Domestic Psychology

Next time, I’ll shop online

// June 1st, 2012 // 2 Comments » // people, shops

I stood in line to pay for a chunk of plastic. Technically, it was a seat for the zipline, but if you looked at it, you saw a blue piece of plastic. There was only one register open and several people were in line behind me. Two of those people had very unhappy little people weeping in the baby seats of their shopping carts. Actually, one was a standing, screaming toddler being wrestled back into the seat, but you get the idea. We’ve all been there.

Clerk: ” Would you like to buy some batteries?”
Me: “No thank you.”
Clerk: “Would you like to purchase the extended warranty?”
Me: “No thank you.”
Clerk: “Would you like to join our shopper reward program?”
Me: “No.”
Clerk: “It only takes a few minutes to register for it.”
Me: “Please take my money and let me leave.”

I understand that retail stores are in business to sell things. In addition to those upselling training videos, there needs to be a common sense video. Moms and children who have miserable shopping experiences are not going to be return customers. Moms with wailing children who get a sympathetic clerk expediting their check-out will be return customers.

Besides, nobody needs an extended warranty for a chunk of plastic.

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?

What you can have is what you should want

// October 11th, 2011 // No Comments » // me

If you want to be a happy shopper, walk into the store or pull up the storefront and choose from the options before you. I want to be happy, but I don’t shop that way. I am a self destructive shopper. I get ideas about what would be a great gift for someone without considering what actually exists. I have a mental idea of the type of shirt I want before looking to see what my choices are for a new or new to me shirt.

Because I do it wrong, shopping is frustrating to me. It is a chore instead of the fun that the rest of the world seems to experience when shopping. I deliberately avoid professional shopping holidays like the day after Thanksgiving. It’s just not my thing.

Part of me feels like I am broken. My operating system is lacking the shopping app. Another part of me feels like advertising agencies are not doing their job to program my subconscious to want what they are selling. More than either of those feelings, I feel like, regardless of the mountains of petroleum based, made everywhere but America products in the marketplace, there are still limitless quantities of innovation and creativity that are waiting to be developed.

Cathy shopping

// October 4th, 2011 // No Comments » // me

1. Click. Click-click-clickity-click. Click.
2. Wait.
3. Beeeeep.
4. Riiiip.
5. Enjoy new item.

Doug shopping

// October 4th, 2011 // No Comments » // clothing, Doug

How Doug shops for anything at the hardware-ish store:
1. Visually survey all possible options.
2. Pick up and touch each option.
3. Use app to read reviews of each option.
4. Interview two store employees about each option.
5. Use another app to price check each option.
6. Think of an alternative technique involving completely different materials.
7. Repeat steps 1 – 6 with alternative technique’s materials.
8. Decide original method is preferrable.
9. Return to studying original options.
10. Choose item.
11. Question your choice the entire ride home.
12. Use item and rejoice.

How Doug shops for clothing:
1. Walk to nearest store employee.
2. Point to a mannequin.
3. Say, “I’ll take that outfit.”
4. Pay for clothing.

Shopping with Evan

// March 27th, 2011 // 3 Comments » // kid quotes, parenting

Me: “We are here to buy your friend a birthday gift. We are not shopping for Evan today.”
Evan: “Okay.”
Me: “How about this? Would your friend like this?”
Evan: “That one is better.”
Me: “Then we will get it for your friend.”
Evan: “Nooooo. That’s for me.”
Me: “What are we going to get for your friend?”
Evan: “I guess we can get this one.”
Me: “Is this for you or your friend?”
Evan: “Me.”
Me: “The next thing you pick up is going to be for your friend and not for you.”
Evan: “Give him that.”
Me: “That’s a wonderful gift for your friend. Mommy needs to get some dish soap and then we will go to the cashiers.”
Evan: “No. You can’t buy stuff for you. We are only here for my friend’s gift.”

Dear courier,

// December 16th, 2010 // No Comments » // holidays

UPS, FedEx, USPS, random guy who owns a U-haul and anyone else hired to deliver online purchases have difficult jobs. This winter’s weather has made driving more challenging than usual. I know that the fine print underneath the “rain, hail, sleet or snow” delivery service pledge says, “except for that hilly neighborhood in Knoxville with trees that prevent the icy streets from melting.”

This week, I got e-mails that said “we didn’t even try to deliver in your neighborhood that should be used as the demolition track in a video game.” Maybe they didn’t say exactly that, but that was their meaning. The first time it happened, it was funny. The second time I got an explanation why my tracking info read “out for delivery” and wasn’t delivered, I got a teensy-tiny bit stressed. Or a lot stressed. Neither is a good thing.

As Christmas is next week and I bravely (or foolishly) did all my shopping up to this point online, I really, really need my packages delivered. So, instead of sending me a ‘why you didn’t deliver’ e-mail, how about calling me on the phone ahead of time and telling me when you will be driving down the heavily salted road that has the entrance to our neighborhood. I will be waiting on that heavily travelled road and you can toss my packages out the door of your vehicle at me.

I think this is a win-win compromise for everyone. You won’t have to send me an e-mail. Your route will get done faster. My dogs won’t bark themselves hoarse. I will have one less thing to worry about. Everybody wins. Do we have a deal?

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!

how not to shop

// June 20th, 2010 // No Comments » // clothing

After many weeks of listening to “I don’t have aaaaanything to wear” whines several times a day, I took the clothing-deprived complainer to a discount department store. Before we walked in the store, I asked what our focus would be. “I definitely need shoes. I also need pants and shirts. Oh, also socks and underwear.”

I wandered the clearance and sale racks, collecting more than a dozen potential clothing choices. As I did, my companion picked two black shirts to show me. I stood and waited while the mountain of options disappeared into the dressing room.

Another woman stood nearby, shouting at an unseen person in the dressing room. “Come out here so I can see if it fits.” The unseen shopper answered. “These pants are itchy. Can’t I just get jeans?” I could see the woman’s frustration, but missed the rest of their conversation as I wandered off to search the clearance rack for anything I might have missed. Nearby, a woman fussed with her shopping partner about the patterns on the t-shirts. “You don’t need any more shirts with dragons on them.” “But, this one has TWO dragons.”

My companion emerged from the dressing room. “I like these shirts, but the pants don’t fit.” We played 20 100 questions as I tried to figure out what “don’t fit” really meant. I collected different pant sizes while my shopping buddy took a potty break.

I checked e-mail, twittered and contemplated the condition of my toenail polish while the second round of pants were tested for fit. “They all fit and this pair is awesome. Feel how smooth they are. Really. Feel this fabric.”

We wandered to the shoe department. A woman walked around mumbling to herself. “Why do I have to buy them, take them home and bring them back four times just to get one pair he’ll wear?” A pitiful shopper whimpered, “I like my oooold shoes. New shoes make my feet hurt.” My companion scowled and passed judgment on the entire department in 30 seconds. “They don’t have any good shoes here.”

We checked out and walked to the car. “Why did you make me buy clothes?” Next year, every woman in that store should buy their shopping companions spouses iTunes instead of clothes for Father’s Day. Unfortunately, I still have to take Doug shoe shopping.

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.