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Spotlight: Anam Shah

31 Jul

July 31, 2012

Spotlight Week 2012 continues with Anam Shah. Anam writes the blog My perception and then yours, which you can find in the sidebar or just click the image below. Take a second, it is worth a look around. Among the things you’ll find there are some intriguing literary analysis and also some interesting personal insights. She has a very interesting point-of-view and sharp insights into the world. I hope you find her as engrossing as I do.

Anam has done something a little different for Spotlight Week. She’s homed in on one of her recent experiences and described for us one of life’s too-common annoyances.

Rite Aid should be called Band Aid

It’s laughable how easy it is to find a job in the sales industry and yet the lack of actual customer service is so daunting. I don’t know about you guys but I pride true customer service. I was part of that industry and I had always exhibited the best.  To find it and be shocked into speechlessness is how often I come across it. Besides the fact that the title rhymes; the horrific experiences that I’ve had at this Pharmacy chain is beyond belief. Now one “W” is very prominent. “Why do you go there?” I will answer that question in due time. So don’t slip in your puddle with your lack of patience or pee in your pants.

     It all started in the month of April and yet the confrontation is still fresh in my mind. It was unwarranted the harassment I faced just to buy bottles of shampoo and boxes of soda. Instead of being heralded as a great customer, loyal to the extreme that spent over 100 dollars at this store; I was treated worse than a shoplifter.

     The sale was to buy three boxes of soda of 12 oz cans for 11 dollars, which was a great deal, but the real reason I was there was to buy overpriced shampoo bottles that were on sale. Rite Aid was the only pharmacy that I found to have John Frieda on sale for “Buy one and Get one for 50% off” with a 5 dollar cash back option if you bought shampoo for more than fifteen dollars.

     Then the notch count against the common people began. First the soda cans that were on their shelves were expired. Then there was only one person on the floor who had a clue about the sale. Next, their sale stickers were all old and no one had bothered to put the new ones up. Then I went up to the counter and found out that the cashier had no clue which soda brands were on sale. He was asking me, the customer, if I knew. Worse, he went ahead and charged me for the soda that I didn’t want even though I repeated a zillion times that I didn’t want the product. Annoyed, I was a bit short with the guy and I told him this is his job to know the current prices in the store not mine.

     After the horrendous trial of just paying, I was catching up with my ex-roommate that I had happened to bump into while at Rite Aid. She had worked on Wall Street and had recently been laid off. We mentioned our various occupations, the economic downturn and lack of jobs. During this time the incompetent staff was privy to our conversation and I didn’t know that it would escalate into a situation where I would personally be under attack. I was about to leave the store and I mentioned to the security guard that I would need to take the shopping cart to my car since I had so many purchases that would make it hard for me to carry. He grunted and said as long as I bought the cart back to the store it was fine. I said farewell to my roomie and went to the car. When I turned back and wheeled the cart back into the store I found the guard outside and the first thing he said “You gave the cashier a very rough time.” I frowned in confusion and responded “Well he didn’t know what he was doing.” He agreed but then he prolonged the conversation and he tried to turn the tables and said “You should have been nice to him.”  Incredulous I was like “I am just returning the cart, unless you are the manager of this store why are we having this conversation?”  Then the personal attacks began; I was bitter ……. I had problems… Did I even have a man………he was just talking to me. Who cares if I just spent an easy 50 dollars on one transaction?  At this point I had enough. I gave him a really good backlash which included losing my temper and giving him a good dose of the true Brooklyn language. The manager was not there and the guard’s name tag was turned around. Very sarcastically I said “So that is why you make sure your name is so inconspicuous.” I laughed in his face and I said “You are a waste of my time. I will be making a few phone calls and filing an online complaint with Rite Aid.” During this time a crowd had gathered and one customer actually came and asked me what the whole scene was about. My response was I should have called the cops and pressed charges for such harassment of the verbal kind. Plus I should have just left the cart in the parking lot instead of being courteous and returning it to the store.

               I got home and filed an online complaint. The next business day, I called the company using their 1-800 number open to the public. That very afternoon I got phone calls from a 718 number. No voicemail, just hang-ups. This made me raise my eyebrows. Finally, I found that it was the Regional Manager of Rite Aid. Why didn’t he leave a voice message which would be the norm? He apologized for my experience. During this time I was not allowed to talk and mention my grievances. He blamed the easy target: the cashier. My complaint was with the security guard. Then he mentioned policies and procedures like I was a two year-old. Like come on, even if you worked at McDonald’s there are policies and procedures to follow. There was no talk of reprimanding the security guard.  The apology: a band aid. Useless when wet and came off easily.

            The next time I went to that Rite Aid………………… the cashier wasn’t present but I did see the security guard. Oh and by the way he was telling another female customer ahead of me, quite candidly, how stupid he thought she was. She responded with a smile. Did they know one another? I don’t know. Was it professional? No. As a customer I believe once you’re on the job your personal life should be out the door. He saw me looking at him and I believe he refrained from using perverse words of another nature.  I was highly irked with these new tidings and the outcome of my complaint which had been so easily disregarded. I sent the Regional Manager an email. It said the following:

Dear Richard:

Not that long ago I went to that location again. I was horrified to see that you still have that atrocious security guard working there. I see that the customers opinions are considered null and insignificant. His inappropriate remarks are generously rewarded. Considering that factor I was not surprised to overhear another inappropriate remark with his then present conversation with another customer.

I used to work for a Rite Aid as a teenager, but if  he had did what he verbally did with me at my current firm which  I work for, he would have been terminated for his lack of professionalism. I am surprised that you keep on such employees when he is from a third-party and probably a dime a dozen.

I will take my business elsewhere and trust me when I say that word of mouth is very powerful. I was willing to consider the Rite Aid employees being written up or given a verbal warning because I understand that procedures differ at each company. For you to keep on a security guard that intimidates customers is horrible. Your lucky that nobody has called 911 for his harassing behavior.

Since I am an Accountant and well versed in the business world I will tell you this. I will make sure everybody that I know in the immediate vicinity will not go to that Rite Aid or any other. I will even post my bad customer service experiences on my blog. I hope you will enjoy that since I can see how much you care about customer service. I will take all my prescriptions and my family members to CVS. I will also promote CVS and tell everybody I know or even briefly acquainted with why I don’t go to Rite Aid. Competition is lovely thing isn’t it? Especially in the private sector.

I hope this has given you food for thought. I am disgusted that I have to mention my background for you to take me seriously.

Regards,

Anam Shah ……

The Regional Mangers response to my concerns about a security guard that harassed female customers?  There was none. Great Customer service! My only regret, I should have called the cops and filed a complaint against that bloke of a security guard when I had the chance!

My Memories of Little Red Riding Hood

19 Jul

July 19, 2012

Once upon a time there was a little girl. Amazing, right? Like who would think that in all of history there was ever a little girl and believe it or not, she lived in the woods. Nobody ever lived in a rundown apartment over a liquor shop back then.  Seriously, a little girl who lives in the woods in a fairy tale is like leaves on a tree. Big deal. I can look out my window and see leaf after leaf. I can probably also look out my window and see little girl after little girl but I won’t. A man my age who looks out his window at little girls is a sure bet to wind up on the sex offender registry.

Anyway, this particular little girl was named Little Red Riding Hood. That may be hard to believe but there was actually a time long ago when it was common to name people after items of clothing. Her mother was named Plaid Socks and her father was named Old Denim Overalls. She also had a cousin named Pants with Stinky Brown Stain on Rear.

Little Red Riding Hood, whose last name was Schwartz, lived in the woods. This is not the same woods as the one in Snow White or Pinocchio, though they were all run by the same management company. In fact there were about 30 different woods and in each the ogres were threatening to go on strike. Little Red was a cute and sweet young girl. In fact she was too cute and sweet. She was so sweet you couldn’t stand her. Little Red was like one of those cute kids in a Stephen King novel whom you couldn’t stand but you’d keep reading because you knew she’d get killed in some horrible way, like the baby in Pet Semetary. But not only was Little Red cute and sweet, she was also kind and generous and good-hearted. Everyone hated her. Even Mother Theresa once slapped her.

Here is a typical page from her daily planner:

-wake up
-milk the cows
-massage the cows
-dress the cows in pretty dresses

And that’s just before 8am.

On this particular day Red took some time out of her busy schedule to bring a basket of food to her sick grandmother. Grandma lived even deeper in the woods, all alone. Great idea for a frail old woman, right? Anyway, she was sick so Red decided to bring her enough food to last a week. I would have brought her a Medic Alert bracelet and some aspirin too.

The woods were full of wolves. Big, hungry, ravenous, sexually repressed wolves. What? Didn’t think I’d go there? Fairy tales are full of hidden sexual imagery.  Think Rumplestiltskin wasn’t freaky like Chris Brown? Yeah, some wolf beat up Rihanna too.

So there was Little Red Riding Hood, skipping along through the woods singing along to Gotye when just when she got to “But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough” (yes that song is that old. Gotye stole it from a German folk tale) a wolf leaped out of the trees and demanded “open the door and let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” Clearly he was in the wrong place. Seeing his mistake he politely apologized and left.

No sooner had he left than another wolf leapt out and demanded the picnic basket. Back then wolves would wait in line for a shot at a picnic basket. He snarled. He showed his fangs. He waved his claws. His fur bristled, his teeth glistened, even his busy tail was somehow menacing.

Little Red Riding Hood smiled and, being so sweet and obnoxiously good-natured, gave him the basket, kissed the wolf on the snout, and turned around and skipped back home, singing Lady Gaga all the way. And poor granny? She was still starving.

Later, the wolf took the basket back home to his den. Lair? Nest? Where do wolves live anyway? The point is, he ripped open the basket and found it full of nothing but Ensure, Metamucil, and more adult diapers than you would expect. After all, Granny wasn’t about to digest a T-bone steak at her age. This did nothing to slake the wolf’s appetite. He trashed the basket but he kept the diapers. The wolf was getting on in years, you know.

The next day the wolf decided to get even with Red. He’d guzzled a week’s worth of Granny’s Ensure and went into body failure. He showed up on Grandma’s doorstep and rang the bell. He claimed to be selling subscriptions to Vibe magazine. Granny wasn’t interested and didn’t open the door. The wolf decided that being sneaky was getting him nowhere so he jumped through the window and ate her. Honestly, he’s a wolf. Why didn’t he do that to begin with?

After completing various good deeds, like washing a leper’s feet and knitting scarves for bald sheep, Little Red Riding Hood Schwartz once again brought a basket to Grandma’s house. She knocked on the door and a strange, high-pitched growl that would fool absolutely no one but this silly kid said “come on in, the door is open.” 

She went in and there, in the inky shadows, was what looked like a wolf in Granny’s bed. See? I told you fairy tales were full of sexual imagery. Let me lay this out for you: The wolf was trying to lure the girl into bed. There’s a reason why men who hit on every woman in sight are called wolves.

Meanwhile, how dumb is Red? Be realistic, would you be fooled if you saw a dog in bed instead of a human being? Of course not. Even if your dog could talk and looked cute in a sweater you’d knit her, you’d still recognize that it’s a dog. So what was Little Red Riding Hood’s problem? Sheesh. I think she needed glasses. You know what comes next.

“My Grandma, what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear you my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“The better to see you, my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
“Oh screw this shit!” And the wolf leaped out of the bed and tore Little Red Riding Hood to pieces.

A passing lumberjack heard Little Red Riding Hood’s screams and came to rescue her. Guess what? The wolf ate him too.

The moral of the story? A wolf will eat you. Avoid wolves.

———————–

Can you stand more?

Read My Memories of Cinderella here.

Read My Memories of Snow White here.

Read My Memories of The Boy Who Cried Wolf here.

Read My Memories of Pinocchio here