Also, I could've lived a long time without knowing about sports thongs.
So, in case y'all wondered? Dick's Sporting Goods has a completely truthful name. They do sell sporting goods, and they are certainly dicks. I was there for an hour this afternoon, attempting to buy cleats, shinguards, and socks for my upcoming intramural soccer career. In that whole time, only one employee spoke to me, and that encounter went like this:
ME: Um, could you tell me the difference between these shinguards?
HIM: Well, that one's three dollars cheaper.
He walks away.
ME: Thanks a lot, moron.
Correct answer: one had ankle guards, the other didn't. I also had to figure out the sizing of them by myself, ask another customer how tightly cleats were supposed to fit, and buy men's shoes, because the women's ones they had were all various shades of pastel. I couldn't have tried those on anyway, since there were no employees around to get them from the stockroom for me. I could have walked out of the store with those shoes and no one would have noticed. I don't remember the last time I felt so invisible.
And the really crappy thing -- this time, I needed help. In a bookstore, I don't need assistance, really; I know what book I want, or I want to browse alone. But this was the first time I've ever bought cleats. I could have used someone to help me figure out the differences and what I needed. I could have been talked into more expensive shoes. I was a willing customer, ready to be educated and spend my money in their store.
This afternoon, I did spend money there. But I was so frustrated by it all that I came home and found everything I just bought online. Sometimes even cheaper. Tomorrow after classes, I'm going back and getting a refund. My money's as good as anyone else's, and they completely ignored me. Congratulations, dicks -- you lost yourselves a customer, and I'm telling your manager exactly why.
ME: Um, could you tell me the difference between these shinguards?
HIM: Well, that one's three dollars cheaper.
He walks away.
ME: Thanks a lot, moron.
Correct answer: one had ankle guards, the other didn't. I also had to figure out the sizing of them by myself, ask another customer how tightly cleats were supposed to fit, and buy men's shoes, because the women's ones they had were all various shades of pastel. I couldn't have tried those on anyway, since there were no employees around to get them from the stockroom for me. I could have walked out of the store with those shoes and no one would have noticed. I don't remember the last time I felt so invisible.
And the really crappy thing -- this time, I needed help. In a bookstore, I don't need assistance, really; I know what book I want, or I want to browse alone. But this was the first time I've ever bought cleats. I could have used someone to help me figure out the differences and what I needed. I could have been talked into more expensive shoes. I was a willing customer, ready to be educated and spend my money in their store.
This afternoon, I did spend money there. But I was so frustrated by it all that I came home and found everything I just bought online. Sometimes even cheaper. Tomorrow after classes, I'm going back and getting a refund. My money's as good as anyone else's, and they completely ignored me. Congratulations, dicks -- you lost yourselves a customer, and I'm telling your manager exactly why.