Customer Service Snafuus

I love a good customer service confrontation as much as the next person--probably more. But I've had two in recent days that have just been bizarre.

Matt and I went to Dairy Queen this week, and I ordered one of their new mini Blizzards. They're the perfect size--just enough ice cream, but still way too many calories. I ordered a banana split Blizzard, my personal favorite, and the cashier (who resembled a 16-year-old Shaun White) started into a diatribe that was apparently intended to convince me to order something else.

Mr. White: "Are you sure? That Blizzard comes out really runny. Like Blizzard soup."
Me: "That's okay."
Mr. White: "I mean, are you really sure? It tastes like ass."
Me: (Slightly more baffled) "Yes, I'm sure."
Mr. White: "Seriously. It's disgusting."
Me: (Totally confused. Can they not make it, or does he just not want to?). "But this is what I want."
Mr. White: "Fine. Our pain is your pleasure, I guess."

The fact that he just didn't want to make my mini banana split Blizzard was confirmed when the Blizzard-making employee behind him let out an audible groan when he saw my order (to which Mr. White replied, "Sorry, dude. I tried to talk her out of it.").

Had I realized what was happening sooner, I would have enjoyed one of my now-infamous confrontations with a cashier. But because the situation was so bizarre, I had to resign myself to contacting Dairy Queen when I got home. Just a few days later, the owner of that particular Dairy Queen franchise called me at home. She knew the employee just from my description of the incident, and she wanted to apologize. Her husband also used the opportunity to perform a little market research on the mini Blizzard, but that's beside the point. The three of us had a lovely conversation about the immaturity of teenage boys, and she even sent me a few coupons.


Later this week, a call from Sears woke me up far too early. They were calling to confirm my order and asked that I call them back to set up a time for delivery. They used my name in the message and obviously called my number--but I never ordered anything from Sears.

So I called the toll-free number left in the message, imagining some poor person out there not getting his or her washer, dryer, refrigerator...who knows? The woman on the phone took my name, telephone number and zip code. She said, "I'm finding no deliveries with your name to your zip code. I promise, nothing will be delivered to you." I tried to tell her that I was more concerned about the poor person who wasn't going to get this order, to which she replied, "I'm finding no deliveries with your name to your zip code. I promise, nothing will be delivered to you." Because that seemed to be the only phrase they taught her at the Indian call center, I had to let it go. Stay tuned for an anticipated post about where to store the sub-zero refrigerator I never ordered.

An unintended double entendre

While home during my spring break this week, I've spent some time trying to figure out how to spend the hundreds of Cabela's points I've earned with my Cabela's credit card. Back before we were married, Matt convinced me to get a Cabela's card, assuring me there would be hundreds of things for me to purchase with my points. Since then, he's observed that hardly anything at Cabela's seems to appeal to me and has suggested that a new fishing rod or some men's hiking boots might be a nice way to spend my points. I should have seen this coming.

So after stuggling through page after page of high-waisted pants and embroidered sweaters, I came across this item in the women's clothing section:
I've heard of a "golf widow" or even a "fishing widow," but a "hunting widow" brings with it a double meaning that might explain why the hat was listed for $2.88.

More little shoes

Not long ago, I posted about one of my favorite stores in Baltimore. I went in last weekend intending only to buy some of their yummy chocolate (they have a white chocolate one with black olives that's to die for), but I came out with another fabulous pair of shoes...along with the chocolate bar.

I've had my eye on this pair since I started going to Ma Petite Shoe, and they were on uber clearance last weekend. At over 80% off, I would have been a fool not to buy them. Welcome to the family, my beautiful new El Naturalistas. You'll like it here.

My Little Shoes

One of my favorite stores in Baltimore is Ma Petite Shoe, a wonderful hybrid of shoes and chocolate. Aside from the delightful play on words ("mon petit chou" is a French expression which literally means "my little cabbage," but is a term of endearment), Ma Petite Shoe has some of the cutest shoes I've ever seen.

They're a tad pricy, so I only have one pair of Ma Petite Shoes (for now!), but I get compliments on them every time I wear them. It's a shame that a mere photo can't do them justice.

The gift that kept on giving

I got a wonderful birthday present from my Feyds and Annabear this year. Thanks to wonderful after-Christmas sales these past few weeks, it's the gift that has kept giving and giving (and, thanks so some mismarked items this afternoon, it will continue to give):


The only thing that would have made this awesome gift better would have been shopping with Feyds and Annabear. Maybe next birthday.

Highlights

I wanted to wait until I could post a photo or two of Anna and Todd's wedding before writing about what a great time it was, but my camera battery charger is somewhere between Maryland and Minnesota. That's a story for another time. For now, here are a few of my personal highlights, all of which include only mental pictures anyway:

• The look on Anna's dad's face during the ceremony. I've never seen emotion like that from him. I was already crying, but his face made me bawl.
• Spending almost a whole morning with the Feyder family! Bel and I played with princess stickers, and Frank followed Rebecca around like her shadow. I made poor Bel give me 100 hugs before I left their house that morning, and I missed her as soon as we left.
  
• Anna's friend, Cameo, walking full-speed into a glass door at our hotel. She made the floor shake. I really wish I had a camera for that one.
• My highlight, by far, was the shopping trip that Rebecca and I took on Friday afternoon. We had a classic conversation about buying new shoes that went something like this:

Rebecca: "Should I get this pair of flats? I'm already getting these boots."
Rachel: "How much are the flats?"
Rebecca: "About $60. But if I buy two pair, I get 25% off both of them."
Rachel: "And how much are the boots?"
Rebecca: "About $120."
Rachel: "Okay, so that's $120 plus $60, which is $180. 25% of that is (five minutes later) $45. Subtract that from $180 and you have (another five minutes pass) just $135. So that's like getting the second pair for just $15!"
Rebecca: "So I'm saving $45?!"
Rachel: "And you're getting super cute flats for just $15! You'd be crazy not to get them."
Rebecca: "Oh, I'm getting them."