The Point of Sale
I stood in line for more than six minutes — I happened to notice the clock on the wall — waiting to buy Violet a net. Okay, actually the net was for Linda. To corral, if you will, Violet, when it is time to change the water in the fish tank. Violet is actually a guy, we think, and when we were fishing for a name, went with the color. I was at the local PetCo, and the young woman at the register could not figure out how to punch in a purchase with coupons. She got on the phone twice. Another clerk came over and tried to help, but to no avail. She had big brown vacant eyes, and probably would have been better use at a dairy. So after waiting, and watching the line at the other register dwindle long past the spot where I might have been, I got behind the couple making their purchases. Two fish in two plastic bags. Not sealed, the buyer said, so they could breathe. I hope their ride wouldn't be too bumpy going home. 'Cause it was bumpy at the register. Another clerk, who didn't know how to ring up the sale. She struggled and punched and phoned, for several minutes more, until I decided it would be morally wrong for me to wait any longer to give them my money to ratify their incompetence, which I calmly decried as I dropped Linda's Violet's net on the counter and walked out.
I don't get out much, and it's intentional. I went to Barnes&Noble the day earlier and bought a book for my brother-in-law. I would normally have gotten it on line, but wanted to check out another book at the store. My mistake. Two more clerks spending more time than was conscionable ringing up sales, slowly, ineptly, garbed in unabashed confusion. The manager was neatening up displays, saw the line, saw the neo-paralytic clerks, kept up his nettoyer. I mean, I'm all for tidy piles of books, but when you see the same folks making a line for several minutes, you've got a problem, pal, and if you don't do something about it, you're gonna make your customers wonder why they are squandering their hard-earned time and lucre in your establishment. For the time it takes me to park, wander the store, and then to stand in line, Hey, I've long covered the cost of postage, and often saved sales tax.
It took four minutes to process my purchase of Buster vittles at the vet. I found the dogfood myself and brought it to the counter, and handed my credit card to the clerk. First she had to find my account, but when she couldn't find it under my name — they never can — I gave her Linda's name, but the spelling was so daunting that she asked for my phone number instead, which led right to the account. Then the account had to be updated and the card run. I appreciate technology, but only when it's thoughtfully integrated into the sales process.
Retailers just don't get it that people don't really like to part with their money, and to make them wait in lines to hand it over is just not good policy. In truth, I'm rarely though sometimes rude before clerks, not to them, but to let them know of my displeasure with their system. They don't seem to care, which is why they are where they are, and not likely to get much further ahead. For all of the quirks and jerks of the Internet, at least you don't have to be civil to the computer.
And that's SetonnoteS...I'm Tony Seton.
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