Dear Maurices,
Why is it that you (and other clothing stores) seem to require my name, rank, and serial number before you will sell me a t-shirt? When I was living in Canada, I never had to have the following conversation when purchasing clothing:
Well-Meaning Salesgirl: Phone number?
Wahooty: um…<racks brain and eventually comes up with phone number>
W-MS: First and last name?
Wahooty: No.
W-MS: <confused and mildly distressed look> (her manager never told her how to handle this in training) It’s just so we can keep track of…
Wahooty: No.
W-MS: <more distressed> Do you know what it’s for?
Wahooty: I know what it’s for. There is no reason my stores need to ‘keep track of’ anything. I just want to buy my t-shirt in peace. I am a big girl – if I need to return something, I will either find my receipt or suck up the loss. I will not, under any circumstances, just turn over my first and last name and my unlisted phone number. Your corporate marketing team will just have to respect the fact that I like my privacy, and my identity-theft-free existence. Here’s the thing – I pay with a credit card. If you keep records of your transactions, like you are supposed to, YOU ALREADY HAVE MY FULL NAME. IT IS PRINTED ON THE RECEIPT. Why on earth would you have any need to manually enter my identity into your computer for any other reason than for tracking my purchasing habits, which just happen to be MY OWN DAMN BUSINESS.
Okay, so I usually stop around that second sentence. But really, darlings, as though your hard-sell salesgirls weren’t irritating enough. “Do you have a Maurice’s card? How are you doing? Is there anything you’re looking for today? Well, just to let you know, we’re running XXX promotion right now. How did that work out for you? No luck? You’re still just one item away from <insert special promotion>! No seriously, didn’t you want to pad my commission just ONE MORE TINY BIT????”
As far as I can make out, this is the only store in my town that pays on a commission basis. It is also, unfortunately, the only halfway decent place to purchase clothing. But I will suck it up. I will resign myself to driving my ass to Grand Rapids to purchase clothing, and to tolerating the Bitchy Banana Republic Guy because at least I’m not worried about him asking for my social security number the next time I want to buy a scarf. I will not buy anything else from your store.
Even though you make my all-time favorite t-shirt.
It’s over, buddy. Don’t call me, don’t e-mail me, don’t peek inside my window to try to get a glimpse of me naked. And above all, don’t try to sell me a damn thing.
love and kisses,
Wahooty
2 comments:
I sooo want to copy this and paste this on my class' discussion board about CRM systems :-)
It's not customer service, it's fucking stalking. So far I have had to swear off the only clothing store in town, and one of the only shoe stores for this idiocy. I'm about to add New York & Co., but my work wardrobe still isn't as complete as I would like it to be, and they make cheap button-downs in awesome colors, so they have been granted a reprieve.
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