This open letter is crafted from the less than ideal customer service experience I had a few weeks back with T@rget. Rather than give you the play-by-play of the day, I will share my complaint letter, which has not actually been sent, but most likely should be. And should they try to find me on the web, I’ve stealthily disguised their name with a little @. Sneaky, isn’t it?
I like you; I really do, and I thoroughly consider you the lesser of all evils, hands down. Your stackable coupon policy helps me snag great deals and your dollar spot makes me smile. I do, however, have one qualm: Your Return Policy. Let’s get real here, T@rget. Sometimes, folks lose the receipt. It is by its nature a tiny little piece of paper, just like lots of other tiny little pieces of paper, thus living a nondescript life. That is not truly where my issue resides, for despite the two babies I call my own, and a husband that has childlike qualities at times, I typically manage to keep a receipt, when there is actually one to keep. What then is the rub? Your registry return policy. Because when I create a gift registry for my coming baby, I hope for the best: a gift receipt and no duplicate purchases. That, my friend, would be a perfect world. We do, however, live in a fallen world, so not every T@rget shopper completes the transaction and gift-giving as flawlessly as your store encourages. Admittedly, in rare instances, we registry creators choose a gift that did not meet our expectations or fit the appropriate space, especially since the item might have been selected on-line, without a proper viewing. It would make sense then that you would honor me, the registrant, by choosing to bring business your way through my registry, not to mention respect my gift giver by taking back said item. Now, I am not expecting you to be like the mega-aisles-of-smiles-superstore that shall not be named and take back everything. That would be simply preposterous. Yet, when the large, unopened box I bring in has your red logo all over it, you can rest assured that it is from your company. And when I go to print off my “gift-registry log” that is oh so important for gift returning, it miffs me tremendously that you have deleted it, and not just my log, but my entire registry. I understand that you consider my event date to be past the very sacred and irrevocable 90 days, but how do you, oh keeper of baby registries, know exactly when my child passed through the birth canal and officially entered into this world? Were you there? Because I certainly did not see you, and had you been there, I just might have requested a popcorn combo for $1.50 to help me pass the time. Also, as I kindly reminded your “I only speak barely audible broken English” customer service associate on the phone, due dates are guesstimates, not facts. My baby was not born on his due date, thank you very much. He was born over a week after. Therefore, the event date, as you like to call it, was not the date of the birth, so in the world of law and birth certificates, I was still within the 90 days. And not to be ugly about it, but the Feds have more power in my mind than your red shirted associates. I am still sticking with my plan that I discussed with you to tell all future registrants to choose a due date that is months away from the actual anticipated date in order to leave more time for returns. Because, let’s be honest here, the first thing on a woman’s mind after pushing a baby out of her vagina is not to go straight home and measure the space opening at the bottom of her stairs to make sure the baby gate is going to fit, especially a baby gate that had not yet been shipped to her house. I’m just saying. It’s not priority number one. Call me crazy if you must, but for some reason this new little life takes precedence. Although this occurrence has tainted our relationship, I know we can move past this, for I have already given you more of my family’s hard earned money since this incident. I, however, will remember. The scars are deep, old friend, and the reminders are constant…..because a perfectly crafted, mint, new in box baby gate still sits in my garage, haunting and mocking me upon each and every entrance into my house.
A Chagrined T@rget Shopper