(Psssst—well, of course there was hanky panky going on between the pilots on the flight that overshot the Minneapolis airport by about 150 miles. It is called the cockpit, isn’t it? Oh, that’s so naughty of us. Why does Joyceland bring out such naughtiness?)
TRUE CONFESSION: We have turned into a serial returner. We enjoy the fine art of browsing very much. We don’t buy too many things online because we really enjoy browsing, looking around, smiling at the sales people, and then buying. Buying and returning. Buying and returning. Buying and returning. It’s a part-time job.
Here is something that happened to us that really hurt our feelings. We’d been out shopping at that French store, Wal-Mare. We know a lot of people who have strong feelings against Wal-Mare, but it’s the only place where you shop and see significantly handicapped employees. We believe that employing all types of people with differing ability levels is the right thing to do. That’s one of the reasons we used to like Wally-Mare–until they hurt our feelings, that is.
Anyway, the day we got our feelings hurt we had our list and loaded up our cart–dish soap, laundry detergent, toilet paper. We bought about eight bags worth, loaded up the trunk, and went on our merry way zooming down the road like Cruella de Vil . . .
As we made a left hand turn to get on the freeway, our trunk, which hadn’t closed properly, flew open and all purchases flew out onto the road. We didn’t see it happen, but a lady in the car next to us gestured wildly to let us know something crappy was happening to our car.
We pulled over to the side of the road and ran out to retrieve what we could while dodging in and out of traffic. Most of the items had busted open, blown away, or were skid marked. It was B-A-D. The receipt was long gone. And we looked like a real idiot running around trying to recover all our stuff. Like we were cuckoo for cocoa puffs. Wind whipping, light drizzle, running in circles . . . you get the picture.
One item had cost over $100 and when we got home we found out it wasn’t right so we went back to return it. With our receipt having blown all the way to Wyoming by now, all we had was the item and our sad, sad, story. We told the Wal-Mare customer service lady, who was not very French at all, what happened. She looked at us like we had just flown in from Mars. And this was the part that really hurt our feelings: she told us that she would take the $100 item back, but that we were BANNED FROM RETURNING ANYTHING TO WAL-MART FOR AT LEAST A YEAR. Banned!! Have you ever been banned from returning stuff to Wal-Mart? It’s embarrassing. It knocks your self-esteem way down. It makes you feel like loser. BANNED FROM WAL-MART! Might as well put one of their smiley face stickers on our forehead:
WARNING: THIS WOMAN HAS EXCEEDED THE RETURN LIMIT WITHOUT A RECEIPT AT WAL-MART AND SHE IS BANNED FROM FUTURE RETURNS. P.S. We no longer call it Wal-Mare, the French store.