Friday, May 14, 2010

my Crazy Yesterday ramblings

First off, let me tell you something: Target does not care about you. Yes, that sweet elderly woman who checked you through might remember your face. Yes, that person in red and khaki with a walkie talkie will tell you to step over to this lane. 
But any higher in authority than that, and they DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOU. 
I know, I know, not any big surprise. 

And here is why I know this:
Yesterday I visited the Target store at Higgins and Meacham Roads in Schaumburg, IL. And was implicitly accused of trying to rip them off for a dollar. 
Yes. One. Dollar. 
I was mortified. Yes, my cashier (lets call him James) was a gentleman who perhaps rode the short bus to school. But I doubt that excuses the two other employees involved who were rather rude to me.  
Basically, James forgot to give me my change. No big deal-I simply smiled and asked 'May I please have my dollar in change?'
James looks at me flllaaatly and says, 'I gave it to you.'
Not, 'Oh, I'm sorry, one second.' 
Or, 'Oh, of course, my mistake.' Or ANYTHING like that. He gave an exasperated look to the woman standing behind me in line, as if SHE would have anything to say about it. Then he looks to another employee (lets call him Gareth because he looks like Gareth from the Office). 
I then smile and say, holding out my empty hands, 'No, I'm sorry, you didn't. I swear.' *gringringrin*
Gareth sighs and mutters, 'Well, it isn't that much...'
I say to Gareth, 'You know, if its a PROBLEM, then don't worry about it.'
Yet another cashier (lets call her Falana) says, 'Just GIVE it to her.'
Like I was making a scene. Which I wasn't. I work retail. I waited tables through most of my twenties. I know that people try to rip you off. People are jerks sometimes, which is why I treat retail employees with respect. Always. A smile, a genuine thank you, eye contact. Something that shows you see them as a person and not a machine. It matters. James opens his drawer and gives me a dollar without another word. 
I leave, muttering. My passive-agressive side calls the store as I am leaving the parking lot. And emails the company later that day. 
Now, I must admit, I WAS sort of expecting some sort of compensation for my experience. I generally don't. GENERALLY I chalk it up to life lessons and move on. But for some reason this time I wanted something. I wanted someone to give a shit and give me something for nothing. Maybe that is because I was pretty shaken by the experience. I have a pretty high tolerance, and I was really almost in tears yesterday. So yeah, I wanted someone to say, 'Oh man, I'm sorry. Here-have this free something from this huge skrajillion dollar company because we give a damn about our customers.'

And nobody did. Lesson learned. Maybe I won't shop at Target anymore. Naaaah. But I for DAMN sure will never go back to THAT location. Bastards. But I'm on to them.

Later that day Milo murdered his goldfish Ponyo 2 while I was in the water closet. Oh my. Like, reached in the bowl and took it out and (I think) smooshed it. 
I really wish I could transfer the mental photograph I have of his face when I returned to the living room to the interwebs to share with all. 
But I was too busy freaking out to grab the camera. 


  1. Do you think the cashier was trying to make some money on the side?

    Definitely a strong argument for paying with plastic instead of cash.

  2. What's with the "Your comment will be visible after approval." thing?

  3. Dima, I have this set so that I can choose whether or not to publish comments. Its nothing personal :-)