Never Never Again Land--Thoughts on a Bad Experience at BestBuy

The initial point of this experience.

Me at a happier time--with Brent in NY Central Park.

I decided that I would break my usual habit of ordering ink cartridge replacements on-line.  It seems so easy to look up the part number and find the best price, click it into my "basket," click on the basket icon, click CHECK OUT--and two days later, a box full of ink cartridges appears on my front porch, behind the ficus bonsai trees and across from the pitcher plant.  Sometimes I hear the quick, single FWAP! our UPS man makes with the knuckle of his forefinger before he turns and strides back to his brown truck.  (I LIKE our UPS man . . . but then I like most people who bring me good things and don't ask me to babysit their children.)

The printer cartridges.  I decided to order them "For Personal, Same Day Pick Up" from the Best Buy store located off the next exit south of us, off I-95.  I paid for my order of 4 color combination (three colors all in one box) and 6 black and white (each in its own little box).  The email receipt came immediately--with a last line that read DON'T COME IN TO PICK UP YOUR ITEMS UNTIL YOU RECEIVE AN EMAIL FROM US TELLING YOU THAT YOUR ORDER IS READY.  Small print afterwards:  It usually takes about 45 minutes to process your order.

Me at a happier time--tour guide during the
Fort Lauderdale FL Temple open house.

I waited . . . an hour went by as I did some on-line homework . . . refreshed my email.  Nothing.  I waited . . . another hour went by and I folded a load of laundry and ate some Greek coconut yoghurt . . . still no email from BestBuy.  I decided that I had waited long enough.  I got in the car and took the next freeway exit South to the store.  After waiting in line for the salesfemale to process someone who had bought a washing machine, I was ignored for about 15 minutes.  When the person looked up and asked me what I wanted, I gave her my last name and the order number.  She then tried to find the order on her computer--which wasn't working at that moment.  She went to another computer, a few feet to her right, muttering that the computer system was really slow.  Finally she found the order and then opened a cabinet to her right, attached to the wall.  She fished around until she located one lump--the coloured ink cartridges all taped together with a label that had my name and order number on it.

She asked for my ID and the credit card I'd used to make the purchase--and then went back to her computer for a couple of minutes.  When she finished, she handed my cards back to me and the small bundle she had found.  I waited for a minute--and she looked up at me.
me:   "I ordered both black and coloured ink cartridges.  Aren't the black ones with the order?"
her:   "Yeah--both kinds are on your order, but the black ones are on order at another store.  It's just a few minutes from here.  You take I-95 south a couple of exits, turn left and it's on your right.  It's easy to find--you can see it from the freeway."
me:   Silence.
me:   "I selected this store as my pick-up point."
her:   "It's just a few minutes from here.  You take I-95 south a couple of exits, turn left and it's on your right.  It's easy to find--you can see it from the freeway."
me:   Silence . . . and the realization that there was nothing to do but get into my car and drive the 30 minutes to the BestBuy South of us.

Me at a happier time--in Utah last year.

I was not happy and did not wish that she would have a nice day.  I was irked and wished that I had not just ordered the ink cartridges on-line for next day delivery.  The cost of the gas needed to get to and return from the next BestBuy meant that I was spending lots more than shipping would have cost.

I got onto I-95 and drove 25 minutes South, took the exit, turned left and left my car in the parking lot outside the store.

I walked into the store and asked where Customer Pick-Up was located.  I was directed to a long desk on my right.  A customer was talking to a Sales Associate under the Customer Service sign hanging from the ceiling.  At the next computer, under the Customer Pick-Up sign, was another Sales Associate standing behind a computer screen--talking on her cell phone.

I walked up and got out my ID and credit card and the order number.  After talking with her sister or girlfriend a few more minutes (while I watched her with a steady, unblinking look), and then hung up.
her:  "What can I help you with?"
me:   "I need to pick up an on-line order."

Me at a happier time--another day as a tour guide
at the Fort Lauderdale FL Temple open house.

Thankfully, her computer was in good working order and she quickly located my order.  After calling over someone to help her find the cartridges in a large bin located in a closet built into the wall behind her, she took my cards and proceeded to ring up my order.  There were 6 small, black ink cartridges, (individually packaged) piled on the counter.  She then put them in a bag--and then asked for my credit card again.  Apparently only 5 of them had been charged--she fished out one of them and added it to the total, handed me my card, and told me to have a good day as she looked down at the cell phone she took out of her pocket.
I went to my car (by now a toasty 105 degrees inside since there were no shaded parking places in the parking lot) and drove home:  silently vowing never to make the mistake of picking up something I'd ordered on-line at a BestBuy store.  I listened to NPR on the drive home.  Installing the new ink cartridge took me about 5 minutes.  (The most difficult part was cutting through the packaging.)  I stored the other cartridges in a small cupboard near the printer.

The experience was completed.

The next day, I got an email asking me to fill out a survey based on my experience with In-Store Pick-Up at BestBuy.

It was good that I had 24 hours to calm down before the email came--but I was still fairly drawn to the "Not Satisfactory" side of the answer grid.

Up-side to the experience?  It is good to know that this was something that I would never do again.  There are few such certainties that a person is able to attain to during her lifetime.