of the wiring) he may as well have been describing brain surgery on an emu. I am so totally unfamiliar with auto electrics and it makes me feel nervous, vulnerable. So there was nothing I could do but frown and grumble (and point out that I had a hole-saw and some files at home and could've bloody cut my own holes in the dash if I'd known they were going to charge me 20 fucking dollars for each one!).
So Best Buy, you dropped the ball you cocksuckers and I let you. I should've come out there and checked for myself if you were being on the up and up and you should've informed me, the customer, of the slew of possible charges. I should have asked for Smug Boy's supervisor the instant he first sneered at me. I was stupid but you were WRONG. Shame on you.
I will say that the Bloodhound Gang's I Hope You Die sounds particularly fine on the new player, though.
posted by MrsEvilGenius at 12:57 PM
2 Comments:
How the hell have I missed you all this time? Pity you can't step back in time and do some slapping around. It certainly was due.
Reminds me of a joke whose punch line goes (in a Brit accent)"For thirty stirlings I'll make my own hole!"
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