Enough to make you cranky

As we all know, customer service no longer exists. But I am completely convinced that Target is intentionally trying to become the most obnoxious discount store there is, (save of course, the Evil Empire which I refuse to enter.)

Our local Target (also the only store in the area for most things such as toilet paper and detergent) has been rearranging all summer, which means not only is nothing where it should be, but they never have anything in stock. When you dare ask somebody to pull away from their current task of say, moving the diapers from the baby department to the electronics department (seriously,) they look at you with astonished indignation, and respond “I dunno where it is, sorry.” And then they walk away.

It’s a lovely experience and makes shopping much like a scavenger hunt or a chose your own adventure novel.

Last evening I had the pleasure of such an adventure when I needed to run over for a quick item from the baby department, after Evie was in bed. I went at 9pm, they were open until 10pm. After I wandered around like a detective, or perhaps an action hero, making my way though a jungle of debris and hidden clues, I found my item and went to the front, I was in the check-out lane by 9:30, this means they still had 30 minutes for “guests” to enter the doors. Yet only one register was open, even though there was a long line of very tired people standing there. There was also a long line of red shirt, khaki pant wearing people standing around at the front, joking and making plans for their after-work activities. However, none of them opened a new lane, or acknowledged the ever growing serpentine of cranky people filling the front aisle.

The line of people was only made longer and more agitated by the fact that the customer at the actual register was clueless and chose that particular moment, (the moment she arrived at the register,) to allow her two toddlers to select candy from the next aisle over. Their decision was not made easily and thus we had to wait while the children deliberated in one aisle and the mother walked from the register around the end cap, discussed, debated, walked back to the register, told the employee it would just be another moment and then we waited some more. The team of red shirts just stood there and watched the show play out, and yet made no move to open another lane for the rest of us while we stood there, waiting.

I stood, sulking, wanting nothing more than to go home, but having already made the trek on my bad ankle, in my lame boot, walking through the store, hacking through the shelves, not wanting to now give up. Finally, at 9:45, I made it up to the register.

The employee did not speak to me or make eye contact, as had been the case with the people in front of me. She simply grabbed the merchandise with disdain, flung it across the scanner, shoved it in the bag and then barked the price.

I left, passing the growing crowd of loitering employees counting the minutes until the store closed. It really was a testament to fine salesmanship.