Is Retail an Impossibility??!
So, I know what is expected of me is in fact a nice, community, love everyone post about how seeing old friends makes the heart warm, or some such crap, well in all honesty the founders have encouraged this particular post, and I fully intend to let it rip. So, grammar be damned, and spelling can kiss my butt.
I love the holiday. Nothing is more fun for me than to buy my brother, my mom, and his fiance presents. It is the coolest thing to sort of give that little shot of love over hte bow of consumerism. We are a close family, and in all honesty gifts are a lot like shopping together…”Oh you like that?” MENTAL NOTE, DEWALT IS BETTER. Or sometimes we just buy it right in front of the person. So it goes.
But I love buying gifts, I just do. I like to pick them out, hold them in my hand, interact with the staff at a store, and give them my money. It is a wonderful feeling to do something for someone else. It really is.
So what’s the problem, Dino? What’s gotten under your saddle blanket?
The EASTBAY RETAIL STORE has gotten under my saddle blanket.
So, if you work there, or own the joint, or own stock in the company, that’s fine. If you are the actual kid in question, I am sorry in advance, but you totally have this coming. But honestly, JUST CLOSE THE RETAIL STORE.
The fact is, the retail store is ignored by the company, and a result it has turned into a home for wayward former track standouts who now go to UWMC. It is a store that is really a place for employees to pick up their discounted wares, and the rest of us get lulled into thinking it is a real store when in fact it is not.
Here’s what happened. My younger brother wanted new Nike boots for Christmas, and I was happy to buy them for him. Thrilled, actually. So I went online, found boots on the Eastbay website, and called the store. I knew they would not be in the store, but the guy said they had lots in stock and could PICK them. So, I had the assurance that my boots would arrive in time for Christmas, and my brother would be happy. One gift off the list. I can trust Eastbay; they are a hometown shop, right?
WRONG.
I get to the store, and stand there for 2 text messages on my cellphone, while waiting for ANYONE to approach me to see if I might, you know, WANT SOMETHING. I suppose people often just come in from the cold, but, in this case I wanted something. You know, shoes. I guess you could ask, why not just order them online or through the phone bank. Well, shipping is like 12 bucks, and I LIVE HERE! So why not just pop over, and pick them up? It’s a store, right? When they say they will have something for you, they have it.
Well, FINALLY, Little Jimmy of the Plugged Nose Clan approached. Asked if I wanted anything. I stopped with the Crackberry, and said yes, I ordered some shoes, and would you please see if they are here.
Can I get your name?
So I told him my name. I even spelled my last name. It’s an unusual name for Wausau, so I expected some confusion.
Little Jimmy ambles away. Only to return a few moments later wanting to know how to spell my last name.
I spell my name again for Little Jimmy of the Customers are in the Way Clan.
Little Jimmy hobbles back to the secret retail area of magical arrivals.
I stand there for a few moments, and realize that Little Jimmy of the Let’s Kill Time and See if this Guy Will Leave Clan might not be coming back, so I am forced to look at wind breakers and jackets I am not going to buy. A full 4 minutes later (I wear a watch) Little Jimmy of the Oh Crap He is Still Here Clan approaches again and asks…I am sorry, what was the name again?
Now Little Jimmy of the About to Get Yelled At by A Customer Clan has a look of real terror on his plugged face. So I hand him my card, which has my name WRITTEN ON IT IN ENGLISH. Big Block letters. My name. PROPERLY SPELLED and everything.
So off Little Jimmy of the I Can’t Believe This Old Guy’s Balls Clan rumbles.
Within 30 seconds Little Jimmy returns and says, “Sorry we dont have them.”
And then I am off like an old lady to a bingo night and I say, “Can you check the computer for me?”
Little Jimmy of the Eye Rolling as Aggression Clan rolls said eyes and says sure. We approach the counter, a manager of the Eye Rolling Clan stands there and asks, “Can I help you?” to which I respond, “I ordered some shoes to be PICKED a few days ago, and I want to see if they are still in stock.”
To which I get a dual eye rolling. Little Jimmy hops on the old terminal, and tracks down that there are several hundred of this popular item in stock. So, I inquire, just for fun more than anything at this point, “Then why weren’t they picked when I ordered them?”
To which Little Jimmy of the Exacting Use of the English Language Clan responds with a shrug of his clearly overworked shoulders and a “I don’t know.”
I thought, oh so briefly, about asking Little Jimmy of the Missing the Actual Role of Retail Clan to explain to me about what an order is, and what the function of a store is, and the general concept of supply and demand, and purchasing and selling and the like. But instead I thanked Little Jimmy of the Undeserving of My Thanks Clan for his time, and walked out.
So I have to ask, why do we even bother shopping in stores? In general, yeah, Eastbay sucks, but other stores suck as well. Why do we even bother? So few in these stores have any idea what they are talking about, and so few care. It is like a front business for the Russian Mafia or something 8 out of 10 times. I just want to walk into a store, and have someone who knows something about whatever they are selling talk to me about it.
I confess, I worked in retail once, for one day, and I was that guy. So I quit, and ran away. I knew I had nothing to offer anyone that came in that big box store, so I left. The training was terrible, and I had no idea what I was going to sell, and they handed me a shirt, and cut me loose. And it was the day after Thanksgiving. I literally left in the middle of my time there, and never returned. So I do not work retail, and as a result know little about it.
But, we talk about this internet world, and we lament it. We bemoan the Web 2.0 world and the loss of connection. Well, I wonder why I should venture into a store and buy anything ever again? What is the point if we are faced with Little Jimmy of the Killing Time between Bioshock Campaigns Clan? Little Jimmy, who does not know a training shoe from a race day shoe?
I am sorry, but I have really just sort of had it. Have you had the same thing, or maybe a good experience?
Tom Neal said:
Oh, this could open the flood gates of consumer frustration, letting loose a tsunami of righteous indignation. There’s no shortage. Like the lady at the Home Depot paint department counter who couldn’t understand that I actually wanted a SPECIFIC FREAKING SHADE of a color, not just something only remotely like it! Then there’s the checkout staff of the other hardware plaza, Menard’s, who seem to have all gone through the same training program that stresses the art of expressing your disinterest and apparent disgust with anyone going through your line. But, at least I can unload on these clones and achieve some sort of immediate satisfaction. In Web commerce, I’ve been summarily ignored for days and days as I’ve fired off e-mails requesting delivery confirmation or whatever. Some nameless, faceless drone in New Jersey or New Delhi looks at my e-mails, thinks, “what a pain!” and hits delete. Meantime, they have my money via Mastercard. In our post-industrial, now service-oriented economy, service is an increasingly rare commodity. But, you can find it, and often at homegrown businesses. Evolutions in Design … always nice, always professional. Will’s Heating & Cooling … responsive, accessible, responsible. Alistair Deacon’s … welcoming, personable. Back When Cafe … consistent quality and friendliness. Bottom line: if you have a business, you have a brand, and that brand has a promise attached to it. Either you’re committed to delivering on that promise or you’re not.
December 26th, 2007 at 1:08 pm #
Dino Corvino said:
I hope to hear good stories as well.
December 26th, 2007 at 1:10 pm #
Is Retail an Impossibility??! · Bingo News said:
[…] Original post by Citizen Wausau […]
December 26th, 2007 at 1:43 pm #
Dino Corvino said:
Seriously, Eastbay is like the worlds largest retailer of sneakers I heard, and they cannot get the store right. How is that?
December 26th, 2007 at 3:12 pm #
Tom Neal said:
When you’re the world’s biggest anything, you’re apt to be found lacking where the rubber meets the road. Carrying a cohesive service culture through layer upon layer of corporate management is a feat only the savviest outfits can accomplish. Have you ever been ill-served by a clueless clerk at Starbuck’s? Of course. You may also have had exceptional service at the same place from another person. It’s a crapshoot. Just think of the dweebs that can “rise” to the position of store manager anywhere (or the dreaded assistant store manager). How did they get there? Maybe by being a good little peon with a solid attendance record. Do they really manage their staff and the store’s service model? Face it, we customers are annoying to many of those who feel trapped in their service jobs. I try to never, NEVER think about the people preparing my fast-food happy meals and what axe they might be grinding back there. On the other hand, it’s not infrequent that I enjoy a wonderful service experience with someone who likes people and likes helping them.
December 27th, 2007 at 8:33 am #
Dino Corvino said:
I too, have had a wonderful serivce experience at many local shops. But it appears that the failing of retail across the board is gigantic. Eastbay is a giant retailer, allegedly a HUGE PART OF OUR COMMUNITY, and they treat the community with a sort of disdain.
I remember buying my first pair of Nike shoes, at the Eastbay store that was the store before they moved to the 400 block. It was amazing. Art and Rick talked to me, a 7th grader, for ever about track and pole vaulting, and all the rest. It was intoxicating. I am still a shoe freak because of it.
But, it just is a symptom…where are the tradesmen, the experts, the anything. I remember visiting the shoe maker in my dads old neighborhood, and HE MADE SHOES from scratch.
My grandpa was a blacksmith.
WHO MAKES ANYTHING?
December 27th, 2007 at 1:17 pm #
timothyp said:
Always two sides of a story,
Possibly….
This guy comes into the store, and stands there text messaging on his cellphone so I figure he is busy with something and I give him a minute to finish his electronic conversation, because I’m sure he WANTS SOMETHING instead of just coming in from the cold. You know, shoes. I guess you could ask, why didn’t he just order them online or through the phone bank. Well, shipping is like 12 bucks, and HE MIGHT LIVE HERE! So why not just pop over, and pick them up? It’s a store, right? When we say we will have something for you, we usually have it… not always, but usually.
Well, I finally saw him get off his Blackberry so I (Little Jimmy of the Need To Find A Job That Suits Me Better Next Time Although They Treat Me Well Here Tribe) approached. Asked if he wanted anything. He said yes, I ordered some shoes, and would you please see if they are here.
Can I get your name?
So he told me his name. He even spelled his last name. It’s really not an unusual name, so I expected no confusion… I had no inkling that he would expect any either.
I walked away on my sore feet from doing this everyday for the last 9 days. We are shortstaffed because of the stomach flu going around this time of year.. Only to return a few moments later wanting to know how to spell his last name…. just couldn’t make it out when I wrote it down so quickly … my bad, no excuse for this but sometimes things just happen. I’ll just hurry up and get this guy what he needs.
He spells his name again for me (Little Jimmy of the I’m Nineteen With My First Job, What Do You Expect Me To Be A Perfectionist Right Off The Bat Tribe) for which I am positive I thanked him for .
I hobble back to the back store room that smells like crap from all the nasty shoes that got returned sit until somebody from the next parking lot comes to pick them up. Sort of like a Foot Locker room?
I’m only gone for a few moments, and see him look at wind breakers and jackets he may want to buy, and the new hot blonde chick is in the back up on a ladder….uh what was I looking for?….. oh yeah, this dude’s shoes. Damn, what the hell did I do with that piece of paper with his name….Corvello, Camaro, Corvallis… He’s gonna be pissed but now I have to ask for it again….damn, look at that butt…. what do you all want, I’M A FREAKING NINETEEN YEAR OLD HORMONE FACTORY!
A full 4 minutes later (I saw him check his watch) I, Little Jimmy of the Just Want To Get The Hell Out Of Here and Go Snowboarding Tribe approached him again and politely as I cound asked him …I am sorry, what was the name again?
Now I, Little Jimmy of the About to Get Yelled At by A Pissed Off Customer Tribe probably got a look of real terror on my hope this zit goes away before the weekend face. He handed me a business card, which has his name WRITTEN ON IT IN ENGLISH. Big Block letters. His name. PROPERLY SPELLED and everything. Cool, I should get some of these done up for our band.
So off I, Little Jimmy of the I Can’t Believe This Old Guy’s Balls Tribe rumbled.
Within 30 seconds, I went and checked the shelf where these shoes should have been if they had been properly picked by the set up guy… nothing under C for those shoes…. DAMN! I returned and said to him, “Sorry we dont have them, I looked and they aren’t there.”
And then he goes off like an old lady to a bingo night and says, “Can you check the computer for me?”
I, Little Jimmy of the This Is Really Beginning To Suck Tribe rolled my eyes and said sure. We approach the counter, when my manager that won’t let me have off next weekend even though I have to work these 12 straight days…. stands there and asks, “Can I help you?” to which Mr. Corvino responds, “I ordered some shoes to be PICKED a few days ago, and I want to see if they are still in stock.”
I hopped on the old terminal, and tracks down that there are several hundred of this popular item in stock. So, he inquires faceiously, “Then why weren’t they picked when I ordered them?”
I, Little Jimmy of the Why Can’t This Just Be Over Tribe responded with a shrug of my clearly overworked shoulders and told him “I don’t know.” What I Really Wanted to say was… Why didn’t that lazy ass that was supposed to pick those shoes not do his job and now I have to take this guy’s crap for it…which of course would have gotten me fired and I need the money for Christmas…
etc…
I was in the customer service field for seven long years, and I’m sure that I didn’t help everyone on an equal basis, that’s just part of life. You do the best you can and if the guest is displeased with your service, you wait on the next person and make sure you do your best for that one. Once a mistake is made, the consumer has every right to complain, but it isn’t always the person to which your scorn is given that should be the one recieving it. Then again, maybe it is…..
December 27th, 2007 at 2:11 pm #
Dino Corvino said:
Your right.
I am not blaming Little Jimmy, in fact he had little to do with my shoes not being picked.
But that store does not do a good job.
December 27th, 2007 at 2:19 pm #
Tom Neal said:
Hah .. he called you “this old guy” … hah! That was a good one. Wow. By comparison, I might be called “this walking mummy dude.”
December 27th, 2007 at 2:36 pm #
timothyp said:
I’ve been working on that screenplay for a couple of months and it gets to where I don’t want to write anywhere else… but when I saw what you wrote and it was actually entertaining to me. You busted me up, pal.
I actually didn’t have anything to say because I have shopped there in the past and they aren’t very helpful. I almost was sold a pair of track shoes. Could you imagine me running on a track with these inch long spikes underneath me? If I hadn’t checked what was actually in the box before he bagged them up, I’d have had to go back there to return them which I imagine would be like being circumsized with a spork.
December 28th, 2007 at 9:41 pm #