Several weeks ago, on a fine Saturday morning, Peter and I had breakfast and decided to combine several errands so that we could have Sunday free to lounge around. Sears was the first stop – they were having their annual Canada Day sale and Peter was desperately in need of dress shirts for work.
Just so you know, Sears and I have a very tenuous relationship. I can’t resist their sales, but apart from one regular (actually fantastic) salesperson in major appliances at the location near us, I usually end up getting frustrated or angry – usually both – with the lack of service in the store or with the credit department – wherever they are located.
I got the usual “behave in the store” warning from Peter: stay calm, don’t let them push your buttons, and please don’t cause a scene. Moi? Cause a scene? Ha! Never! <ahem>
Half an hour in men’s shirts and I was ready to call the store manager to ask if staff ever picked up the merchandise off the floor or re-stocked the shelves. Ok, I know… it’s a sale, but really, why do people think they can just drop opened packages on the floor and walk off? Peter wasn’t looking for a white shirt with a footprint pattern.
We found several shirts, thanks to a shop assistant who surprised me by being efficient and helpful (wow… two such staff in one store!!) – and prior to heading off to the cash register, I checked the signs for confirmation of the sale pricing. Even the saleswoman confirmed yes, the shirts Peter had chosen were indeed 50% off the regular price.
We arrived at the cashiers station – a square counter with two cashiers working. As usual, there wasn’t so much of a lineup as more of a gaggle of people standing around, holding various items for purchase. I nudged Peter and told him to go to the far cashier, where the line was definitely shorter. As we arrived, the cashier barked at us, “go to the end of the line!”
I politely responded with, “what end of line? where?” “There’s a sign!” she snapped. I snapped back, “where?” “There!” she growled, not even looking up. I was buggered if I could see a sign anywhere that said “line forms here.” I asked a few of the customers waiting if they knew were the line started. No! Like me, they had arrived at the cash register and knew who was in front of them and that was it.
Several back and forth comments ensued, with me getting angrier, the cashier getting ruder, and no lineup or resolution forthcoming. Finally, one woman near me heaved the items she was purchasing from one arm to the other, and we all exclaimed in surprise, “there it is!” It was a single slim pole, three feet high, with an index-card sized sign saying, “Line forms hear” (and yes, here was spelled hear!).
When it was our turn to pay, I realized we were paying full price for several of the shirts. I questioned the cashier; she told me they weren’t on sale, and rather impatiently asked if I still wanted to purchase them. Peter stepped in and said yes, paid and despite my protests, signed for and completed the purchase.
“Hang on,” I said. “These are supposed to be 50% off the regular price!” I exclaimed to no one in particular. I know I’d caused a scene (yet again!), but really!
Instead of following Peter out of the store, I headed over to the wall of shirts with the sale signs. I read the fine print. I compared the “sale item codes” against the shirts we’d purchased. Sure enough! These matched! I removed one of the large signs attached to the wall and, this time with determination, headed back to the cashiers station.
As luck would have it, the kind saleslady who had assisted Peter and me walked by at that moment. I grabbed her (not literally!) and explained that we didn’t get the sale pricing, all the while waving the sign for emphasis. At that point, I had lost all self respect - I was on a mission to prove those cashiers wrong!
To make a long story a little shorter, she took us back to the cash register, explained to the frazzled cashier that we should have received the sales price. We walked out of the store with a refund of $38.
I know Peter was a tad embarrassed about the crazy woman waving the sales sign and causing a scene but as always, he kept quiet and let me bask in the glory of the kill! I had made my point and had won my battle! Yes! Score 1-0 for the home team!
Next stop: the jewellers.
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