Category: default || By jt3y

Rip Rense regularly writes about his "Less Than Satisfying Encounters With Humanity," describing his tangles with nasty retail clerks. Subdivided Bob recently wrote about restaurants where the credo seemed to be: "Eat What's In Front of You and Shut Up."

I guess I lead a charmed life, because I have more good experiences than bad ones. On the other hand, when the bad experiences happen, they're doozies.

The other day a good friend called. I'll call him "Dan," because that, in fact, is his name. His car had broken down --- dead battery --- and he needed a ride to a certain department store to return it. I won't mention the name of the store, or their well-known, nationally-advertised car batteries, but suffice to say, when this battery died, it died hard.

Ahem.

Anyway, Dan got into my car, with his battery and a letter from the main office of the department store chain; for convenience, let's call it "Broils." "I hope there isn't a problem," he said. "It was recalled a while ago, but I never got around to taking it back."

I read the letter. It was pretty straightforward: "Because of an unusually high number of complaints about this battery, we have decided to recall all of them from use. At your earliest convenience, please return it to your nearest Broils location. We will exchange your battery for a Premium Gold battery and refund the difference in your purchase price."

The letter was undated. "When did you get this?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's been more than a year. But the battery came with an eight-year warranty." It was some sort of a fancy-pants battery with a built-in security alarm; they were being recalled, apparently, because the electronic controllers were going haywire.

Well, then. It seemed pretty cut and dried to me. Battery has an eight-year warranty that isn't even half-expired; store recalls it and offers an exchange and a refund. Should be a slam-dunk.

A-ha! But would I be tediously chronicling it on my Web page if it were?

Dan went into the automotive department at Broils; I followed, figuring I'd pay off my charge card while he was being waited on. There were other customers standing around, waiting for their cars to be repaired.

He approached the sales clerk, and put the battery on the counter, but before he opened his mouth, she accosted him.

"What's that? We don't sell those batteries any more."

"I know," he said. "I received this recall notice. I'd like to return it."

"Oh, no. That's an old battery. Don't go bringing in some old battery that we don't even sell any more and trying to return it."

"But I have this letter that says I'm to return it, and receive a new battery."

She snatched the letter from his hand and skimmed it before tossing onto the counter. "How do I know this letter is even real? It doesn't even have a date on it."

"Would you read the letter? It says right here ..."

"I can read," she snapped.

"OK, I'd like to see a manager then."

"I am the manager." (Obviously, she had been promoted based on her customer service skills.)

Dan paused a beat. "Then I'd like to see the store manager."

"The store manager is gone for the day. Come back tomorrow."

"No, I won't. I think you'd better get someone higher in authority than you down here."

She snorted. "Fine. You'll just have to wait until I wait on these customers who actually want to spend money."

Let me just pause here to say that the department store in question has been the subject of a number of lawsuits regarding its auto repair division. Customers and state attorneys general have alleged that it performs unnecessary repairs, charges for work that was never done, or bills for excessive amounts of labor. In my experience, the parts and supplies on sale are notoriously over-priced.

All this is my way of saying that the treatment we were receiving shouldn't have shocked me. Still, this kind of behavior --- in front of other customers, no less --- was astoundingly brazen. I could see some of the other people in the waiting room staring at us. At some point, another clerk came out to wait on them --- presumably to keep them from focusing their attention on the little drama that was being performed in front of their eyes, lest they question their own bills.

After making us wait 20 minutes or so, the sales clerk --- I will call her Miss Management, which seems nicely descriptive --- grabbed the recall letter again and said she was going to "call the main office." She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and asked some questions.

"I have a customer here who doesn't have a receipt, he has some letter he says he got in the mail about a recall on this car battery ... it's a model number ABC-123 ... right ... well, we don't sell them any more. OK. Fine. Thanks."

She hung up the phone, and with a self-satisfied smile, turned back to Dan. "They told me it's up to me, and I'm not taking this battery back. You waited too long. Plus, you don't have a receipt."

"Where does it say I waited too long? Show me in that letter where it says this recall expired. And you can look up my receipt."

She punched up his name on the computer; sure enough, the battery purchase was there. Next to the item number was a boldface warning: "RECALL. DO NOT SELL." Now we knew the recall was real.

The original list price was about $140, plus tax. The most expensive battery on sale --- the "Premium Gold" the store's letter promised --- was about $70. They'd be out $70 cash, plus the new battery, if they honored the letter --- which, of course, they were legally obligated to do.

"This is all about her commission," I whispered to Dan while Miss Management's back was turned. "If she gives you back the money, it comes out of her commission."

She turned back to Dan: "Well, you waited too long. That battery's almost four years old."

"No, it isn't. I bought it in 2001. Plus, it's warranteed for eight years. It's not even out of warranty yet."

Miss Management threw up her hands. "I don't need to deal with your mouth. You want to talk to the customer service manager? Fine." She stomped off into a back room. When she came back, two big mechanics wearing greasy overalls stood in the doorway behind her, arms crossed, staring at Dan and me.

The implication was clear: Talk back again, and these two goons were going to try and intimidate us. Amazing.

It's worth noting that Dan was handling things remarkably professionally --- in fact, his voice never rose above conversational tones. If it had been my battery, and my money, I would have been ranting and raving like Daffy Duck by now.

At this point, we had been waiting about 40 minutes. I walked off to make my credit payment. When I got back to the auto department, another woman was walking in, carrying a walkie-talkie and wearing a manager's badge.

Her nametag proclaimed that she was the manager of customer service. That was kind of funny, that Broils would have a manager of customer service, because it was clear to me that the store serviced its customers much the same way a bull does a cow.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked Miss Management.

"This guy" --- Miss Management said, gesturing at Dan --- "brought in this battery, which we don't even sell any more, and some cockamamie letter, and he wants a new battery and a refund, and I called the main office, and they told me it was up to me, and I said no. Now he wants to see a manager, and I don't have time to deal with this. There are paying customers here."

Of course, Dan had been a paying customer when he bought the battery that turned out to be defective. The nerve he had, expecting the merchandise to work as advertised!

The customer service manager looked at the letter. "Let me make a few phone calls and find out what's going on," she said, and went back into the office. The goons continued to glare at us. I glared back.

I kept my mouth shut the whole time. Not an easy thing for me to do, as my friends will attest. The customer service manager came back to the desk. We had been in the store for more than a hour by now.

"I just talked to the home office," she said. "You didn't live up to some of the conditions in this recall. It says here that you're supposed to bring in the car that the battery was installed in. Is the car here?"

"No, it's at home," Dan said.

"Well, then see, you're not meeting the terms of the recall."

"You didn't install the battery in the car in the first place," he said. "I carried it out with me. It says so right on the invoice."

Indeed, it did: "CUSTOMER TOOK WITH."

"Well," the customer service manager said, "anyway, you don't meet the terms of the recall, because the car isn't here."

"Let me get this straight," Dan said. "You want me to take this dead battery home, install in back in the car, and have the car towed up here, and then you'll replace the battery?"

"Don't get smart with me," she said. "We're willing to give you another battery, but we're not giving you the refund. Also, your warranty will start from the day you bought the original battery, because you waited so long."

"Isn't the warranty on the battery, not on the sale?" Dan said. "The warranty on the new battery should start the day you give it to me, not in 2001. You're cheating me out of three years of warranty."

"Well, the fact is, you don't meet the conditions of the recall," she said. "You don't have the car ..."

Now I lost it, and interrupted. "Look, I'm the guy who drove him up here after his car broke down. If you aren't going to honor the terms of your own recall and warranty just because he didn't have the battery installed by your store, then you shouldn't have sold it to him in the first place."

"Besides," Dan said, chirpily, "I'm saving you money by not making you install it for me."

More customers were watching us now, including some that had been there since the beginning, 60-odd minutes earlier.

"This is ridiculous," I said. "I've been a customer here since I was 16 years old, and I've never seen any store treat any customer like this."

Then I turned to Dan, and said --- loud enough for both her and Miss Management to hear --- "You have an excellent complaint here for the attorney general's Office of Consumer Protection. I'll help you file it, if you want to."

They eyed me warily.

"I don't want trouble," he said. "I just want them to live up to the terms of the letter."

"Well," the customer service lady said, "this letter isn't dated. And it isn't signed. You expect us to honor the terms of a letter that isn't signed or dated?"

"It's sent on Broils' letterhead, in one of Broils' envelopes," I said, finally losing my patience and raising my voice. "If it was so important to Broils that the letter be signed and dated, then maybe Broils should have signed and dated it, huh?"

The customer service lady looked at me.

She looked at Dan.

She looked at the letter.

She looked at Miss Management. "Do everything it says in this letter. Give him the new battery. And the cash. And the new warranty."

Miss Management went --- to put it politely --- stark-raving bonkers.

"I'm not giving him almost $70 out of my commission for some old battery for some letter he brought in that for all I know he printed himself!" she yelled. I kicked Dan. "I told you," I hissed.

"Take it out of the (so-and-so) account," the customer service lady said, "and just label it a return." She turned to Dan. "But we're not going to do this ever again."

"Why would I want to?" he said. "I can only return the battery once. I just want you to honor the letter you sent."

"Fine," Miss Management snarled, "but you can just wait until everyone else is gone."

And she did, in fact, make us wait. The goons left. The customer service lady left. All of the customers but one --- a little old lady waiting for her car to be finished --- left. I took another walk through the store to work off some of my aggravation.

It was almost closing time before Miss Management got a replacement battery for Dan and rang up the return.

And then --- wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles --- her attitude became sweetness and light as she attempted to sell him an upgrade and an extended service plan.

Dan demurred. I can't imagine why.

"I'm sorry about all the problems," Miss Management said, smiling. "But you have to realize there are all sorts of scams out there."

Yes, I thought, and your store is committing them.

As we headed for the exit --- cash, new battery and warranty in hand --- the little old lady came over and stopped us. "Young man," she asked Dan, "are they going to honor the letter?"

"Yep."

"And did she give you your money?"

"Yep."

The lady winked. "Good for you. I'd have fought them, too."

And what was written above the exit, in gold leaf, no less? Why, the Broils motto, set down by Mr. Broil more than 100 years before: "Satisfaction Guaranteed or Your Money Back."

Ironic? Not really. Because in fairness, they only promise "your money back" --- they don't promise it will be easy.

I almost forgot. During one of my little strolls through the store's waiting room, I discovered a bulletin board displaying letters of praise from Broils auto department customers.

Next to it were framed copies of the store's sales tax license, its state inspection license, and its state emissions license. They listed the names of the auto department manager and the district manager of Broils.

Do you think those two people are getting a letter from me?

You bet your life.

The real question is: Will they display the letter in the waiting room with the others?