I slept with Omar last night.
Oh don’t get all self-righteous on me. It wasn’t my fault.
It all began rather innocently, but then, don’t all one night stands?
I was trying to track down an errant shipment.
One placed over a month ago.
One for which I have an order number that works and a USPS tracking number that doesn’t work. It’s invalid.
In very late October I ordered three Christmas presents, on-line, from a national retailer who dropped their ampersand last name in favor of a giant “K”. It’s December now and the gifts still have not arrived.
I went online to track them only to discover the tracking number is not valid.
I launched a chat with someone in the retailer’s on-line customer service department located in India, Guatemala, Outer Mongolia, or some other non-English speaking country. They gave me my order number and the same USPS tracking number I already have. I was then told because I had ordered on-line I would need to contact the customer service department via telephone.
I called the number, spoke to Keisha, who told me I would have to call a different number and that came after I was told the system was updating and she could not make any promises as to whether or not she would even be able to retrieve my information. I informed Keisha that she was useless. She agreed. I called the other number and got some voice mail.
I was pissed. I called the local store and spoke to Stephanie who swore she would resolve my problem. I was accidently (yeah, right) transferred to John in “Security and Validation” who told me, and I quote, “you got the one department that has access to less information than anyone.” He was going to transfer me to Keshandra.
I was disconnected.
I was under-medicated for this problem, and not drinking yet.
Now two hours in to this process I was not giving up. I dialed the local customer service number and Omar answered.
Omar is not local. He works at the retailer’s customer service center in Arizona. He assured me he could help, after his system updates annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd reboots. He did hang in there though.
I began to drink.
During the reboot process I learned that Omar needs a haircut, likes his 501 Levis, is a surfer, has been to the North Shore, and suffers from neuralgia.
We had become intimate.
I informed Omar that I was a writer, was up before “OMG it’s early” every morning, and in about two more minutes I would be asleep. That means officially he and I slept together and I would tell the world of this fact.
He blushed. I could feel the heat through the phone.
That statement did not get me the answer that I was seeking. He did, however, offer a three-way.
Telephone conference that is. With Maya.
The two-way was more fun.
Maya told me her system was updating and asked if I would mind calling back in 30 or 40 minutes.
Up until this point I had been a sweet southern lady. I now became one pissed off bitch. With Omar, my one night Arizona stand still on the phone, I informed Maya that I would not call back. That this was not my problem it was hers. That I had now spent 16 days on the phone and been around the world with the customer service departments of this retailer, had not enjoyed one minute of the trip, and I would not hang up until I got a satisfactory answer.
It wasn’t long before Omar said he had to leave. Something about me screwing up his statistics.
That wasn’t all I was going to screw up.
I told Omar good-night but kept Maya on the phone. Omar had, after all, been the only fun part of this entire process. Maya told me I would need to call the voice mail number again. I told her I would call the Better Business Bureau.
She told me I had not actually purchased the product from this giant retailer and I would need to contact the third party vendor – the owner of the voice mail telephone number. I told her I had, in fact, purchased it on their website and they had, in fact, received the money. I also informed her that this giant retailer had more power over the crappy third party vendor than I would ever have and that if said giant retailer allowed crappy third party vendors to advertise on the giant retailer’s website, then they should fire the crappy third party vendors.
The only thing Maya could say was, “I understand your frustration.”
Trust me. She didn’t have a clue about my frustration.
It was becoming evident that my one night stand was ending in a stand-off.
I believe Maya was trained by guerillas. She hung in there. We ended with her promise (yeah, right) that some senior person at this giant retailer would contact the third party vendor and I would receive a call within 24 hours to let me know where my Christmas gifts are.
As soon as the BBB opens this morning I am going to place a call to them.
Do you think it’s possible to lodge a complaint against this giant retailer and then ask them for Omar’s direct number? I’d love to let him know I’ve reported our one-night stand to the rest of the world.
(This one’s for you Omar. I keep my promises.)
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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