I live in nowhereville and it seems strange to have instant gratification when I make a pilgrimage to civilization, and can pay for it and carry it with me instead of waiting for the big brown truck to dump it in a box on my front deck…
See, I *LIKE* Brick & Mortar.
*hikes my pants up, and stretched my suspenders with my thumbs* You know, I remember a time when I would go into the (now defunct) Zellers Department Stores, and go to the shoe aisle. The lady would ask me what pairs of shoes I’d like, and I’d point out 3 or 4. She’s then sit me down, and measure my foot, then go and find said shoes in my size, and colour preference. Then I’d walk to the next department and they’d help there too. This was called “Customer Service”. WalMart, Target, etc not one of them have that left.
Last time I had someone help me with shoes, I went into a (chain store that miserably is still in existence but is not the one where the people dress in black and white striped shirts) and I have a wide spread of toes never forced into women’s tight pointy fashion shoes. So the fellow goes to measure my foot and squishes all my toes together TIGHT and rams the little guide thing over. He moves his hands and I flex my toes back out. He squishes them again and rams the little bit over, and I flex my toes back out to like they are normally. He squishes them the third time and this time I flare the toes while he’s trying to squish. “I can’t size you if you don’t let me measure your feet…” I stand up, whip the sock off and put the foot on the carpet. “See that foot, that is how my foot is, not all smashed together.” with exasperation the guy says “If you won’t let me measure your foot I can’t help you…” I picked up shoe and sock and walked out of the store like that, steaming past the manager who was at the counter-she could see I was steamed and holding a shoe and sock in one hand. I called the store back, the guy no longer worked there, and they offered me a half off any pair I wanted if I would come back. I haven’t been in their miserable chain store since (close to 20 years). Had I let him mush my foot he would have tried to put me into a shoe two sizes too narrow and pinching everything… Not all women have spent their life torturing their toes into funny bent positions in the name of fashion, thank you very much!
These days my better half gets help at Wally, as I have to go hunt up the size and width for him. He gets to sit, I fetch… sigh.
Despite what Philip Crosby tells us, quality is not free (nor is customer service).
However, when you get into Crosby’s book, he tells you (I hope: I haven’t read it) that quality pays for itself. (I have read the dust jacket, so that’s the idea I get from it. I’ve read enough of the same that one more won’t make a difference.)
My daughter used to work at a clothing retailer (Ann Taylor Loft) that did a lot of business selling to frugal Midwestern women. She had several customers tell her that they saved money in the long run by buying more expensive, but longer lasting, clothes from Loft instead of the cheap junk from WallyWorld. (Plus it looks better, if you’re mature and not necessarily thin.)
Oh man, too true.
I live in nowhereville and it seems strange to have instant gratification when I make a pilgrimage to civilization, and can pay for it and carry it with me instead of waiting for the big brown truck to dump it in a box on my front deck…
Does the internet know about this place?
Oh man, you have no idea…
Try searching on “brick and mortar must die!”
See, I *LIKE* Brick & Mortar.
*hikes my pants up, and stretched my suspenders with my thumbs* You know, I remember a time when I would go into the (now defunct) Zellers Department Stores, and go to the shoe aisle. The lady would ask me what pairs of shoes I’d like, and I’d point out 3 or 4. She’s then sit me down, and measure my foot, then go and find said shoes in my size, and colour preference. Then I’d walk to the next department and they’d help there too. This was called “Customer Service”. WalMart, Target, etc not one of them have that left.
Last time I had someone help me with shoes, I went into a (chain store that miserably is still in existence but is not the one where the people dress in black and white striped shirts) and I have a wide spread of toes never forced into women’s tight pointy fashion shoes. So the fellow goes to measure my foot and squishes all my toes together TIGHT and rams the little guide thing over. He moves his hands and I flex my toes back out. He squishes them again and rams the little bit over, and I flex my toes back out to like they are normally. He squishes them the third time and this time I flare the toes while he’s trying to squish. “I can’t size you if you don’t let me measure your feet…” I stand up, whip the sock off and put the foot on the carpet. “See that foot, that is how my foot is, not all smashed together.” with exasperation the guy says “If you won’t let me measure your foot I can’t help you…” I picked up shoe and sock and walked out of the store like that, steaming past the manager who was at the counter-she could see I was steamed and holding a shoe and sock in one hand. I called the store back, the guy no longer worked there, and they offered me a half off any pair I wanted if I would come back. I haven’t been in their miserable chain store since (close to 20 years). Had I let him mush my foot he would have tried to put me into a shoe two sizes too narrow and pinching everything… Not all women have spent their life torturing their toes into funny bent positions in the name of fashion, thank you very much!
These days my better half gets help at Wally, as I have to go hunt up the size and width for him. He gets to sit, I fetch… sigh.
Black and white stripes? Uhhh… prison?
KNO3: B&W = Foot Locker.
FFY: WalMart sucks for customer service. Le Sigh.
Wallyworld definitely sucks for customer service.
“Always the low price.”
Despite what Philip Crosby tells us, quality is not free (nor is customer service).
However, when you get into Crosby’s book, he tells you (I hope: I haven’t read it) that quality pays for itself. (I have read the dust jacket, so that’s the idea I get from it. I’ve read enough of the same that one more won’t make a difference.)
My daughter used to work at a clothing retailer (Ann Taylor Loft) that did a lot of business selling to frugal Midwestern women. She had several customers tell her that they saved money in the long run by buying more expensive, but longer lasting, clothes from Loft instead of the cheap junk from WallyWorld. (Plus it looks better, if you’re mature and not necessarily thin.)