I'm a Cheap Bastard: CONFIRMED!

So I went and returned the cheap-ass laptop today.

One of the many jobs I have had in my life was working customer service for a major electronics retailer. I won't mention the name, but it starts with a "C" and rhymes with Nurcuit Nity. Retailers lose a LOT of money on returned laptops, as there's almost no markup. Because of that I knew I had to have my game face on and prepare for a fight. I had what I was going to say, the reason for the return, what was the problem, was there any damage, did I pee on it, how much porn was on it, etc.

I walked in and was immediately yelled at by the WalMart geriatric ward. "You returnin' that?" I spun around and said yes to the 90-something guy hunched over a basket filled with smiley-face stickers. He then proceeded to write something down on a small orange piece of paper. "What's dat dere?" pointing at the box. Ok, maybe his vision was going. "A laptop," I said, lifting up the box to show. He looked down the checklist on the orange paper, looked at the box, the paper, the box, the paper, etc. He got the same look on his face as my grandpa used to while looking at the crossword puzzle. It was the appearance of someone trying to do long division in their head while juggling chainsaws. He took the box from me and turned it over, peering at each face of the box very carefully, and then looking at the receipt I timidly handed to him. Looking up at me again, he asked, "What is this again?" I pointed at the large picture of the PC on the front, and said, "A... laptop?" not sure if I had to explain the concept of this new-fangled technolomagy to Fred (I finally took a look at his name tag in case I ever saw him wandering the streets looking for the cat he had when he was 5). He finally gave up and scribbled "laptop" at the bottom of the paper and dismissed me by waving his hand towards the second airlock door. I took the box and backed away carefully, in case he was skittish.

Ok, SHOWTIME! Got my story straight in my head, waited for them to call me up from the imaginary line on the floor, and got ready for the questions. "I want to return this," I said assuredly, like I was speaking in front of Congress as I rested the box on the counter.

Nothing.

The minimum-wage girl opened the box, glanced in and started processing the return. The only thing she asked me was to see the credit card I used. If I wasn't this awesome guy I am, I could TOTALLY take advantage of Wally World, if this is the process for returns.

But I am a nice guy, so I took my receipt with the $534.24 credit, and sauntered out into the heat of the afternoon with a fabrication of an unused excuse hanging heavy on my back. If only she would have asked questions, the burden of those words would not be walking out with me.

As I unlocked my car, I saw a lady walking past me towards the store. "It didn't have the capabilities I needed!" I yelled as I stepped in my truck, and drove away.


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SIDE NOTE: My griping has paid off. I got a tablet PC from my company today left over from someone that quit three months ago. And I am NOT letting this one out of my sight. In fact, it's right here nex.... Well, I'm sure it's in my apartment somewhere.