cdbeaver
Member
I suppose every one by now is tired of hearing the old WalMart stories about lousy clerks, terrible service, stupid people and all the rest. Hear one more that isn't all bad . . . probably about average.
First and only stop, the sporting goods counter. Had the place all to myself. No customers, no clerk. After about five minutes or so I spotted the familiar WalMart vest and asked if the clerk could send some one to the sporting goods counter to help a customer.
The guy apologized to me. "Just had to leave for a minute to help another customer," he said. Good grief . . . helped a customer.
I asked to see the Ruger stainless deLuxe sporter .22 autoloader in the gun cabinet. The gentleman took his key from around his wrist, opened the case and handed me the rifle.
I looked at it, checked it out, fondled it and said "I'll take it." He got out the necessary forms, I got out my pen and filled in the necessary blanks. "Are we ready for money yet?" I asked.
Nope. Had to wait for a manager-type to appear, check out the paper work, look important, and walk me out the door after the transaction was completed.
"We can't call a manager until all the paper work is done," the clerk said. "Sure, I understand. Keep the customer waiting, not the boss," I said. The clerk just acquired a sort of resigned look on his face.
Twent minutes and three phone/loudspeaker announcements later, the clerk answered his phone and was advised the manager would be along shortly.
When he arrived, the manager took one look at the paperwork and said, "This is no good. It has to be filled out in black ink. Do it over again."
I'd used my own pen, something I always do under every circumstance. Just a quirk of mine. It uses a blue cartridge. Any way both the clerk and I had to do it all over again.
Finally after more than an hour of fiddling around, the manager recorded the rifle serial number, stuffed the gun in its container, taped it shut and said, "We can go to the door now. Then you can open the box, load the rifle and come back in and shoot people. But at least I got you out the door. He was only being a bit sarcastic about store policy.
Guess, in retrospect, it wasn't such a hassle after all. Just not like it used to be. But then, hardly anything is these days.
First and only stop, the sporting goods counter. Had the place all to myself. No customers, no clerk. After about five minutes or so I spotted the familiar WalMart vest and asked if the clerk could send some one to the sporting goods counter to help a customer.
The guy apologized to me. "Just had to leave for a minute to help another customer," he said. Good grief . . . helped a customer.
I asked to see the Ruger stainless deLuxe sporter .22 autoloader in the gun cabinet. The gentleman took his key from around his wrist, opened the case and handed me the rifle.
I looked at it, checked it out, fondled it and said "I'll take it." He got out the necessary forms, I got out my pen and filled in the necessary blanks. "Are we ready for money yet?" I asked.
Nope. Had to wait for a manager-type to appear, check out the paper work, look important, and walk me out the door after the transaction was completed.
"We can't call a manager until all the paper work is done," the clerk said. "Sure, I understand. Keep the customer waiting, not the boss," I said. The clerk just acquired a sort of resigned look on his face.
Twent minutes and three phone/loudspeaker announcements later, the clerk answered his phone and was advised the manager would be along shortly.
When he arrived, the manager took one look at the paperwork and said, "This is no good. It has to be filled out in black ink. Do it over again."
I'd used my own pen, something I always do under every circumstance. Just a quirk of mine. It uses a blue cartridge. Any way both the clerk and I had to do it all over again.
Finally after more than an hour of fiddling around, the manager recorded the rifle serial number, stuffed the gun in its container, taped it shut and said, "We can go to the door now. Then you can open the box, load the rifle and come back in and shoot people. But at least I got you out the door. He was only being a bit sarcastic about store policy.
Guess, in retrospect, it wasn't such a hassle after all. Just not like it used to be. But then, hardly anything is these days.