"We don't have any," he muttered.
Posted: Thu Feb 13, 2025 9:36 am
The real pain of retail gone wrong: the enthusiastic cooler, "corporate," and the man who could barely stand
"Hello," I greeted the staff at the customer service counter of the large department store. "Where can I get a small cooler?"
“You don’t have a cooler? Like, an Igloo cooler to take on a picnic to keep things cool?”
"Maybe over there," he waved his hand absentmindedly.
And I stood there for a minute, expecting him belize number data actually figure it out for me, perhaps guide me to the appropriate aisle, or ask a manager to help me with my transaction if necessary. But in his silence I walked away.
"Hello," I tried with more explanation the next day at a locally owned general store. "Where can I get something like a small Igloo cooler to keep things cool at a picnic?"
"I don't know," the staff replied.
"Oh..." I said anxiously.
"It could be upstairs somewhere," he risked, leaving me to search the second floor, which was likely intended as a non-code-compliant catch-all attic for random stuff, where I applied to another dimly lit employee who told me I should probably go downstairs and ask my question to someone else.
"Hello," I greeted the staff at the customer service counter of the large department store. "Where can I get a small cooler?"
“You don’t have a cooler? Like, an Igloo cooler to take on a picnic to keep things cool?”
"Maybe over there," he waved his hand absentmindedly.
And I stood there for a minute, expecting him belize number data actually figure it out for me, perhaps guide me to the appropriate aisle, or ask a manager to help me with my transaction if necessary. But in his silence I walked away.
"Hello," I tried with more explanation the next day at a locally owned general store. "Where can I get something like a small Igloo cooler to keep things cool at a picnic?"
"I don't know," the staff replied.
"Oh..." I said anxiously.
"It could be upstairs somewhere," he risked, leaving me to search the second floor, which was likely intended as a non-code-compliant catch-all attic for random stuff, where I applied to another dimly lit employee who told me I should probably go downstairs and ask my question to someone else.