Payback is Hell

We were only going to get one of the perfumes that came with a gift, because a friend of ours had just recently started working at the makeup counter of a large department store, and we wanted her to get the credit for a sale. So we drove up to the bigger city north of us and went to the mall.

Erika and I found our friend, and we gleefully exchanged tales of the latest current events, then started looking at the perfumes. At some point in our conversation we asked how her sales were doing and she at first was proud to relate that she had the highest sales figures of anyone that month, but then her face sort of fell as she lowered her voice slightly and whispered, but it doesn’t count.

Turns out, at this particular chain of department stores, if you buy something at Store Y and return it at Store X, the return is taken from the sales figures of the poor fool who had the misfortune of having to wait on your ass at Store X...NOT from the salesperson at Store Y who sold you the product in the first place. And our buddy had logged the most hours at the counter, so a lot of her sales were gone because of these returns.

Not only were we indignant, but we were outright appalled when she continued her story. Evidently, there is one sorry bitch at Store Y that knows this policy and has tweaked it in her favor, by refusing to take a return, period. In some cases, this forces the weak-minded to drive all the way up to Store X and return the item there.

Now, this poses two problems: first of all, that fucking bitch should not be allowed to get away with that; secondly, our new friends at Store X deserved to get their appropriate sale figures back.

So Erika and I discussed this problem at length over a couple beers and formulated a plan.

Later that day, we went back to Store X and purchased ALL of their summer products, which included self-tanning lotions and bronzers of different shades. Erika put it all on her credit card, and off we went down to the other store, after ensuring that The Bitch was indeed at work.

We parked and went inside, looking for the appropriate counter. We knew who she was without even getting a description. She was tall and lean with a severe look about her, as if she had absolutely nothing to smile about, ever, which we would further prove to her that day, and boy did we relish the idea. On the way there we had decided on who would play good cop (Erika) and bad cop (me), and we were both right on cue and perfect for our respective roles.

The snarky bitch, seeing Erika carrying two bags of items, we actually saw her stiffen. And so it began:

Can I help you?

Why yes, I hope so, you see, we were going to have a promotion this week but it’s been cancelled, so I need to return everything.

All of that stuff?

Uh, yeah.

Do you have a receipt?

Yes, here it is. Everything is still sealed, as you can see.

[looking at the receipt] Well, you purchased this from Store X.

Yes, I did, actually… is that a problem?

No, it’s not a problem, it’s just that we don’t take returns from Store X.

[pause] Excuse me?

[blank stare from the Snarky Bitch]

[a little louder but still sweetly] Did you say you don’t take returns from Store X?

[arms now crossed] Yes, that’s what I said.

I’ve returned items to this store before and didn’t have a problem. Is that a new policy?

No, actually, it’s not.

[here’s where I break in and take over] Or is that just your policy? Where is your manager?

He’s in his office…

Then please call him up here.

[eyes rolling] I don’t think that’s necessary, it’s just the way we do business, you have to take your items back to the original store.

[hands on my hips now] Well, I personally have purchased an item here and returned it to that store, without having a problem. So, again, is that your policy?

No, it’s not.

[voice raised] Then you won’t mind getting your manager. NOW.

She gets on the phone without comment, and asks whomever she is speaking to, to come to her counter. We all wait; Erika and I are talking to each other in low voices: how rude the help here is, no wonder Mother won’t come here anymore, for real, and then the manager walks up.

Snarky says nothing. Erika starts her lines again, adding, but she said she doesn’t take returns from other stores.

[manager glances at Snarky] Of course we do, although this is rather a lot of merchandise.

Well, yes, this was going to be quite a large promotion, but it’s been cancelled.

Why don’t you just wait til it’s been reinstated?

[me again now, loudly] Seriously? Are you, too, refusing to take back this merchandise?

Well, no, I’m not refusing to take it back, I’m just…

Wasting our time is what you’re doing. You’re merely wasting our time. Do we need to call YOUR manager?

No, no, now that won’t be necessary…

Then how about let’s get the ball rolling here, we’re on our freakin’ lunch break for Chrissakes.

The manager sighs, gets the receipt from Snarky, picks up both bags, and disappears into a back room near the purses and accessories. Erika and I begin to talk again in low voices, you know I’d heard that this counter wouldn’t accept returns but I didn’t believe it, yeah I’ll never come here again… At which point Snarky decides to pipe up:

That’s probably a good idea.

[me this time] Say what?

That you not come here again.

[Erika and I look at each other, then I say] You know, you got a smart mouth for someone in your position, just a fucking salesgirl.

[raising her pointy eyebrows] I don’t have to listen to this…

Oh yeah you do, that’s your fucking job, and evidently you also seem to think your sorry-ass job entitles you to rape the employees of Store X by making them take all of your returns. What’s the matter? You don’t like it when it happens to you? What horseshit is that?

[Snarky, backing away and sliding out from behind the counter now] If I have to, there’s two people standing over there…

[Rotating my neck sistah-style] Well go get ‘em cause you’re gonna need all the help you can get, Bitch.

She, too, disappears into the back room while Erika and I snicker.

Shortly, the manager comes back with the receipt, Snarky following close behind. This is when I notice she’s taken off her nametag. What.a.fucking.pussy. Typical bully, when you get back in their face they lie down and pee themselves.

The manager is placing the items on the counter, side-by-side, to begin entering them into the register, and to our delight, Snarky’s eyes open wide and she sputters:

But this is all summer stuff!

Did I mention it was Christmas?