Friday, May 01, 2009
I'm not buying
The other night on the way home from dinner I stopped to browse at my local branch of a national bookstore chain. Barnes and Noble? Nope. Borders? Not quite.

It was Books-A-Million, the RC Cola of bookstores. They should call it Customers-A-Dozen, because the joint's always empty. I soon discovered why.

I made the mistake of walking up to a young, perky woman at the unfortunately named Joe Muggs Cafe (get it? like "a cup of joe". HAHAHAHAHAHA. Die). I asked for a medium iced mocha.

Perky gal: "Are you sure you wouldn't like a large? Only fifty cents more and you get an extra four ounces." She said this in as condescending a tone as possible, because obviously medium is really only for suckers who don't know the concept of value.

Me: "No, medium is fine. Thanks."

Perky gal: "Could I interest you in one of our baked goods? I baked the cookies myself this evening." She really said this.

What I wanted to say: "Really? You put some frozen cookies in the microwave to thaw? All by yourself? You're like a slightly less-retarded Rachel Ray."

What I actually said: "No thanks."

Perky gal: "Do you have a Millionaire's Club Card?"

Me: "No."

Perky gal: "Would you like to sign up for one (doesn't give me a chance to answer)? Right now it will only cost 18 dollars instead of the regular price of 20 dollars."

I just want an iced mocha. An iced motherfucking mocha. Put some ice and milk in a fucking cup, press a button to make espresso, add the espresso to the iced milk, give it two squirts of chocolate syrup, and if you don't mind, stir. I'm sure it'll be the tast-tast-tastiest mocha since Bing Crosby shared a drink with Danny Fucking Kaye.

Me: (grunt while shaking my head 'no')

Borders, a bookstore with actual customers, gives their discount card away for free. I still don't have one, because they track your purchases and I never wanted Dick Cheney to know how many books I purchased with the words "Bush" and "treason" in the title.

A few minutes later, she heads toward me with my drink. I can almost taste both the iced mocha and sweet sweet freedom. But she isn't done.

Perky gal: "Would you like to sign up for two free magazine subscriptions?"

What? Jesus. Who is this girl's boss, Alec Baldwin's character from Glengarry Glen Ross? I can only imagine his motivation techniques:

"You see this custom-made Joe Muggs apron I'm wearing? It cost more than your fucking car!"

"Who am I? I make seventy-five cents an hour more than you. That's who the fuck I am!"

Can any of this be good for business? This upsell bullshit was undoubtedly proposed by some corporate drone who doesn't have to deal with the public on a daily basis.


Blogger Ian McGibboney said...

I think even Alec Baldwin would have thrown those steak knives at her.

Blogger Jo said...

Starbucks give you FOUR pumps of mocha in your iced grande mocha. Quit screwing around with amateurs!

Blogger Great Big Nerd said...

Places like that always remind me of the scene in "Young Frankenstein":

Frau Blücher: Would the doctor care for a brandy before retiring?
Frankenstein: No. Thank you.
Frau Blücher: Some varm milk... perhaps?
Frankenstein: No... thank you very much. No thanks.
Frau Blücher: Ovaltine?
Frankenstein: NOTHING! Thank you! I'm a little - tired!
Frau Blücher: Then I vill say... goodnight.
Frankenstein: Goodnight!

When they ask me all that bullshit I just stare at them until they start to feel uncomfortable and get pissed off at me.

Blogger UberDILF said...

I want to film a documentary of you and Dr. Monkey teaming up to torture corporate shills.

Blogger Miss Pants said...

How terribly fucking annoying. UGH.

Blogger Johnny Yen said...

At Jewel's, one of our big grocery chains, they were haivng the cashiers try to sell stuff at the register-- "Would you be interested in Acme chocolate chip cookies today?" My response was "Obviously a middle manager was hard-pressed for ideas."

Fortunately, they installed the self-checkouts, so I could avoid the hard sell. And they eventually realized that it was a stupid and annoying idea and stopped doing it.

Next time, pretend that your English skills are limited, then pretend to be coming on to her. "Yes, you come to ma house and we make boom-boom, okay?" That should shut her right the fuck up. Of course, if it doesn't, you could have an even bigger problem.

Blogger Kat Skratch said...

Haha, hey, I'm in Seattle, coffee central. We do it right... But we deal with the same bullshit. Oh, except here to compete we get 'naughty lingerie baristas.' (I shit you not.) So I take my mocha to go after some perky girl with little tatas freezing her ass of in the rain has to go through the whole schpeal. :) Somehow this also amuses me.
Thanks for the laugh this morning mate.

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Post a Comment

<< Home