That seems to have become my favourite saying over the past few years – maybe I’m getting old and crabby like the Grumpy Old Men, but for some reason it seems to apply more and more to the things I do.
I just got an email from Outdoor Warehouse, the place I ordered my GoLite Jam from. It was on offer at £40, well below the retail price and below most other offers I could find as well. I ordered the “Night” on the left below, but because of a stock discrepancy on the web site they actually had none in stock and would I accept a “Corriander” instead (on the right)?
Now I don’t know about others, but I prefer to be understated on the hills and the anonymous grey of the Night was much more to my taste than the bright green of the Corriander. Anyway I was told I could have a refund or a green one – take my pick. At least I was offered the choice I guess.
I pushed back a bit and suggested they hold my order until new stock came in and it seems that I’m dealing with a guy in a shop rather than some faceless warehouse-driven sales office in Bangalore, as the guy was happy to put me on hold so to speak until next week when new stock is due. So thanks to Charlie at Outdoor Warehouse for being flexible and a human!
10 minutes after the pack cock-up the caster on my chair broke. I’ve only had the damn thing for 6 weeks and it cost a bloody fortune in Staples. So I rang their customer service desk number – it rang once then went to an automated message extolling the virtues of their website and how it made life so much easier for me. After a minute or two the smooth narrative switched to adverts for various products; printer cartridges being high on the list and then after 4 and a half minutes they finally told me I was in a queue and they knew I was waiting and that my call was important and all that other gubbins…. but obviously not important enough to tell me at the outset that I was going to be placed into a rather annoying queue. I hung up after 5 minutes on an 0844 number.
I looked in Yell and found the number of the store in Warrington that I bought the chair from. I got an answer from a human after two rings, she even told me her name! I explained the situation and she offered to exchange the chair – I said all I really wanted was another caster – she said “Oh we’ve got loads in the back in a big bag, bring the broken one and we’ll swap it out”. Job sorted. The human triumphs again.