Whiny, reluctant teen voice : “Well, I guess I should express some rage now. “
So yesterday, I ordered a bunch of stuff from the Ironwood Sav-On. Stuff that has that precious vitamin B12 in it.
And I knew there would be fuckery because the website has been redesigned. Uh oh.
That’s a rather touchy subject with me because Facebook’s last redesign made it so that I can’t see Notifications, can’t add a comment to stuff I post on my timeline, and can’t caption photos I upload.
Do you any idea how much it pisses me off to have my self-expression curtailed?
The first bit of fuckery : I got my order all together, went to check out, and only then realized I had somehow selected “pickup” instead of “delivery”.
Well that would have been pretty fucking useless. Thank Dog I caught it.
And whaddaya know, there is literally no way to change that at this point in the process so I have to start a brand new order and do all that shopping AGAIN.
The next number in our cavalcade of incompetence is the phone call from the store telling me my pickup order will be delayed.
My what now? I am positive I never finished that earlier order. Oh well, at least that gave me a chance to cancel it. at least.
Then comes the delivery, and the dude calls me to tell me he will be there soon (they always do that) and happens to mentioned that there have been some…substitutions.
(SFX : Dramatic sting, spooky thunderbolt)
And I am like….
The driver tells me they substituted regular Orange Crush for my Diet Orange Crush (clearly totally unacceptable)….
And had substituted regular Scotch mints for my sugar free kind.
This, despite the fact that in the “note to personal shopper” section of the order I wrote “Diabetic. Do not substitute sugary items for sugar free items. ”
I mean, what else could I do? They got rid of the “no substitutions” button in the redesign. That message was my only defense.
But again, at least I learned this before I got my order. Told the driver to cancel my order for those two things. Apparently my “personal shopper” ignored my “personal preferences”, aka medical necessities.
So my order showed up minus two things I was especially looking forward to, especially the sugar free Scotch mints.
I haven’t had my beloved Scotch mints in so long. I was so happy to find ones I could have without them killing me.
Oh, and just now, I am looking at computer monitors on Amazon.ca, and apparently there is no such thing as a normal computer monitor any more.
All they have is these “portable” monitors, all of which are SMALLER than my current monitor. Son of a bitch.
I don’t want portable! I want enormous and high res!
Maybe I should just buy a TV instead.
More after the break.
Here we go again
What the fuck did I do to piss off the universe?
I order pizza from Pizza Hut. Big pizza (14″ Meat Lovers), little pizza (12″ Chicken Caesar…I can never resist the whole medium pizza for $5 deal), two 2L bottle of Diet Pepsi, nice and simple.
Pizza delivered. Big pizza, check. Little pizza, double check. And two 2L of… REGULAR PEPSI? What the FUCK, world?
Thus begins the saga of trying to figure out how to complain. I go all over the website looking for a “contact us” button or similar. Nuttin’.
Finally. I somehow persuade it to show me the stuff it usually shows at the bottom of the website and find the Contact Us button.
That leads me to a weirdly long form for feedback (I’ll give you some fucking feedback) which actually had the gall to ask me for my province and city TWICE (just ask the top half of the form, ya snaggle toothed cunt) so I filled the cocksucker out with my complaint and submitted it.
Jesus Herbert Christ, I’m so mad I’m going Islander.
But the online form wasn’t very satisfying. So I decide to call instead.
So I look up the number for my store, which is two blocks from here, and dial it. It rings and rings and rings and rings and then bumps me to the hotline.
I wait through some truly antique on-hold music (remember Muzak?) with the occasional voiceover that makes me feel like I am in a department store in the late Seventies (in a bad way) and then I get a nice lady on the phone who listens to my complaint then tells me she is going to transfer me to my local Pizza Hut.
Which is where I fucking started!
And what’s worse, the transfer won’t go through. Should have taken like two seconds but five minutes later and I am still listening to a warm female voice of the type used in science fiction mind control machines telling me how awesome Pizza Slut’s five different kinds of crust are.
That’s when I went “duh”, hung up, and hit redial.
This time someone answered! A guy said “Thank you for choosing Pizza Hut” and I started to relate my complaint but then it clicked into some mode where I was hearing my own voice come back to me, on a roughly 1.5 second delay.
Which is highly unnerving.
I hang up and redial – no answer. Nothing.
Because apparently, right after sending me into Solipsism Mode, the entire place returned to its home fucking dimension.
I mean, someone was there. Someone answered the phone. But then remembered that phones steal your soul, apparently.
I have redialed a half dozen times in the last hour – still nothing.
I guess our planets were only briefly aligned.
This whole day has left me feeling burly and defensive.
Like I want to go chest to chest with my gremlins and say, “Ya wanna go’er? Eh?”
Fuck this fucking fuckery.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.