I heard the story about the guy who took the sticker off of a low priced item, stuck it on the box for a flat screen TV, and went through self check out. So, I understand that these things do happen. And most, when caught will say it was accidental. And I do recognize that stores lose giant amounts of merchandise each year to shoplifting and retail shrinking (getting a lower price incorrectly).
And I understand that often the big box stores maintain those low, low prices by not carrying a lot of staff to assist customers, monitor them, or keep the stock in order.
My mother and I were shopping in a discount store and we were looking at golf bags, since she wanted to buy one for my brother. We noticed that one of the golf bags had been marked (by the store - this was an attached price tag) at a lower price than the others. So understandably, we bought that one. When the cashier rang it up, he was surprised and called for a price check. My mother politely pointed out that the price was marked clearly on the item. The cashier called for a manager. The manager looked at the price tag, agreed that that was how it had been marked, and had the cashier ring it up at that price. He also, very nicely, asked us if we had noticed any other bags marked with that price. (We had not.)
Errors happen. Things end up mis-marked, or in the wrong box or what have you. But, it seems to me the solution is to assume that while the customer wants a great deal, the customer is not necessarily trying to screw over the store.
This is why I am so saddened to read the story of the Wall Street Journal editor who was detained in Kmart after she placed a pair of flip flops in the wrong box. Now, I understand that by placing the flip flops in the box, it gave the appearance of retail shrinkage. And, the store didn't break any laws and apparently acted within its standards. But, it would seem to me that for a scenario where we are detaining someone who just bought $800 worth of stuff, that for the $8 difference it might be worthwhile to assume human error. But maybe I am naive. Perhaps they assume that the $8 of retail shrinkage is part of a pattern of behavior and that they are better off losing this customer (since they told her never to return) than taking the risk.
I think perhaps if the shelves were not so often in disarray, then it would be easier to spot customers who really are trying to ticket switch, but I guess it costs less money to get rid of your current customers than to hire more staff.
Rants About New (and old) Things
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Book Update
Since I whined about it, I went to my favorite Border's and they had the Crazy Aunt Purl book (Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair, which on the price tag is hilariously shortened to Crazy Aunt Purl's Drunk Divorce) and it's not October yet so, ha!
And I have already finished it, and it was wonderful. If you have read the blog, the voice is the same. I really enjoyed it. Even if you haven't had your husband tell you at the dinner table that he is leaving you, I still think there is something everyone can relate to in having your plans crumble and having to come up with new ones. And there are 14 patterns in the book too.
And I have already finished it, and it was wonderful. If you have read the blog, the voice is the same. I really enjoyed it. Even if you haven't had your husband tell you at the dinner table that he is leaving you, I still think there is something everyone can relate to in having your plans crumble and having to come up with new ones. And there are 14 patterns in the book too.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Not That Old
Somewhere around twenty four it seems, the signs started. Things that indicated I was old. Not decrepit or ancient, but not so young either. After you pass twenty one and possibly twenty five - the age of car rentals and car insurance discounts - most of the age marks seem to be about being old. Um, yay?
But really, the twenties were fun, but I happily moved on from them, because thirty was wise and mature but not old, right? But then there was the fifteen year high school reunion, making me a whole high schooler worth of time away from high school, and the ten year college reunion and then they started having special re-releases of movies from my teen years, like "Dirty Dancing". How is "Dirty Dancing" twenty years old? How am I old enough that people my age have somehow found time to make millions, get married, have kids, get divorced, and/or travel the world? Huh? And it doesn't help that by UU sub-divisions I age out of young adult-hood in a little over a year. But I'm still feel young. Really. (And I do know that all of these things are arbitrary and in many ways meaningless, but, still.)
And now the freaking American Girls are in on it. Apparently the latest doll is from the historic 1970's. (I heard about this here.)
The 1970's are in the past, and okay, it's apparently far back enough that there's been a sitcom about it for a while. But for some reason that didn't bug me. I was just a tiny thing in the 70's, so a story about teens in the 70's is a story about people older than me (yes, it is twisted logic, I am quite proud of it.) And, I know that this really means they ran out of decades although it seems they have some gaps - might I suggest the 20's, the 50s and the 60s. But my life is now historical. What? Just because I remember the Berlin Wall coming down doesn't make me historical. I am young. Stop trying to make me think otherwise.
But really, the twenties were fun, but I happily moved on from them, because thirty was wise and mature but not old, right? But then there was the fifteen year high school reunion, making me a whole high schooler worth of time away from high school, and the ten year college reunion and then they started having special re-releases of movies from my teen years, like "Dirty Dancing". How is "Dirty Dancing" twenty years old? How am I old enough that people my age have somehow found time to make millions, get married, have kids, get divorced, and/or travel the world? Huh? And it doesn't help that by UU sub-divisions I age out of young adult-hood in a little over a year. But I'm still feel young. Really. (And I do know that all of these things are arbitrary and in many ways meaningless, but, still.)
And now the freaking American Girls are in on it. Apparently the latest doll is from the historic 1970's. (I heard about this here.)
The 1970's are in the past, and okay, it's apparently far back enough that there's been a sitcom about it for a while. But for some reason that didn't bug me. I was just a tiny thing in the 70's, so a story about teens in the 70's is a story about people older than me (yes, it is twisted logic, I am quite proud of it.) And, I know that this really means they ran out of decades although it seems they have some gaps - might I suggest the 20's, the 50s and the 60s. But my life is now historical. What? Just because I remember the Berlin Wall coming down doesn't make me historical. I am young. Stop trying to make me think otherwise.
Monday, September 24, 2007
The SKINny
Note: Contains reference to a racist sports team name.
I am a bit sad over the Redskins loss. The first home game, I was traveling back from Maryland's Eastern Shore, so listened on the radio. This means that I missed the awful new light uniforms. Look, I understand wanting to integrate more color into the light uniform - I'm sure the Skins laundry service in particular is grateful. Yellow is a very nice color, but there are many many shades of it, and many many ways we could could have added yellow without making the Skins look as is they had been caught in a mustard storm of some sort.
I don't care if they are retro, that doesn't make it any less ugly. Also, just because 75 years ago someone thought this looked good, doesn't make them any more correct.
For much of the game I had better things to pay attention to, but then there was the second half. I know 2-1 certainly isn't the end of the world, but being undefeated was such a nice thing while it lasted.
I am a bit sad over the Redskins loss. The first home game, I was traveling back from Maryland's Eastern Shore, so listened on the radio. This means that I missed the awful new light uniforms. Look, I understand wanting to integrate more color into the light uniform - I'm sure the Skins laundry service in particular is grateful. Yellow is a very nice color, but there are many many shades of it, and many many ways we could could have added yellow without making the Skins look as is they had been caught in a mustard storm of some sort.
I don't care if they are retro, that doesn't make it any less ugly. Also, just because 75 years ago someone thought this looked good, doesn't make them any more correct.
For much of the game I had better things to pay attention to, but then there was the second half. I know 2-1 certainly isn't the end of the world, but being undefeated was such a nice thing while it lasted.
Friday, September 21, 2007
In the Presence of the Harlot
So I traveled across the great river into the wilds of Virginia to see the Yarn Harlot last night.* (Warning: Long post ahead!)
Despite internet chatter suggesting people had taken whole days off to stake out the Borders in question, I went renegade and left work at approximately my normal time and headed there.
I walked in and the first thing I saw was a staffer at a table with Harlot gear. He handed me my post it and my number (97). I told him I had been to Nora signings and author conventions, 97 was fine.
I then tried to find the craft section (accosting a lovely lady looking for the restroom since she had a gorgeous knitting bag, so I thought she might have scoped it out) to try and find the newly released Crazy Aunt Purl book.
I found the section, but not the book. I found other knitters. I spread the word of Knitting Daily and the Modern Quilt Wrap that has seduced me.
I found a staffer to ask about the book, and after taking me to the section I had just been to, she looked it up and told me that their computer was telling me that it was not available until October. I apologize to the young staffer for arguing (although politely with her). My frustration came from the fact that while I knew the original release date was October, I also knew the book had been released early and had in fact confirmed that morning on the Borders website that the book was in stock at that very store. Sadly, the computer that still said 10/15 won the day. Especially since, with a house-full of book reading knitters, an opportunity was lost.
It was great being in a room with so many knitters. Looking around, peaking at what people were working on and wearing. I confess, I got very few names, and remember even less of them (sorry). But there were lovely people everywhere. I sat between someone who had only recently began yarning again when her daughter asked her to teach her crochet and another woman who just started knitting a few weeks ago and was working on her very first project: a pink garter stitch scarf. (I told her that was my first project and my first UFO.)
There were men, there were babies, there were folks of all ages. I saw someone with a finished Mystery Stole (I really need to get going on mine). There were sweaters and socks and gloves and scarves and, of course, hats.
The Cafe was a little unprepared for hungry knitters, but worked valiantly. There were many, many chairs.
And then Stephanie came.
I will not even pretend I can do justice to the ninety minutes or so that she spoke. But there were lists. There was talk of knitter prejudice. There was talk of how when she tried Knitters Without Borders this past fall she was told by experts that she was setting herself up for failure because fundraising is one thing when there is a disaster but it is very difficult outside such an event and you shouldn't hope for too much.
Well, the knitters, as they often do, exceeded the expectations of the experts and now they are asking Stephanie how they can get everyone else to be like that. (Her answer, it's going to take a lot of yarn.)
Stephanie talked of knitting and it's wonders, wool and it's wonders. She gave suggestions for handling folks who glimpse your stash and don't immediately say - Wow, is that hand-painted merino?. One bold one included petting it and saying, "These are my kittens!" I may never use it, but I love having it in the arsenal.
When Stephanie wrapped up, they moved folks upstairs in blocks. There was knitter chat as we waited. I showed off my Harmony Options needles and worked on something that may go to a swap partner.
It was great being with people who - even if they didn't have their own knitting - thought it perfectly normal that I did. Even understood why my bag held a second project. There was a woman who knit a whole scarf on 35's while we were there, and then felt bereft for the remainder of her wait.
I saw Stephanie speak to a young lady and tell her that once she could write her own name and read, she would be ready to start knitting. (The young lady is halfway there.)
And the line moved forward and it was my turn. And Stephanie graciously smiled and signed my book and asked about my knitting. And I turned into a teenager. You know, I was polite, I smiled, I answered her question, but I didn't engage. (All due respect to teens, I know you have fabulous moments, but you do know that sometimes you clam up.) So, Stephanie, hopefully the rest of the folks in line were a bit more engaging. And the irony of the fact that I talked to strangers all night long and then apparently lost the art of conversation when speaking to the person I had come to see, is not lost on me.
I had a grand old time. I got the hang with knitters, see the Yarn Harlot, and get my book signed.
*Yes, we folks in this area find it funny to talk about crossing borders like it requires a passport. It is for most of us in jest.
Despite internet chatter suggesting people had taken whole days off to stake out the Borders in question, I went renegade and left work at approximately my normal time and headed there.
I walked in and the first thing I saw was a staffer at a table with Harlot gear. He handed me my post it and my number (97). I told him I had been to Nora signings and author conventions, 97 was fine.
I then tried to find the craft section (accosting a lovely lady looking for the restroom since she had a gorgeous knitting bag, so I thought she might have scoped it out) to try and find the newly released Crazy Aunt Purl book.
I found the section, but not the book. I found other knitters. I spread the word of Knitting Daily and the Modern Quilt Wrap that has seduced me.
I found a staffer to ask about the book, and after taking me to the section I had just been to, she looked it up and told me that their computer was telling me that it was not available until October. I apologize to the young staffer for arguing (although politely with her). My frustration came from the fact that while I knew the original release date was October, I also knew the book had been released early and had in fact confirmed that morning on the Borders website that the book was in stock at that very store. Sadly, the computer that still said 10/15 won the day. Especially since, with a house-full of book reading knitters, an opportunity was lost.
It was great being in a room with so many knitters. Looking around, peaking at what people were working on and wearing. I confess, I got very few names, and remember even less of them (sorry). But there were lovely people everywhere. I sat between someone who had only recently began yarning again when her daughter asked her to teach her crochet and another woman who just started knitting a few weeks ago and was working on her very first project: a pink garter stitch scarf. (I told her that was my first project and my first UFO.)
There were men, there were babies, there were folks of all ages. I saw someone with a finished Mystery Stole (I really need to get going on mine). There were sweaters and socks and gloves and scarves and, of course, hats.
The Cafe was a little unprepared for hungry knitters, but worked valiantly. There were many, many chairs.
And then Stephanie came.
I will not even pretend I can do justice to the ninety minutes or so that she spoke. But there were lists. There was talk of knitter prejudice. There was talk of how when she tried Knitters Without Borders this past fall she was told by experts that she was setting herself up for failure because fundraising is one thing when there is a disaster but it is very difficult outside such an event and you shouldn't hope for too much.
Well, the knitters, as they often do, exceeded the expectations of the experts and now they are asking Stephanie how they can get everyone else to be like that. (Her answer, it's going to take a lot of yarn.)
Stephanie talked of knitting and it's wonders, wool and it's wonders. She gave suggestions for handling folks who glimpse your stash and don't immediately say - Wow, is that hand-painted merino?. One bold one included petting it and saying, "These are my kittens!" I may never use it, but I love having it in the arsenal.
When Stephanie wrapped up, they moved folks upstairs in blocks. There was knitter chat as we waited. I showed off my Harmony Options needles and worked on something that may go to a swap partner.
It was great being with people who - even if they didn't have their own knitting - thought it perfectly normal that I did. Even understood why my bag held a second project. There was a woman who knit a whole scarf on 35's while we were there, and then felt bereft for the remainder of her wait.
I saw Stephanie speak to a young lady and tell her that once she could write her own name and read, she would be ready to start knitting. (The young lady is halfway there.)
And the line moved forward and it was my turn. And Stephanie graciously smiled and signed my book and asked about my knitting. And I turned into a teenager. You know, I was polite, I smiled, I answered her question, but I didn't engage. (All due respect to teens, I know you have fabulous moments, but you do know that sometimes you clam up.) So, Stephanie, hopefully the rest of the folks in line were a bit more engaging. And the irony of the fact that I talked to strangers all night long and then apparently lost the art of conversation when speaking to the person I had come to see, is not lost on me.
I had a grand old time. I got the hang with knitters, see the Yarn Harlot, and get my book signed.
*Yes, we folks in this area find it funny to talk about crossing borders like it requires a passport. It is for most of us in jest.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)