Domestic Psychology

Customer Service

// November 28th, 2011 // No Comments » // clothing, shops

After multiple suggestions to dress in layers when visiting New York, I bought a sweater for my travels. Knoxville’s winter is so brief that I usually just toss a coat on over my shirt. I didn’t really have layering clothes and it took some effort to find a sweater that was neither Granny-wear nor too fancy for mom chores.

During my New York visit, I quickly figured out that layers are piled on to go outside and peeled off when you step inside. On the day that I wore my brand new sweater for the very first time, I stepped in a museum and removed my jacket. I immediately noticed that the area of my sweater which protrudes had been felted into two bullseyes by my jacket. It was hot and uncomfortable, but I kept my jacket on the entire day.

When I returned to Knoxville, I emailed the jacket’s manufacturer. They responded to my email by acknowledging prior awareness of the design flaw and the suggestion that I shop from them again in the future when that flaw would be remedied. Their response rubbed me as raw as their jacket did my sweater.

I would have appreciated a suggestion on how to fix the flaw. I would have been satisfied by an apology and a joke about my boob target sweater. I would have been grateful to an offer to let their clothing experts attempt a repair of my sweater. Being told that they knew about the problem and never notified customers was disappointing. The suggestion that I should buy more was annoying.

I’m probably the only liberal who doesn’t believe in boycotts. If my children need something from a company whose policies are different than mine, my children’s needs will always come first. Yet, I could not bring myself to take advantage of the jacket company’s Black Friday or Cyber Monday sales. How can I give them my money in exchange for customer service that won’t even attempt to remedy their mistakes?

Ikealand

// August 5th, 2010 // 6 Comments » // shops

I know I am the last person on planet Earth to say this, but I went to an Ikea store. Wait. Back up a bit. I have heard Ikea mentioned in conversations for years. Online, I know Ikea from its’ starring role at Make. In my mind, Ikea was a Target filled with assembly-required boxes of home decor. My imagination was slightly off-target.

Doug and I realized we were looking at the building at the same time. It was probably visible for more than a mile and we didn’t know that the mall sized monstrosity was our intended destination. We made deer in headlights faces while uttering comment after comment about the size of the building before we giddily made our way up the escalator into the unknown.

At this point in our adventure, we panicked. There were suddenly multiple escalators and lines of people going different directions. Where were the tour guides? Some people had giant blue bags and others had lift trucks. We were only there to look, so we opted out of both. We stumbled in line behind the obviously more experienced Ikea shoppers until we saw the first merchandise. I’m sure there are rules and rhythm involved in slipping in and out of the people train to actually stop and look at things, but we never figured them out. Our method was to slip out of line whenever there was a pause and wait for a gap to jump back in the line. It meant we missed a lot of the clever room displays, but honestly, there was so much STUFF that it was impossible to see everything anyway.

You know how you make a mental pricetag in your head before looking at the actual price? The “I’ll only buy it if it’s less than __ ” pricing game? Ikea is a baaaaad place to play that game. We had made it safely down two or three hallways before we started seeing things we didn’t know we needed. This was the point where, once again, I wished for a tour guide. Write down the information and location? Seriously? I broke the rules I didn’t understand by standing still and searching for an iPhone app made just for Ikea shopping. There’s NOT an app for that. I took pictures of the item information tags.

We were ill equipped for the grueling marathon that is a visit to Ikea. We were in there so long that even though I felt completely dehydrated, I still had to take three potty breaks. I should have had a CamelBak. And a catheter. I was so tired that we completely bypassed the lighting displays and I stumbled through the kitchen tools area whining that I needed a wheelchair instead of looking at the gadgets. The first thing that someone said when I told them I just visited Ikea? “OMG! My favorite section is the kitchen area. I always find something awesome there.” The second thing I heard? “You bought one of the blue bags didn’t you?” No, I didn’t buy a blue bag, because I HAD NO GUIDE. I didn’t know Ikea bags are perfect for Sam’s shopping trips. You know what people said about Ikea before I went? They told me I needed to go there. That’s it. No advice. Nothing. Dude. Friends don’t let friends visit Ikea without a guide.

Pssst, look what I got at Ikea. It’s the best souvenir ever. I’ll have to make another trip to Atlanta to get a blue bag.

Update: A care package came in the mail yesterday. It was a box FILLED with Ikea bags. Christmas in August! Thank you!

shopping assistant

// December 24th, 2008 // 1 Comment » // holidays, me, relatives, sandwich generation, shops

Grandaddy: “I’m at the bookstore and I need to find something for your mother.”
Me: “Do you want to give her a book, music or coffee?”
Grandaddy: “I want to get a CD and one book.”
Me: “Okay. Walk to the music area and find the pop section”
Grandaddy: “Found it.”
Me: “Look for Jack Johnson or Josh Groban or Jason Mraz or . . . ”
Grandaddy: “That’s too many choices, just tell me what to get.”
Me: “Get the CD with a cute guy on the cover.”
Grandaddy: “Done. Now I need to know what book to get.”
Me: “Okay. Walk to the just released paperback section.”
Grandaddy: “Found it.”
Me: “Look for a book with a couple on the cover who have the wind blowing their hair.”
Grandaddy: “Done. Thanks.”
Me: “No problem. Need anything else?”
Grandaddy: “Nope. I’ve got from here.”

Fifteen minutes later he dropped off the bag of purchases so that I could wrap them.

late night errands

// November 9th, 2008 // 9 Comments » // me, people, shops

If I want to visit the store without the entire entourage, I go late at night. The entertaining antics of late night shoppers is just an extra bonus. Friday I needed to visit the red bullseye store for diapers. I grabbed the diapers and wandered the clearance racks because it’s a sickness and I can’t help myself. Then, I went to the checkouts. I stood in line behind a woman telling the cashier that she would be returning her sweater if it stretched, shrunk or got damaged in the laundry. “This cost twenty dollars and I want my money back if it gets messed up in the laundry.” The cashier tried to tell her that she would need to work that out with customer service, but she wouldn’t quit until she had spoken her mind. I zoned out on her laundry woes because I was focused on a man at the next checkout. He was berating a cashier because she was closing out her drawer and couldn’t stop mid-process to check him out. “So you are saying you WON’T check me out.” “Sir, this lane is closed. Any of the lanes with lights on can check you out.” He let her know that he would be filing a complaint because she was standing at a cash register and refusing to do her job. At that point I realized that my cashier was waiting . . . and waiting some more, for me to unload my cart. I apologized to him and smiled, but he was clearly drained and not amused with my eavesdropping instead of paying attention. I still didn’t think that I was the same kind of crazy customer as the other two customers.

I found a teeny-tiny sport bra that was really just a tank top with a bare midriff on a clearance rack for dollar. I thought it was hysterically funny after Amy’s constant insistence that she needs a bra. Amy was thrilled. Her grandparents were not. They were the opposite of thrilled. They think I belong in the same category as the other late night bullseye store shoppers. I think the world has lost its’ sense of humor.

BlogHer DC Sponsors

// October 23rd, 2008 // 4 Comments » // blogging, blogher, shops, technology

In my previous life, I orchestrated an annual event at the zoo in May. The sponsors and exhibitors would give up a Saturday to the event. I always felt like they deserved more thanks than they were given since without them, the event would have been hollow. Instead of anything close to adequate praise, they had to put up with crazy, like the year an exhibitor brought miniature beach balls. Someone went all over the zoo, tossing the inflatable balls into every open animal pen. The zoo employees had to scramble to rescue the animals from the choking hazard and the beach ball exhibitor got scolded over and over again for not doing their TPS cover sheet bringing something dangerous to animals. I had to change the exhibitor contract from “no balloons” to “no inflatables” after that incident. The point of this long and winding explanation is that I always try to give some extra love to the under-appreciated people who contribute to events. So, I want to give a shout out to BlogHer sponsors:

Bill Me Later – This is exactly what it sounds like. Instead of having to enter your credit card information over and over again, you just enter it once at Bill Me Later and the charges from other online stores are all sent to one site. They were handing out nylon shopping bags that folded up into a teeny pouch. I stuck it into the glove box of the car for shopping at the drug store.

Commission Videos – Profit bloggers should take a peek at this site. I picked up a calculator for Noah and a notepad/pen/post-its combo for Doug.

Hooked on Phonics – I have never seen Hooked on Phonics anywhere but television commercials. They were giving away free workbooks at BlogHer and as someone who regularly buys workbooks, I have to agree that their books are really good quality. Bright colors, clear instructions and not a lot of pointless repetition. Amy and Evan got workbooks.

Leapfrog – Leapfrog was giving away stuffed animals, so I picked up one for Amy and one for Evan. They had a drawing to give away two of their new handheld games. The new didj is a step up from the Leapster and iQuest with its’ progress reports based on abilities mastered in the educational games. Sarah won a didj and gave it to Amy. Amy is absolutely in love with the didj. I just wish it came with an AC adapter.

LG – This popular booth was promoting their upcoming site for text illiterate parents. I suspect that most of the BlogHers have a pretty good handle on texting, but the site is a good idea for grandparents. “Sarah just sent me a text message and I don’t understand what it means.” LG was handing out laser pens with flash drives. I brought back one for Doug and one for Noah. After they both praised the size of the flash drive, I wished I had gotten one for myself.

PBS – The network which hosts Evan’s beloved Curious George was wisely promoting PBS Engage. Visit the site and collect some new blogs to follow, learn about upcoming live chats and watch videos. I found three new reads there to add to my daily feed. They were also handing out UT orange rubber ducks, so Evan, Amy and Noah got ducks.

Playtex – This incredibly brave crew did video interviews with the over-caffeinated BlogHers, except me, because I have Dr. Girlfriend’s voice. They had baby bottles at their table and I flabbergasted them when I said my five children skipped bottles. Then, I insulted them when I pointed out that they would have trouble convincing moms of product safety as long as it is stamped ‘Made in China’ on the bottom. I’m sorry Playtex. I’m sure your product is awesome. Maybe next year you’ll distribute something different.

Saturn – Who generously provided our transportation from Knoxville to DC and the hybrid VUE which I want to talk about this weekend. They had nylon bags, so Noah got a new bag for toting around airsoft pellets and other boy treasures.

Shine – Shine is a Yahoo site that is like an interactive women’s magazine. They should partner with salons and let women click the site instead of flipping through magazines. The only treasure I kept for myself from BlogHer was the soft, fuzzy Shine slippers. Sarah liked hers so much that she wore them the entire day of BlogHer. She tried to wear them out to dinner that night, but wasn’t stealth enough.

Springpad – A clever online notebook application that I recommend for its’ simplicity. I am trying it out as a holiday planner. So far, it is much better than the multiple lists and scribbles that I have relied on in the past.

If I have forgotten anyone, let me know and I will add them. Their swag made the children almost forgive me for leaving town without them for three days. Almost.

Home Depot and Sephora blend together

// October 7th, 2008 // 3 Comments » // home, me, people, shops, teenagers

Since Sarah kept complaining about Amy using her desk, I dragged Sarah’s old desk out of the garage so that Amy could have a desk of her own. The desk has been in storage for several years and I had forgotten it was multiple pastel colors. Pastel green, yellow and purple are fine for a nursery, but the girls room is teenage funky. I knew that one of the desk colors would be the same raspberry sherbet as their walls. The second color was found on one of Amy’s hair bows. A bright, cheery turquoise blue paint was needed, so I headed to Home Depot before afternoon carpool time. If I go to Home Depot with Doug, I am the invisible consumer. If I go alone, I must look like a complete dimwit who is incapable of buying a hammer and nails. I was asked if I needed help twice before I even reached the paint department. I was barely to the wall of paint chips when a third employee offered assistance. I held out my small child’s turquoise hair bow that was covered in clear sequins and told the employee I was just looking for paint the color of the bow. The man’s shoulders dropped several inches and he shouted out a name that made employee number four magically appear. “She wants paint that matches THIS thing.” The newest helper shook his head a bit and pulled out his radio to call in employee number five. Employee number five was clearly the authority on paint mixing and he quickly took over the drama I had accidentally created. His reading glasses were on the tip of his nose and he studied the bow carefully before telling me to give him 15 minutes to work his magic. I walked a short distance away, not wanting to disturb the territory of yet another employee. After staring at paint brushes and tweeting to pass the time, I returned to the counter. The expert paint mixer held out a sample of the mix in one hand and the hair bow in another hand. He looked at me through his eyebrows to judge my reaction. As I smiled and thanked him, another female customer walked by us. “Oooh, that is SUCH a pretty color.” The expert rolled his eyes all the way into his head. I had to run away before I laughed out loud.

Yesterday, I took Sarah and her friend E to Sephora. I’ve heard the myths, but never braved the beauty mecca. It is everything that you’ve ever heard. There is no color or texture not represented in one of the many lines of makeup. The walls are lined with posters of beautiful people without body hair. Despite all the people trying the samples of powder based products, the store is immaculately clean. Sarah and E were crushed that they were completely invisible to the employees. I could understand them being given no more than one “can I help you with anything” if they were alone, but the employees should have known that when Mom is there too, a sale could be made. On the other hand, every single employee in the store offered to help me. I wandered the many aisles looking at the products not aimed at the under 30 crowd. There were names like – filler, putty, glaze and caulk. Young women just need a splash of any color or glitter and they’re beautiful. Adults are dilapidated shacks who need the kind of makeup they use in funeral parlors. I felt certain that if only I could spend a small fortune on the store’s “repair” products, I would look and feel ten years younger. Unfortunately, filler and putty for the house would be a better investment than spackle and grout for my aging face. The teenagers who were ignored, oddly enough, will be in there every time they have spending money. E and Sarah tried on so many different colors that they looked like peacocks. Thankfully, they didn’t have that hideous wrong foundation line along their jaws, but they had enough eye makeup to last all week. E repeatedly exclaimed, “My mother would kill me if I wore this” and whenever I questioned her the story would change to “Oh, she lets me wear any makeup I want.” I suspect the truth lies somewhere between the two statements. I did refuse to buy one line of products in the store on the grounds that, “If you can’t say it without giggling, you are not mature enough to wear it.” Since I can say it, I think I deserve some though.

Four-eyes

// July 21st, 2008 // 4 Comments » // aspergers, parenting, shops

On Sarah’s birthday, she went to get her driving permit and ended up with glasses instead. Her friends immediately told her that she looks like a librarian. She did not take this as a compliment. Librarians seriously need to work on their public image. A few days after her birthday, we took Sarah and some of her friends to the drive-in. Doug parked next to a pickup filled with teenage boys. The glasses came off instantly and didn’t go back on until it was pitch dark outside. Yesterday, her little brother played with the glasses and lost one of the squishy nose pieces. I picked her up during her band camp break today to go get the glasses repaired. She was not wearing the glasses. “But, I’m on the front row this year.” Contacts for Sarah just scooted up several notches on my priority list.

Tommy had some kind of mystery accident that the optometrist guesses was a gas exposure that destroyed the surface of the lenses on his glasses. Chemistry class? Who knows. He has also chewed off one of the rubber earpiece covers, so he really needed new glasses before we recklessly abandon him safely drop him off at college in 3 weeks. The eyeglasses salesperson should have been selling used cars instead of glasses. Every sentence she said to us started with the words, “since his prescription is so strong”. That was the reason he HAD to have the most expensive lenses. That was the reason we HAD to wait two weeks while they order those expensive lenses instead of just using the ones on stock in the store. That was the reason Tommy HAD to have frames that were smaller than he wanted. She also told me that was the reason I HAD to buy him two pairs. I looked her directly in the eyes and explained that since we HAD to have the very expensive frames and the very expensive lenses, I absolutely couldn’t pay for a second pair. She told me I was “making a mistake not getting a second pair” and I punched her in the face. Not really. She did scold me, but I didn’t punch her. As usual, I said nothing. I just wish I had the courage to ask for a different employee next time I am back in the store. With Amy.

Turkey Creek dragway

// June 28th, 2008 // No Comments » // local, parenting, people, shops, teenagers

If Turkey Creek had been designed to be walkable, they would not have the hordes of spoiled, thug wanna-be teenagers take over the property for drag races late at night. I am a Turkey Creek fan. I love to go there and people watch. I have just never understood why it wasn’t designed more intelligently. People should park their cars and walk everywhere in the complex. The people who approved the strip malls on either side of a highway design deserve to have the late night races all over their landscaped retail world.

I want to say kids will be kids. I want to say live and let live. I just can’t. This bothers me as a parent. The idea of unsupervised drag racing makes my mom alarms flash and ring. I don’t deny that my worry is fueled by the presence of two permit holders in our house. The awareness that all of my children’s peers are also permit holders has me dreaming of a large empty parking lot converted into an obstacle course for safe learning. My teens and their friends probably dream of joining in the late night races at Turkey Creek. I am acutely aware that we shun teens and deny them places to interact. I just don’t think that nitrous cars are a good way to socialize and impress. Turkey Creek needs to tear up that drag strip and replace it with a row of small shops and SIDEWALKS.

McKay’s

// June 9th, 2008 // No Comments » // books, local, shops

A long road trip with five children means lots of books to read. McKay’s has always been one of our favorite places to visit. Since they changed locations, we go less often. Yes, it’s easier to get in and out of the parking lot and there is a lot more parking space, but the experience is just not the same. It feels like they scooted the bookcases far apart instead of adding more books. They pay less for books and refuse more books than they ever did at their old location. The employees have lost their flavor and gone bland. The thing that bothers me the most is the behavior of the customers. In the old location, people were elbow to elbow in the aisles. Strangers discussed books, authors, parenting and politics. It was a calm, happy place to go for books. Now, people don’t make eye contact. It has lost its’ community. I still go to McKay’s a few times a year, but I used to go once a week. I’m sure McKay’s doesn’t notice the change. I feel it though.

Steve & Barry’s

// June 7th, 2008 // 2 Comments » // shops

After hearing repeatedly about the inexpensive (made in sweatshops) clothing at Steve and Barry’s, we finally decided to trek East to see the store for ourselves. I walked down the middle of the aisle with Amy while Sarah looked at clothes. I did my very best imitation of Mr.Spock. “Yes, that shirt is blue.” The key is to express neither like nor dislike. The entire women’s area looked like it was designed for teenagers. The clothes are cute and very low price. Sarah was thrilled. We came upon one of several printed t-shirt areas. I had to break character. “No. That shirt has a different meaning.” Sarah got annoyed with my intolerance for the shirt humor and went to try on a pair of pants. Doug came walking up. I started to complain about the messages on the ladies’ shirts and he interrupted me to tell me that he just kicked Noah out of the men’s t-shirt area. I might be willing to drive out to the country to visit this store in the future, but not with the children along. The t-shirt messages are the kind of messages you see in shops along the beach in spring break towns. Alcohol, drugs and very blatant sexual innuendo. It’s not the ones that my children see and know are inappropriate that is the problem as much as the ones that they don’t understand and want to argue with me about. “What’s wrong with this shirt?” I answer my children’s questions when they come in the course of normal events, but if shopping means explaining drug humor and sexual behaviors, I think it would be easier to just shop somewhere else.