Mind your F'ing business

During my junior year in college, I was living with my aunt and her family in Levittown, Long Island.

Levittown is known for three things: The King Kullen supermarket, an Old Country Buffet that violates every health code known to man and animal and a K-Mart.

I was running some errands with my aunt and we stopped in the K-Mart. She had to pick up some things and I looked around when I wasn't stuck to the floor that hadn't been cleaned since the Nixon Administration. I picked up a book and a heavy metal compilation c.d. Clear as day, the c.d. had a Parental Advisory sticker on it.

We go up to the register and the clerk looks at the c.d. She says, "Oh you can't buy that, sir."

Why not?

"It's got questionable lyrics. See the parental advisory sticker?"

I told that I did.

"Well, does your mother know you're buying c.d.'s with filthy language on it?"

Uh, yeah. She's known since I was 13.

She became indignant, saying that people like me are why the country's going to "hell, listening to music with filthy words. People like you are putting the older generation in jeopardy."

I let loose with, "Well, to be honest, I'm 21. Here's my I.D. I don't need you, my aunt--this is my aunt--, my mother or anyone else to tell me what music I listen to. I don't tell your hefty self to lay off the seventh Tasty Cake.

"You might be interested in knowing that along with listening to this c.d., I'm also going to listen to Sinatra and read Shakespeare tonight. Oh yeah, I am. Also, I have a 3.8 grade point average at a good college, majoring in journalism. Got anything you else you want to say?"

Her face turned red and she rang me up.

 

 

Standing O.

 

then she said, 'yeah, journalism? ha. i'll save a register for you'

 

I was Christmas shopping about 5-6 years ago, and went to buy perfume for my wife at The Bay which, coincidentally, owns Zellers.  Hmm.

Anyway, the perfume she likes came in a small bottle and a large bottle.  The large bottle was about $100 or so, and I bought the small for about $60.  So the woman behind the counter grabs the bottle from the case, and walks about five feet to my right to where the cash register is.  I stress the five feet away part.

So while she's ringing it in, another employee behind the counter says "Wow, you're on a roll with Tommy Girl today."  

The woman replies, in a way that could not at all be construed as a joke, "yeah, but the guy cheaped out on me and bought the small."  Completely within earshot.

So I say "Excuse me? I what?"

The woman's colleague scatters.

The woman stammers for a few seconds and says "I apologize, sir, I wasn't thinking.  I'm sorry."  

"You think you're sorry now?  Give me five minutes."  And with that I went to Customer Service, got her manager, and told her the story.  The manager was horrified but not surprised.  I never saw that woman in the store again.  

 

I feel kinda bad for all the people you guys are getting fired.

People say stupid shit. Some toothless hag came into my store yesterday asking for a coffee carafe, pronounced CAR-AF-AY. I wondered what the hell she was talking about for a second, and then tried not to laugh.

The other girls had no idea what she was asking for, so after I helped her out I was on my way to explain to my co-workers. Probably was going to trash the trash, but she was still in the isle.

After reading this thread, I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.

On second thought, get me fired. I need a change. ;D

 

I have not for a second felt bad about it.

 

I need to learn to do this kind of thing more often. I just don't seem to have the sack for these kinds of fights, I'm not sure why. Even when there is no doubt about whether or not the person in question needs that 6 pack of STFU.

Several years ago, when my daughter was about one, she had very curly hair. My wife and I are standing in line at the grocery store when the checker looks up and says "that's just criminal, what you did to that baby". My wife and I asked what she meant because we really thought we were being set up for some kind of joke and she replied "making that bab get a permanent so her hair would be curly and it would make you happy"

I had no idea what to say, but 16 years later, I still remember, and I still kick myself for not throwing it right back at her.

 

Well done, HB, well done. The seventh Tasty Cake line is priceless.

About 10 years ago, my wife and I were shopping in Santa Clarita, the upscale, Orange County wanna-be northern suburb of Los Angeles that is 30 minutes down the freeway. Naturally, we made our customary pilgrimage to Trader Joe's, which for the uninitiated, is a store featuring imported foods, wines and beers from all over the world at reasonable to ridiculously cheap prices.

There had been a push to open one in the Antelope Valley since before we moved up there in the early 90s ... to no avail. Apparently, our mushrooming population wasn't upscale enough for the TJ poobahs to put one of their cherished stores in.

I was rudely reminded of this fact as I was dropping $80 on a variety of items. I happened to mention to the clerk that "You really oughta open one of these up in the Antelope Valley. We'd be here every week."

"Oh, those aren't the kind of people we want to serve," he sniffed.

When I got home 45 minutes later -- steam still rising from my head -- I didn't even unpack the car. First, I called the store to find out who the manager of that store was.

Then, I sat down and wrote one of the most artful poison pen letters (I have a talent for this, so much so that my friends have paid me to write letters for them) I've ever scribed to said manager, making sure to point out that "these kind of people" just dropped $80 in his store and also making sure to point out that the VP of Operations and VP of Marketing at their South Pasadena headquarters would be receiving this letter as well.

The upshot of the letter was pointing out that perhaps they don't want "these kind of people" representing their store.

The next day, the manager called my house, apologizing up one side and down the other and saying that "the matter with that employee has been resolved." Corporate-speak aside, he could not have been nicer or more contrite.

Less than a week later, my wife calls me at work and says "You're not going to believe what just came..." Trader Joe's HQ sent us a huge gift basket, complete with wine, cheese, crackers, gourmet meats, candy, flowers, you name it.

Two postscripts to the story: poison pen letters often work and seven years later, we have a TJ's in the AV.

Sit down and write one, Beef. You'll feel better. Trust me.

 

Very nice, Birdscribe.

I also enjoy writing poison-pen letters when a corporation has wronged me in some way. I've gotten a free flight or two from United, a free room at Hyatt and a few free rental cars, new toaster, etc., after having ridiculous problems.

Not that getting something free is necessarily the point, but it's more about not standing for being slighted or wronged.

One thing I recommend when penning a diatribe is cc'ing it to everyone imaginable. If I have a beef with someone, you can bet the Better Business Bureau, U.S. Department of Consumer Affairs, the local board of health (if it is a restaurant), the state attorney general and anyone else who may or may not have a remote interest will also be receiving a copy of my correspondence.

Getting outsiders involved has a way of ensuring the offending company promptly responds.

 

Just as a related aside, you wouldn't believe the shit you can get from companies when you write them really, really nice letters about their products.

I had a friend in college who practically subsisted on this tactic. These company flaks are so sick of hearing complaints, the instant they get a letter filled with praise, they open up the vaults like you wouldn't believe.

The best I can remember happened when my friend wrote whatever company puts out Bazooka Joe gum. He just wrote this nice, short letter that told them how much he liked it, that he had enjoyed it since he was a kid, and that, contrary to popular opinion, he felt that the comics inside were hilarious.

Within a week, a box that was nearly big enough to need two of us to carry arrived, filled with delicious Bazooka Joe.

I also remember Smarties being generous.

Nabisco, not so much. They sent a box filled with sample packs of shit you wouldn't feed a corpse.

But still, it worked pretty well.