Patti (whipartist) wrote,
Patti
whipartist

Another satisfying Fry's experience

Yesterday I made a run down to the Palo Alto Fry's. I needed to return a defective labeler and pick up a big hard drive for a machine I'm rebuilding.

Fifteen minutes after I get there I've gotten through the return line, and another 20 minutes later I've picked up everything I need and I'm standing in front of a typical Fry's cashier.

It only takes five minutes for her to figure out what to do with the store credit issued in step 1 above, and I pay for the rest in cash. I even make it out the door without being hassled by the receipt-checking nazis.

An hour and a half later I'm back in Oakland and pushing around a cart full of groceries at Albertsons when my phone rings. It's hard to understand the person at the other end, but I eventually manage to figure out that it's the cashier from Fry's calling me, and that she thinks she might have forgotten to give me my change. In retrospect I think she's right, but she's not certain and will call me back after she counts the drawer, but could I please come back over there?

No, in fact, I can't... I'm 45 minutes away, I have a bunch of refrigerated food in front of me, I'm tired, and there's no fucking way I'm driving back down there tonight for $11.15. She calls me back 20 minutes later to tell me that her drawer was in fact over, and that if I come back down there Sunday the money will be waiting for me.

I ponder trying to explain to her that it's not worth my driving across town (including crossing a bridge and paying a $2 toll) for eleven whopping bucks, but decide that I don't speak whatever her native language is well enough to make myself clear.

Sunday morning dawns and I discover that I have the wrong firewire cable for something else that I'm doing, so another trip to Fry's isn't entirely unreasonable.

When I get there I go to the customer service desk, explain my problem, and get the standard too-much-inbreeding Fry's employee dumb look. "I think you have to go to the cashier, but I've never heard of that." I grab the necessary adapter and head for the cashier line.

"Number 24 please."

Mr. 24 seems entirely puzzled by my change, and sends me down to Number 17. Mr. 17 is no more adept at handling the problem. "You need a supervisor." One is called. He also has no clue. "Do you have your receipt?" I do not.

After a few minutes of them being thoroughly puzzled, somebody who knows what's going on shows up, and finds the store credit that they've issued me. They never ask for any identification, but do ask me to sign the credit.

The credit is for $11.15, and the adapter that I'm buying is $6.99 plus tax, which causes a new and even more challenging problem-- they have to give me change. This doesn't seem like it should be too big a deal since stores manage to do this every day, but apparently it is. It takes another three minutes or so to sort out the change thing, and eventually I'm on my way.
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