A Valentine's Tale of Righteous Fury
Allow me to share post-Valentine's Day a saga of wrath and vindictive glory. As February 14th was approaching, I began to feel the pressure associated with the holiday. For the second time in two and a half years, I am separated from Djinn on Valentine's Day, which isn't really as hard a thing to cope with as being apart at Christmas, birthdays, or our anniversary (which we have so far always managed to be together during).
However, Djinn hasn't been feeling well, and I thought I would send him a gift to lift his spirits. Something small, something furry and inanimate. For about a week, I try to think of what to send him, and on February 13th, I realized that I could no longer procrastinate.
So I go online, and immediately think of 1-800-FLOWERS. I go to the website, and I search out something plush that also has chocolate involved, and I find Sad Sam, an adorable puppy dog with droopy ears and eyes, in a little tuxedo with fake flowers behind his back and a box of chocolates at his side. Not too girly on V-day, and not too flashy, and entirely appropriate in my mind when apart from your significant other on such a hyped up holiday filled with social pressure to be in love and to express that love monetarily.
I order Sad Sam with next day delivery, ask that it be sent to Djinn's office at work, and fill out the appropriate information. Yes, I'll pay the $15.00 delivery fee. I reach a screen telling me that what with the holiday and all, I'll have to accept "flexible delivery" and I should choose an alternate date below. My options for delivery are: February 14th. Convenient enough, as that's when I wanted it delivered anyways.
Click submit, make payment, check out, and sit back, satisfied that my gift will reach Djinn at work and bring a smile to his face.
Valentine's Day: The day arrives, Djinn gets to work, and goes through his day. I call him at lunch to see if he's gotten his gift. Not yet. He tells me what others in the office have received. We wait. He knows he's getting something at work, but he doesn't know what. The work day ends, and still no gift. I start to worry.
I e-mail the company (let's not forget who it was--1-800-FLOWERS) to ask about my order. Moments later, a reply, an automated answer stating that they received my e-mail and I'll be hearing from them soon.
Next day: Djinn goes to work, the day passes. No gift. No Sad Sam. At this point, I have sent Djinn a link to the picture of what he should be getting, since it's late and he should at least see it.
Next day: Djinn goes to work, checks for packages, nothing. I receive an e-mail (on February 16th, mind you) that is a delivery confirmation that my order was delivered on February 14th. Enter the RIGHTEOUS FURY. I fire off a reply e-mail that contains the following phrases:
Later that same day, after lunch, Djinn does indeed receive his gift. However, instead of Sad Sam the puppy dog, he gets Tucker the teddy bear. Still fluffy, still cute, but in no damn way is it what I paid for him to receive.
I attempt to call the company. On the other line, an automated voice: Thank you for calling 1-800-FLOWERS. If you would like to place an order, press 1. If you would like to....blah blah If you would like to speak to a customer service representative about an order, please press 4. If you have a corporate account, and would like to speak to a customer service representative about a corporate order, please press 5.
I press 4.
I wait. I listen to a static-filled recording that repeats every 15 seconds or so and tells me that I can check the status of an order online by registering, and that my call is important. I wait. I wait. I make dinner. I wait.
I hang up.
Redial.
Press 5 for a corporate account. I have just enough time to listen to the opening strains of hold music with no static before the call is transferred again automatically and I am speaking to a live human being. I was beginning to think those didn't exist at 1-800-FLOWERS. Apparently they only exist for the corporate customer. Just call us Genie & Djinn, Inc.
After explaining the situation, and the blatant lie in the delivery confirmation e-mail, I say very simply, "I would like to know how we can resolve this matter." My options are to either return the gift for a "100 % credit" (chocolates intact and all) or I can keep the gift and get a "50 % credit." My final question before choosing door number two is whether the "credit" is to my "credit" card, or to 1-800-FLOWERS the company, because HELL WILL FREEZE OVER before I order from them again. The money has been promptly credited to my credit card.
The moral of the story: Had someone immediately responded to my initial e-mail, or had the delivery confirmation not contained an out and out lie, I wouldn't have been nearly as pissed off as I became. As it was, I patiently wait for the fires of hell to cool in order to have my next business transaction with this company (which is, for the record, 1-800-FLOWERS, in case you forgot).
However, Djinn hasn't been feeling well, and I thought I would send him a gift to lift his spirits. Something small, something furry and inanimate. For about a week, I try to think of what to send him, and on February 13th, I realized that I could no longer procrastinate.
So I go online, and immediately think of 1-800-FLOWERS. I go to the website, and I search out something plush that also has chocolate involved, and I find Sad Sam, an adorable puppy dog with droopy ears and eyes, in a little tuxedo with fake flowers behind his back and a box of chocolates at his side. Not too girly on V-day, and not too flashy, and entirely appropriate in my mind when apart from your significant other on such a hyped up holiday filled with social pressure to be in love and to express that love monetarily.
I order Sad Sam with next day delivery, ask that it be sent to Djinn's office at work, and fill out the appropriate information. Yes, I'll pay the $15.00 delivery fee. I reach a screen telling me that what with the holiday and all, I'll have to accept "flexible delivery" and I should choose an alternate date below. My options for delivery are: February 14th. Convenient enough, as that's when I wanted it delivered anyways.
Click submit, make payment, check out, and sit back, satisfied that my gift will reach Djinn at work and bring a smile to his face.
Valentine's Day: The day arrives, Djinn gets to work, and goes through his day. I call him at lunch to see if he's gotten his gift. Not yet. He tells me what others in the office have received. We wait. He knows he's getting something at work, but he doesn't know what. The work day ends, and still no gift. I start to worry.
I e-mail the company (let's not forget who it was--1-800-FLOWERS) to ask about my order. Moments later, a reply, an automated answer stating that they received my e-mail and I'll be hearing from them soon.
Next day: Djinn goes to work, the day passes. No gift. No Sad Sam. At this point, I have sent Djinn a link to the picture of what he should be getting, since it's late and he should at least see it.
Next day: Djinn goes to work, checks for packages, nothing. I receive an e-mail (on February 16th, mind you) that is a delivery confirmation that my order was delivered on February 14th. Enter the RIGHTEOUS FURY. I fire off a reply e-mail that contains the following phrases:
"Perhaps this is an automated e-mail generated by your system, but if my order was delivered on that date, it was delivered to the wrong place and I would really like to know why I paid to potentially have a random stranger receive my order. I am not that charitable. Please respond immediately to resolve this matter."The response? An automated reply, informing me that my e-mail is important to them (just the like the last one, huh?) and that I should be hearing from them soon. I also submit another e-mail via an online form on their website, and receive the same answer--an automated reply.
Later that same day, after lunch, Djinn does indeed receive his gift. However, instead of Sad Sam the puppy dog, he gets Tucker the teddy bear. Still fluffy, still cute, but in no damn way is it what I paid for him to receive.
I attempt to call the company. On the other line, an automated voice: Thank you for calling 1-800-FLOWERS. If you would like to place an order, press 1. If you would like to....blah blah If you would like to speak to a customer service representative about an order, please press 4. If you have a corporate account, and would like to speak to a customer service representative about a corporate order, please press 5.
I press 4.
I wait. I listen to a static-filled recording that repeats every 15 seconds or so and tells me that I can check the status of an order online by registering, and that my call is important. I wait. I wait. I make dinner. I wait.
I hang up.
Redial.
Press 5 for a corporate account. I have just enough time to listen to the opening strains of hold music with no static before the call is transferred again automatically and I am speaking to a live human being. I was beginning to think those didn't exist at 1-800-FLOWERS. Apparently they only exist for the corporate customer. Just call us Genie & Djinn, Inc.
After explaining the situation, and the blatant lie in the delivery confirmation e-mail, I say very simply, "I would like to know how we can resolve this matter." My options are to either return the gift for a "100 % credit" (chocolates intact and all) or I can keep the gift and get a "50 % credit." My final question before choosing door number two is whether the "credit" is to my "credit" card, or to 1-800-FLOWERS the company, because HELL WILL FREEZE OVER before I order from them again. The money has been promptly credited to my credit card.
The moral of the story: Had someone immediately responded to my initial e-mail, or had the delivery confirmation not contained an out and out lie, I wouldn't have been nearly as pissed off as I became. As it was, I patiently wait for the fires of hell to cool in order to have my next business transaction with this company (which is, for the record, 1-800-FLOWERS, in case you forgot).
<< Home