Jeers! A shopping exerience review

Last post I gave some reviews to people who when above and beyond to provide a wonderful customer experience. Now I have experienced a rudeness I have never before experienced as a shopper. I was told by a Ross Store Employee that she was not part of customer service and didn't need to stand there and listen to the customer's smart remarks.

I'll back up a bit to give you the full experience. I don't normally shop at Ross, it's not a place I usually think of and they don't normally have anything I like in my size. I only went because I was given a gift card as a Christmas present a few years ago and it still had $50 on it. I was hoping to find maybe a blouse or 2 for work and a new pair of shoes. Again I didn't find anything clothes wise that I liked. I did find a pair of shoes and a nice handbag. My husband found a Faberware 6 inch cleaver for $6.99. I went to the front with my purchases and my husband went to wait outside because he doesn't like crowds and the line wasn't long it just wasn't moving.

They had 2 lanes open. Both were slow, it turned out one was waiting for a manager to respond to get change to finish a transaction. The other was just slow. Now the lady in front of me seemed to have the same idea I had and didn't want to commit to either lane, directly next to each other, until we saw one actually move. The slow lane kept saying that she was open and we could stand in her lane because she was "confusing people" on how the lines worked.

Eventually, the lady in front of me went to the "slow lane" other lane still waiting to even ask for change (10 minutes have elapsed at this time and I was only 3rd in line), the slow lane cashier proceeded to scold the lady about not committing to a lane. The lady gently said she didn't want to chose just yet and she was waiting like at a bank to see which lane opened first before she made her choice. The cashier said "this isn't a bank this is Ross and that's not how it works here" The lady finished her transaction and went and complained to the manager. The cashier started bitching loudly to the other cashier about customer complaining. I said to her quietly, that she was rude to her by assuming she didn't know how a line worked and that both lanes were moving slowly, no one was inconvienced by waiting to choose the open lane. She then went off on me about how she wasn't part of customer service and didn't need to listen to customer's smart remarks.

I told her she was most certainly part of customer service because her service was to ring up my transaction that was part of the sales that was employing her. And possibly if she didn't feel that she should interact with the public maybe she should find a different position. She went on to "school" me about what was and wasn't part of her job and that it was not to listen to stupid customers. At this point I told her to have a very nice day and I went to find a manager.

This store manager could not be found but I found someone who claimed was a manager as well just part of the warehouse management. I told him my experience and that the other customer had also complained about her "special treatment" by this cashier. I truly don't expect much when it comes to helpful service. I don't even expect pleasant. I would prefer to be completely ignored and just have the total pointed at on the register than told that I had smart remarks or that I was a stupid customer.

I still have $9.50 on that gift card. I'm conflicted about if I'll bother using it. On one hand, I hate to waste the money. On the other I really never want to go there again. I will tell anyone who listens Ross Stores they may dress you for less but the cost savings come at the cost of being treated poorly and rudely.

Reviews

I want to send some good reviews out there for some wonderful people, services and experiences I've had recently.

The first one is for the Blue Cafe in Downingtown, PA. I had my wedding here a few months ago and it was a wonderful experience. The owners worked with my now husband and I about getting everything just the way I wanted it.



The Blue Cafe in Downingtown is a fabulous breakfast and lunch bistro. They have inspired entrees, soups and salads. They make an amazing Chai Latte. If you are ever in Chester County, Pennsylvania stop by the Blue Cafe.

I also want to thank my Photographer, Bridget Armbrust. Bridget did an amazing job and truly captured the spirit of the day. My colors were Pink, Orange and Blue she did an amazing job of showing the vibrant colors of the day! Check out her website we are in the wedding gallery!

Have a super day everyone!

Why did I teach them to talk?

I have two children. The oldest is my 14 year old daughter and my youngest is my 11 year old son. They are either best friends and giggle their fools heads off or they bicker. It's the bickering that I can't stand. They bicker about anything. Right now I'm listening to them bicker about who does more chores and who does them right. I had to ask them to stop bickering long enough to wish my mother a happy birthday.

It's days like today that I wonder why did I delight so much in teaching them to talk and form sentences? When they were cooing and babbling infants just formulating syllable patterns it was just so cute. Now they don't stop talking. The older one talks or rather texts all day long. Thankfully, we have unlimited texting but goodness that number on the bill summary is high.

My son talks at everyone. And just doesn't stop talking. He is a little expert on dinosaurs, pokemon, bakugan, and beyblades, He also will talk at great lengths about Greek myths and mythical creatures. I really do cherish how smart he is and how much he reads but sometimes I just want some quiet. And what would really wow me is if he would every once in a while give me a real opinion from himself and not what he read. Some of these symptoms are why I thought he had Aspberger's. But according to the doctor's it's AD/HD.I'm never sure how I feel about that diagnosis. But the therapies and meds help. Ultimately, he feels better about himself because he is able to control himself during school.

I suppose the real reason I taught them to talk was to hear them say, "I love you, Mommy". So it was a completely selfish reason I wanted them to talk and it's a completely selfish reason why I want them to stop. I guess what I'm struggling for is the balance. I don't have that yet.

How come?

How come I had all these ideas for writing before I started a blog and now writer's block? I really can't think of anything to say that I think is good enough to write and put out there in the universe. While I know I'm more that likely talking to myself nothing I think of is good enough.

This is why I come up with ideas for novels and stories but then never write the down and actually follow it through. Like my last post seemed like a really good start but then I have no idea where it's going. That one will just keep on peculating in the back of my mind until I decide where it goes. I may abandon that story all together and start another. Instead of my creative writing blog this will be my starts and stops blog of half thought out ideas.

At least the ideas may stop whirling around in my head if they are written down somewhere and not sitting having tea in my head.

Now that still leaves us here....blocked about what to write down next. Where does this go...further thought where do I go, where am I going? Treading water keeps you surviving but doesn't solve the problem. We all have problems. We all tread water. I truly admire people who rarely tread water and just start swimming towards shore. I think my metaphor is going on way too long.

But don't we all know someone or have heard of someone that just rolls up their sleeves and gets to work instead of fretting and wringing their hands woe is me attitude. I want more of a solution oriented attitude. I have it to an extent but I'm not very good about coming up with unique out of the box ideas. I hate it the most when we are in the boardroom and having our weekly meeting at work and the boos turns and says any ideas to get the budget back on track and I just sit there hoping no one makes eye contact with me. It's not only that I have no ideas but I go so blank I can't even think of my name or what's even on my agenda for the day. I believe that the squeaky hamster wheel sound in my mind is completely audible to the whole room.

I don't think it's anxiety, I think it's more I'm just not original enough to come up with those kinds of ideas. I think what I really want to know is what is my natural ability. Those talents we were all told we had in elementary school as the reason why we needed to keep trying things. The hidden ones. I think all of my talents may be hidden,at least the profitable ones.

Desperate people do desperate things

If only she could think past getting through the next few minutes, maybe it would have turned out differently. Lying didn't come as naturally as it had in the past. She tried anyway to stay calm and say everything with confidence. If you believe it's true, they will believe it too. Determined to get out without drawing much more attention to herself she explained to the clerk that she was simply looking for a cart or basket by the door. She was just holding her planned purchases in her bag because they had become too cumbersome. It was obviously the store's fault they didn't make the shopping bags more accessible throughout the store. She will never shop here again after this indecent accusation and experience.

She was hoping to make the manager uncomfortable enough he would let her leave and he wouldn't find the foil and duct tape lined pockets in her jacket with four digital cameras in them each. She had to play it just right, cooperative but disgusted and above it all or he's going to just call the cops. Bringing the cops into it just brought more problems and probably at least a night in jail. Then she'd have to call her parents again to get the kids from the house before CPS arrived to find them home alone.

At least she'd managed along this far without formal CPS investigations. Hassles, all hassles, they really didn't need to get involved she was in control. Why couldn't anyone see that? This mess today was only because she wanted to be a good mom. Sure good moms don't run around ripping off the tech store but good moms pay the rent, the electric bill and put food in the house.

She didn't really have a plan past getting something she could sell. Probably try to sell the cameras on one of those auction websites or a pawn shop. She had done well enough selling everything she had worth anything to sell. There always seemed more bills and debt then the unemployment check she got from being laid off nearly a year ago could provide. She needed to focus on here and now to get home free.

The manager was starting to cave, he knew he was supposed to follow protocol. He was supposed to call the cops to sort out all shoplifters. But maybe she was telling the truth it was busy today and they were short handed again. There weren't any shopping baskets in the racks they were piling up by the register. He started to apologize to the lady for the misunderstanding and told her he hoped that she would understand they needed to suspect everyone.

She did it. He was letting her go. She was going to get away with it. Trying to hold on to her excitement about getting away, she still needed to concentrate on getting through those doors. She told him that he could keep his apologies she wasn't going to buy anything here again and everything was overpriced anyway. She shoved the merchandise she tried to slip into her bag back towards him, yanked her large handbag off the counter. She swung around to leave. Walking straight to the door, out to freedom. She got into her car, put it in gear and drove away.

She did it she pulled off her first heist. The guilt and realization started to set in. She asked herself, who is the wild-eyed girl staring back at her in the rear view mirror? She didn't even know anymore. The last few years have been such a roller coaster. And she had been going down fast. She was trying to keep her white knuckled hold on the stability and control over her life.

Lost in her thoughts she didn't noticed the light changed. She slammed into the side of the landscaping truck. She lost conscientiousness when her head hit the steering wheel and the air bag deployed.

Waking up to the gentle beep of the heart monitor in the hospital, she tried blinking her fuzzy vision away and tried to get her bearings. She heard parents talking in hushed voices just far enough away not to clearly hear what they were saying. She heard words like totaled, jaws of life, physical therapy. She allowed herself to slip back to sleep not wanting to answer questions or have hers answered. She knew enough she had hit bottom.

But how do you know you're a grown up?

I could name many parts of daily responsible adult life to be considered a milestone of my realization that I'm a grown up. Every day I don't choose ice cream for breakfast is a clear sign of my maturity. Mail no longer holds wonderment and excitement for me, I even stream my Netflix on my TV so I don't even look forward to that anymore. The first time I realized summer wasn't a vacation it was just another work day, is also a harsh realization that childhood was over. I think it was when I stepped into the time honored tradition of writing notes to the teacher, I officially realized I am the grown up.

My father was great at crafting the perfect note to the teacher. Having a proud last name at the end of the alphabet holds certain challenges. Teachers being naturally orderly people like to alphabetize. So year after year, teacher after organized teacher my siblings and I found ourselves in the back of the classroom, at the end of the line, last to choose a soft pretzel at snack time. My brother had enough he complained to my father. My brother was tired of being left only the shriveled slimy soft pretzels after his whole class got to choose their perfect pretzels first. My father tired after working all day and tired of hearing this complaint day after day wrote a note to my brother's teacher.

The note was short and simple. "Please stop feeding my son slimy pretzels. He doesn't want to be last to choose any more." The teacher looked at my 7 year old brother and asked,"Is your father serious?" My wide eyed brother responded, "Yes, he is." My brother was then first in line everyday after. He was victorious no more slimy pretzels. That one note changed everything, that one note became legend in my family. The power of parental persuasion was solidified with that note.

I am now the note writer. I keep in constant contact with my children's teachers. I am their advocate. I don't consider myself a helicopter parent more as a team player with the teachers to keep my children's education a high priority. I write many many notes to the teacher. Most of them are not what the teachers have come to expect. I do not write about how my special snowflake child needs this or that or how they have unfairly graded my precious baby. I write notes that say things like, Please give my daughter the grade she actually deserves on this project. She slapped it together hastily, without help or following directions. Please do not hold it against her she didn't mean to disrespect you or the assignment she felt that Sponge Bob Square Pants was more important than successfully completing the assignment. We will continue to work on her work ethics.

Soon after sending that note, it was back to school night. My daughter's teacher sought me out to discuss my note. She told me she has received many notes from parents but this one was the first in her 25 year career she brought home for her husband to read. She said it was the first time ever she had a note written by a parent that wasn't yelling at her, but conveyed frustration with my own daughter. She profusely thanked me for making her day.

I've gone to many more back to school nights. I've met many more teachers. I have let them all know they can always reach me and will give all my contact info. I let them know if it involves my children they can send me smoke signals or sky write it anyway they need to use to contact me. I've realized I'm not the student anymore, I'm not the child. With my first note to the teacher, this massive responsibility of raising children to successful adults stunned me that I'm the one. I'm the the integral team member to my children's educational success. My brother recently got married and has a son. I'm considering sending him a pen and stationary to send his own notes to the teachers his son will have.

The first post

So the first post, it sets the tone. Will this blog be funny, clever, witty or just boring? Because not everyone's life is exciting or interesting to read. And some might be reasonably interesting but how's the writing style?

Hopefully, this will be my adventure in keeping my brain from turning to mush. I like to read I have always liked writing. It was a subject I excelled in during my school years. Now looking back at some of my writing I think I've come off quite pompous and wordy.

My goal is to write some stories, hone my skills and you, dear reader, get to grade them. I plan on writing various types of stories and some will be autobiographical, while some I'll completely make up for my own amusement, and some might just be reviews of things I've read, places I've gone and experiences I've had.

I'm ready to embark on this journey of an endless writing class. Suggestions and comments are welcome.