When I’m frustrated I throw unused, nonfunctional products down the garbage chute. It harms no one. The rattling noise and the sound of the thud pleases me. I sigh and march forward.
Another way I vent when life feels uncontrollable is to return malfunctioning objects to corporate America.
When I was a little girl, Buster Brown in the fall meant new durable shoes for the school year. In the spring, it meant shiny black patent leathers with a chocolate egg in each toe on Easter morning. I was the youngest of eight. Both pairs of shoes had to last all year.
Recently, I shipped a pair of my 7-year-old son’s sneakers to Buster Brown headquarters. The front part of the shoe had come apart within 30 days. Buster Brown sent me a check. There was no letter or apology – just money for the returned merchandise. I cashed the check, but I no longer buy Buster Brown.
I used to purchase my son’s pants at Target until the seams at the crotch on three pairs came apart.
I went to Target’s Customer Service desk with two valid receipts set to expire in 90 days. The seemingly 18-year-old cashier said, “I’ll return the one-month-old pants but not the two-month-old pair.”
“My son wore those 10 times,” I said. “I don’t think they should rip that quickly. I’m returning them on principle.”
The cashier spoke with his manager, who told him to call corporate Customer Service. “If they approve it, I’ll do it this time,” the cashier said and handed me the phone.
The man on the phone was soft-spoken, with an Indian accent. He asked me my name.
I told him, “Kate Kaiser. Where am I calling?”
The man responded, “Target corporate headquarters are in Minneapolis, but we are located in New Delhi, India. How may I help you?”
Feeling foolish, I told him the crotch story. The other cashiers giggled. He took my address and gave me a claim number. He put me on hold.
I looked at the cashier, saying, “I’m calling India to get credit approval for pants they can’t see? Does anyone in America still wear pants and have power?”
The Indian man then told me I would have to speak to his supervisor and he put me on hold again. I held the phone out and shook my head.
I said, “I don’t need this money” to the people behind the counter. “It would be easier for me to just throw them out.”
The next thing I knew, the cashier handed me a credit receipt.
“Why am I still on hold with New Delhi?” I asked.
The cashier shrugged his shoulders. I hung up the phone and went shopping. – Kate Kaiser
Kate Kaiser is a frequent contributor. Comments on this piece can be sent to: current@hudsonreporter.com.