The Customer Isn't Always Right I Guess

What ever happened to that school of thought? I went "shopping" today. It was a very painful experience. First I had to return a sleeper I got as a gift that Elsa was too big for. Well the person who bought it for me took off the tags, but I did have a gift receipt. It took me 20 minutes at the counter to get my money and by the way the lady treated me you'd think I'd had asked her to build Rome in a day. My 1 1/2 year old complains less in a month than what that lady did in that 20 minute interval. But I consider myself lucky because I did get money back and sometimes when I go back with something I'm not so lucky.

Later on today I headed out for groceries for the party on Sunday. I'm doing a ham. I decided this because my mother has done a ham for a couple of occasions now and it's very easy to do and very tasty. Well I went to the store (large chain store that now sells groceries, not the local guys) she told me she buys it from. And low and behold right when I walk in there is the ham. But it looks a little too big so I head back to the meat department but I'm not finding the ham. I'm in a hurry because Molly is crabby so I decided that I'm not going to mess around I'll just send left overs home with the guests. So I get to the check out and they can't find a price. It turns out this particular ham is part of a dinner pack. You need to buy a bunch of other crap just to get the ham. At the time the cashier is telling me this Tim is already very unhappy and embarrassed (he doesn't deal with going against the norm at all, he likes life to be like those credit card commericals where everything runs perfectly until the person with the check book shows up), and he can tell I'm going to get belligerent. I sense this, but I still prod on. I ask if I could possibly buy the exact same type of ham with out the additional stuff. The cashier looks at me like I'm asking her to cut off her arm and sell it to me. At this point Tim cuts in and says I must have the wrong ham (ooooooo, does that make me mad!) and we'll just pick out another kind. We pay for our other purchases and I'm steaming. I lite into him saying I know exactly what kind of ham my mother buys (I do!) and what are we going to do... Tim manages to get me out of the store and into the car promising me he'll go back and pick out a new ham and it will be fine. I call my mother on the way home to whine. She makes me feel better by telling me a couple different ways you can doctor up a plain ham. I start to feel a little better.

I'm the customer, I'm always right. And to me the right thing to do is to sell the customer who wants a freaking ham the freaking ham!