Feeling good

   Several weeks ago I bought a pair of roller blades for myself. Matt has a pair, as does my wife, so I thought I'd join in as well. Now, Matt and the wife have some quality blades that ran us going on two hundred dollars a pair, but there was no way I was spending that much on a pair for me, considering the use to which they would likely be put (read: very occasional). So I bought a pair at Canadian Tire.
   They were regularly $79.99, but were on sale for half price. I figured I couldn't go wrong. The first time I put them on it was instantly apparent that one of the differences between an eighty dollar pair of skates and a two hundred dollar pair of skates is in the wheels. My wife got gliding slightly downhill on the father-in-law's driveway, and ended up twenty feet into the lawn at the end of it. I went farther up the hill, starting at a much steeper part, and didn't even reach the lawn.
   No, it wasn't because I fell down. It was because my wheels didn't run as freely as hers. Believe me, that's a good thing. Means I'm less likely to run into a situation where I need to bail at high speed to avoid hitting a bus, or something.
   But that isn't what this entry is about.

   At the same time as I bought the roller blades, I bought a set of pads to go along with them. Knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist guards, because, you know, safety first. especially for my big old ass. If I fall, I'm going down hard, take my word for it. I didn't buy a helmet, because I honestly don't think I'll ever be going fast enough to need one.
   Because I thought the set of pads I bought only had elbow and knee pads in it, I also bought a set of wrist guards separately. When I opened the set, I realised that it did, contrary to the way it was labeled, contain wrist guards. The extra set sat around for weeks, and I finally got around to taking them back to Canadian Tire yesterday.
   But that isn't what this entry is about.

   I arrived at the store at exactly the wrong time it seems. I walked through the doors behind two other people, and they both proceeded directly to the returns counter. Still, I expected a short wait. Humph!
   The man in front of me was returning a steam carpet cleaner, and inquiring whether he could pay the differenceto step up to a higher model. That took a few minutes to clear up, but really wasn't a problem.
   The woman in front of him, though. Grrrr. Pardon me while I take a few deep breaths and count to ten...

...

...

   OK. So here's the thing. According to the law, once a product has been delivered to the consumer, no retail outlet has any obligation to take it back, under any circumstances. Wrong colour? You should have thought about it more carefully before you bought it. Doesn't work? Well, there is a warranty from the manufacturer that takes care of defective products. Bought it twice by accident (blush)? Try engaging your brain before you take out your wallet next time, schmuck.
   Still, most retailers do have some kind of return policy. Canadian Tire, being one of the largest national chains in Canada, and wanting to be as consumer friendly as possible, has a very generous return policy. They will take almost anything back, subject to a few very specific terms and conditions. Terms and conditions, by the way, which are printed quite clearly on each and every receipt issued, and in giant letters on a six foot by six foot sign board behind the counter at the returns desk.
   That sign says, in part, "if you do not have your original purchase receipt, we will refund you the lowest advertised selling price for that product over the last 90 days in the form of an in-store credit only." Seems clear enough to me. It wasn't, it seems, clear enough to the woman in front of me.
   Why do some people seem to think that rules they expect everyone else in the world to follow don't apply to them? Regardless of the fact that she did not have her bill, this woman wanted a full refund to her credit card anyway. Regardless of the fact that the store's official policy was staring her in the face in six inch tall letters, she wanted special treatment. She wanted the rules not to apply to her. A store credit just wasn't going to work for her. "I'll never use it," she protested. "I never shop here."
   Um, helloooo? You bought the freaking thing here, didn't you? Finally, the young girl behind the counter offered to call a manager over to talk to the woman, and I was able to step up to the counter. I gave the frazzled girl a big smile, and announced, in a very loud voice, "I would like to return this item. According to the clearly stated and prominently posted return policy, I understand that, because I was irresponsible and lost my bill, I will only be offered an in-store credit, and that's OK with me." I have no idea if the woman heard me or not, although it's hard to believe she could have missed it, being a mere six feet away. She made no sign of having heard, anyway. The girl behind the counter, on the other hand, burst into an ear to ear grin. I made her day. That made me feel good.
   That's what this entry is about.

tags:Misc.