You were told that you just had to ask to get your money back.
But with these clowns you instead find that your sanity is under attack…
“I know!” I said to myself. “I’ll just slide right into Home Depot on the way to work and return this now-infamous sh*t-brown paint they accidentally sold me. It makes more sense to take the 5 minutes to do it now, on account of it being 3 fewer left turns compared to doing it on the way home from work.”
And I was confident in the ease of the upcoming transaction, thanks to Robert-From-Another-Mother-Home-Depot’s reassurance that they would gladly right the wrong they had done did me.
Oh, and if you’re clueless what I’m going on about, catch up by clicking the two hyper-links above in chronological order. Then you will understand my trials and tribulations at the hands of PaperKraft. Now, back to the story…
“Home Depot customer service and returns, how may I help you today?” droned the rep behind the returns desk, who–*checks nametag*–happened to be yet another ‘Robert’ in this story.
“Yeah, I need to return this paint. They accidentally mixed up the wrong color for me.” I said with unearned confidence.
“Uh…doy. We can’t accept paint that’s been mixed once it’s left the store,” he stated flatly.
“Oh, no, yes you can. You see, it’s actually a funny story…I found a glitch in Home Depot’s paint system’s Matrix, and Koko didn’t hear my protests when I caught it and forced me to take it home anyways, and then I talked to Robert in the paint department–not your paint department, the one across town–and he reassured me that I would be able to return this paint, and–“
“Once the paint has left the store, it can’t be returned,” Robert interrupted me.
“Are you listening to me? I have stumbled upon such a rare occurrence that happens every 100 thousand years or so, when the sun doth shine and the moon doth glow, and the grass doth grow-oh-whoa-oh.”1Okay, so I’ve been watching/listening to Tenacious D’s hit 2003 song Tribute with my younger daughter waaaaay too much…
“Huh?” ol’ Robbie-Boy looked at me with slightly crossed eyes. “Whatever. But sorry, store policy. You were supposed to check the paint color before you left.”
“My Dude, I’m telling you I did, but ol’ Koko made me buy it anyways. Lemme speak to your manager–I’m sure he or she can sort this out lickety-split…”
“Yes, I am the manager,” lied the assistant manager. “How can I help you?”
“You see, I need to return this pai–“
“Sorry, you can’t return paint once it’s mixed and left the store,” she interrupted me.
“Please, I need you to listen–this isn’t your run-of-the-mill paint purchase and return. We broke the Universe with this one,” I protested.
“Before you buy the paint, we make sure that you check the paint color. That’s why there’s a little daub we put on the label of each mixed can. It is your responsibility to make sure it is the correct color,” said the ass-hat–er, I mean, ‘ass. manager’.
“I did tell your girl Koko that it was the wrong color! When I told her it was way too dark, she told me that it would get lighter as it dries. And then refused to remix because she had use the right code–a code that I had verified. But about that code…”
“She actually said it gets lighter as it dries? No one says that! She should know better–it gets darker as it dries. Still, I don’t know if we can accept your return.”
“Look, your rep made me buy paint that I was very clear was the wrong color. But, there are some key details about the paint code for PaperKraft to back me up (and maybe get Koko a little bit off the hook). Let me show you how your system has two colors assigned to the same paint code.”
“I can’t access that, but they can over at the paint department. Let’s go over there…”
We mosied the 15 feet over to the nearby paint section of the store, where we were greeted not by Koko, but by some gal I can only describe as way too easier to be mistaken for a bouncer at a lesbian bar (though, I can’t actually vouch for how she/they identify in that particular department).
I proceeded to walk her through the process of getting the system to pull up the two very different paint recipes for PaperKraft. She seemed to not understand what I was getting at, so I was pretty exasperated by the time she flipped her monitor around to show me the color preview for PaperKraft on her computer screen.
“Wait?!? You have color previews??? Both Koko and Robert at the other Home Depot claimed they couldn’t tell what the color was going to look like! Now, take a look at that color, and now look at the paint cans I’m trying to return. Any ----- idiot can see that they are two totally different colors!”
Me, in that moment:
“Huh. Interesting. What is it exactly you want me to do?” she still seemed a bit lost.
And honestly, I was too. I didn’t what else to show these fools in support of my case.
“I guess I can mix up a sample and compare them,” she suggested.
She proceeded to do just that, and–surprise, surprise–she clearly ended up with the color I had originally wanted instead of the crap-tastic colors I had plopped on her counter.
“Yeah…okay. Now what?” ----- she was dense.
“Well, first, you need to run it up the IT chain to whoever can fix the ----- system and recode the imposter Paper Kraft–I think the difference is whether it’s one word or two–so you don’t blow up the Universe next time…”
I paused and took a second glance at Betty The Bouncer and the assistant manager and realized that that request was a lost cause.
“And of course, I want a refund for the paint that Koko incorrectly mixed and then refused to remix it,” I was about to lose my mind with these fools.
“I don’t know if we can accept a paint return…” the dumbass manager repeated herself like a mindless drone.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Well, I’m not leaving until I get a refund,” I declared.
You would have thought that such assertiveness by a customer who the had done did wrong would be enough for them to acquiesce and make their victim whole.
But…nope. Instead the three of us found ourselves staring at each other in the world’s most boring Mexican standoff for what felt like 5 minutes at least. ----- them. They weren’t going to get rid of me that easy.
Finally, the asst manager piped up.
“Well, I suppose we might be able to give you store credit. Would that work?”
“Oh, geez, yes! Can we get that taken care of ASAP? I’m already late for work because of all this stupidity,” I said with some sense of relief.
“Alright, let’s just take these cans back over to Robert at the returns desk…”
“Robert, if you could just put this paint return on a in-store credit card, mmm-kay?” the asst. manager instructed the gentleman with my same namesake at the return desk.
“Uh…okay. Sure thing, Boss Lady,” he complied, as he tip-tap-typed-scanned my paint into their returns system.
He paused for a few moments staring at it quizzically,
“You can’t return paint–” he started before being interrupted by his superior.
“Just push this button here to override…” she said impatiently.
I rolled my eyes so hard they about popped out. This whole ----- time she could have over-ridden their store policy, but, noooooooo, she had to go and be a totally pain in the ass.
After a few more button taps, he made awkward eye contact with me again.
“We can’t process this without the original receipt…” he mumbled.
“Well, Robert, did you ever think to ask me for it? No, I don’t have it. But I have the card I purchased it with. Shouldn’t that work?” I retorted.
Robert gave his Boss Lady a sideways glance looking for direction.
“Yes, that should work,” she said.
“See, Robert, how hard was that, really?” I mouthed off as I slid my card.
I wouldn’t want to get into a fist-fight with Betty The Bouncer hanging back in the paint department, but Robert? I could take this clown down with a single punch to the neck.
“Uh…it doesn’t look like the paint was bought on that card…I guess the system won’t let us refund the paint.”
Me, on the inside in that moment:
I wasn’t about to come this far, climb these mountains, fight all these battles, only to fall down at the finish line.
“Hey jack ass, I probably just swiped my card backwards. Let me swipe it again.”
“Oh…okay. Yeah, it’s showing up now…what button do I press again?” the man was testing every last ounce of patience of mine.
“OVERRIDE. Press the ----- override button! You, sir, are not worthy of the noble title of ‘Robert’. You’re ruining the name for the rest of us…”
The point of the story is…aw, fudge-colored paint, I don’t know. There’s gotta be a moral of the story in here somewhere. Hmm…let’s see…
Well, if nothing else, if you don’t think you have any potential anger management issues boiling under the surface, may I recommend visiting your local hardware store and–short-circuiting the process based on my hard-earned lessons–ask to speak to the assistant manager.
…
…
…
That’s it. That’s the advice. You don’t have to talk to them about anything specific, just talk to them about anything. Soon enough, you too will be like:
Content created on: 5/6 August 2023 (Sat/Sun)
Footnotes & References:
Leave a Reply