I just don't shop at Sears.
The clothes fit funny. The kids' clothes are poorly made, overpriced and not cute. Linens? Nope. Target carries organic sheets and towels that are much nicer. Everything at Sears in the mens' department is pleated; which Bill will be quick to point out, is the male equivalent to an elastic waistband in women's fashion. This is why my mother loves Sears. Pleats and elastic waistbands are the cornerstones of her wardrobe.
Not my point.
My point is that I should have known better. But I did it anyway. I had a coupon for 20% off any pair of shoes with free shipping. How's a bargain huntress supposed to turn that down? Besides, shoes are shoes and I needed new sneaks.
And don'tchaknow? Sears was having a sale on New Balance sneakers. . .my total fave. So I ordered these:
Cute, right? And, at 20% off with free shipping. . .it was totally worth it. Plus, I didn't have to enter a Sears. This is important. Entering a Sears is half the reason Sears is such a terrible place. . .
brings me a box from Sears.
And in this box. . .are these. . .
Clearly not my style. Damn you, Sears.
The packing slip is mine. The receipt is for a woman in Connecticut who apparently has no fashion sense and is hopefully shopping for her husband. The receipt is a printed web page, so half the right side of the page is missing, including any referencing account number.
Damn you, Sears.
The only thing for me to do was to pack both children in the van and head the half hour to my local Sears. Which, you will remember from my previous reference, is the most terrible store to visit.
As soon as you walk in, you have no idea where you are. Because I swear, in a fancy-pants boardroom somewhere, Sears executives literally toss pictures of departments up in the air and where they land marks the layout of the store. Nothing makes sense in Sears.
The women's clothes are next to the jewelry but shoes are downstairs. So are the housewares. But linens are upstairs, right next to the men's neckties. The elevator is no where near the escalator. They post bathroom signs, but when you follow them, you end up in a fitting room. Usually men's. If you try to find a women's fitting room. . .SHAME ON YOU because you shouldn't be trying on anything at Sears in the first place. . .
So we go in. And I'm instantly pissed off because the shoe department is downstairs. I loop around the top floor, finally find the elevator, and some Sears employee cuts me off, gets in the elevator, looks at us and pushes the "door close" button over and over until the doors shut.
Typical.
We get to the shoes. I wait at the register [Side Note: there are 437 registers in every Sears and on any given day, they may or may not be operational. Unfortunately, you won't know until you've been waiting about 22 minutes at one of them for someone to tell you to go wait at another register. Up on the second floor.]. Approximately 22 minutes later (okay, that's a lie, it was about 4, but still. . .) an employee tells me that the register in shoes is not open today, but I can go to any other register in any other department to be helped.
"But I have a shoe exchange," I say. "Will they be able to help me?"
"Uhhh no, ma'am. They won't. But they'll call someone in shoes and either they'll come see you or have you come here."
That makes no sense. I walk away. I'm mad. And nothing has even happened yet.
I go to the men's department (because the only men found in Sears are checking out the lawn mowers so I know there won't be a line) and I tell the girl at the counter my story.
She says I need to go to shoes.
I explain to her that I have already spoken to a nice gentleman in shoes and that we should call him. She does. He comes to the counter. Matilda starts to cry. I tell the two employees that I received the wrong online order. Very simple. Tassels are not my thing. Grey and pink New Balances on sale with free shipping is my thing. And can I have them?
They tell me to go back to shoes (breathe, Erika) and see if they have the sneakers I wanted in stock and in my size. Of course they do not. They do, however, have these cutie patooties. . .
These shoes are more expensive than the ones I ordered. But you know what? I'm sick of you, Sears. And to get you out of my life and to teach myself a lesson, I'll pay the difference. Besides, these are cuter than the ones I ordered and damn me for not seeing these on the website. . .so I find my size, try them on and take them back to the men's counter. . .
When I get there, the two employees have called a manager over to deal with me. The manager is on the phone and I hear him say, "Oh fantastic. That's no problem, the customer will wait another 7 to 10 days. Thanks again." I hope he's not talking about me. . .
"Well, come to find out, you don't have my size in the sneakers I ordered but I like these and can pay the difference if we do an exchange," I say to the group.
The manager tells me we cannot. Because he reordered my sneakers and that I will get them in 7 to 10 days. . . .by FEDEX! If I'd like to wait the 7 to 10 days, I can bring the shoes back to the store and do an exchange then. It's bad enough I don't get to see my UPS guy, but why wouldn't they want the extra 20 bucks for my shoe upgrade? This is absolutely insane.
If Matilda wasn't coming unglued at this point and if I had a few more minutes to spend with the fine folks at Sears, I would have demanded a refund and bought the shoes somewhere else in the mall. But I was tired. And my feet hurt. 'Cause ummm . .I DON'T HAVE SNEAKERS.
And this is why I will never shop at Sears again.
Suppose the trip to the mall wasn't a total loss. I did end up taking the kids to Starbucks, where I had a beautiful iced caramel macchiato and split a muffin with Cole. Matilda calmed down and I sat, sipping my macchiato and practicing my deep breathing exercises until the urge to completely flip out subsided.
I'll let you know when I get my shoes.
1 comment:
Oh dear! I am never shopping there. I don't even want to step foot into a Sears now.
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