My feet deserve better...Keds shouldn't make you bleed!

Part three in the saga of my summer of shitty customer service. I'm actually starting to believe that there's some conspiracy to keep me in a constant state of pissed off. As though I'm the enemy of all things retail. Guess what, fuckwads? I keep your asses in business. I spend money hand over fist when I like a product. Old Navy and Starbucks know this first-hand. When a company has great quality products, friendly sales staff, and a fair return policy...I will choose them above all the others. But fuck me over, and all bets are off. Boycotting a product or an entire line of products has been something I feel very comfortable doing. Not only boycotting, but making damn sure that everyone within earshot...and now with modern technology, everyone with semi-working eyeballs...knows how God-awful they are and why they shouldn't buy from that particular company. Yeah, I'm quite a bitch when burned.

Keds used to be my go to kicking around sneaker. Yes, sneaker, because I'm from the Right Coast and we don't refer to every pair of athletic shoe as a tennis shoe. They aren't all for TENNIS! Anyway, getting back on track. I loved Keds, I loved wearing them, shopping for them, having them in my closet. So comfortable and cute. I wore them with everything. They came in a variety of colors, which I did enjoy, but I always favored the white ones. They were lightweight, easy to pack for a trip. Perfect to wear while sightseeing. Hell, even when I was pregnant with my daughter and my feet ballooned up to giant, puffy blobs of bloated skin that supported the massive load that was my body...I bought a new pair of leather Keds and walked on what felt like clouds. Yeah, they were my favorite shoes.

Until now. During a recent Costco trip, I discovered they were selling ProKeds in a few cute colors and it excited me. I haven't bought those in years and I missed them. I walked back and forth in front of the display, wondering if I should dare. Should I, should I? I grabbed the navy pair in my size and threw them into the cart and decided to continue shopping while I made my decision. At only $19.99, they were a steal. Plus, I could have my cute and comfy Keds again. Why I stopped buying them, I really don't know. Maybe it was the move to the Left Coast and the newfound love for flip flops. Who knows, really. But opportunity threw itself at my feet and I was going to jump on it. I stopped to try them on. Just like I remembered. Fuck, they were so damn cute! I considered grabbing another color or two, but stopped myself.

Little did I know that by stopping myself from indulging in several colors, I'd be saving my feet from horrific damage and pain. So excited to wear them, I planned my next work outfit around the little beauties. Little, now that's a joke for those who know me. My feet are anything BUT little. But I digress. I wore them to work with the hopes that I'd finally have a day where I didn't come home with sore feet. What a lovely surprise when I could barely stand on them 3 hours into the day. I had nothing to change into, so I plodded on, in severe pain and agony. By the time I got home, I couldn't peel the rotten fuckers off fast enough. In six hours they went from my adorable little shoes to evil cockknockers. OH MY GOD! What happened to my toes? They shouldn't be that color. Or that huge. Barely able to step down on the carpet, I flung myself on to a chair and put my poor, pummeled feet up.

Determined to make it work, I stuffed the Keds to within an inch of their capacity and waited a week to wear them again. My toes were still sore by the time I was ready to un-stuff the shoes and attempt to wear them. But I loved them and wanted to be able to sport them all the time...just like I used to years ago. I put them on and set off to work, thinking that the painful feeling was just my sore toes and that if I wore the Keds all day, they'd make me feel better. I was so fucking wrong...and I'm never wrong, so it hurt on more than one level. This time the pain was so excruciating, I had to take them off in the car on the way home. I couldn't last another minute. When I got home I found out why. My pinkie toes were bruised and bleeding. What the fuck?!?! Wearing a pair of pointy stilettos does this shit, not a pair of goddamn Keds!

With teary eyes, I knew what had to be done. I wrote to Keds customer service and informed them of my experience. I wasn't mean, I was actually quite nice as I informed them about how much I loved their products...until now. I was hoping they would send me a half size larger because I stupidly thought that was the reason for my plight. They responded after a few days, which already put them on my shit list. This is the only job of customer service...to be in contact with the customers. It shouldn't take that long to compose an email.

Why I'll Never Buy Another Lexus...

Back in 2009, when our Ford Escape was costing more in repairs than it was worth, we began our search for a replacement vehicle. After a serious amount of research on my husband's part, because he likes that shit, and dealership visits complete with test drives, we decided that we wanted a Lexus. Yeah, I know, it sounds pretentious and snooty, but fuck you, that's what we wanted. A certified pre-owned Lexus RX350. A crossover SUV that drove like a luxury car, oh baby, that's what Mommy like. The dealer even let us take the car overnight! Holy fucking shit, who does that? Lexus, that's who. The fine folks at the very posh and customer service-oriented Lexus of Concord. Talk about sealing the deal. They knew exactly what they were doing, conniving, manipulative, snake oil sales motherfucks.

After having spent the entire day and early evening at the dealership haggling over the price and things we wanted thrown in, because at those prices, we were entitled to some-fucking-thing. Moving forward, we were thrown to the lions covered in pig's blood. Oh, I mean, we were sent into the finance asswad's office to finalize the contract and be talked into paying for every possible extra under the sun. Who wants paint chip coverage with extra gloss and shine? Me, me, me me!!! Unnecessary roadside assistance because you have AAA but it's so much fancier to say you have Lexus Roadside Assistance? Oh God, yes! I'll take it, where do I sign? Platinum Certified Extended Warranty on top of the warranty still on the fucking car that we could cancel at any time we figure out it was actually a gigantic waste of money? Damn right, I want it! Hand me that pen, you greasy thief! Signing every piece of paper that bastard slid across the table, we were exhausted but happy new owners of a 2007 Lexus RX350.

I'd be lying if I said we didn't enjoy every minute of driving that car. We cruised around, felt fancy, and spent a fortune on premium gas to fill that fuel whore every 5 or so days. Oh yeah, life was good. When we took the car in for service, we were treated like royalty. Bagels, donuts, coffee, tea, water, and a loaner car that was always newer and nicer than our current car. No shit, I know that part was to get us to trade up, but I loved every minute of borrowing from their fleet of lovely ladies. It was a smooth-riding, luxurious experience every time I planted my ass in the driver's seat of that baby, and I loved it. I loved it, my husband loved it, and when she got her learner's permit, my daughter loved it, too. In fact, she loved it so much, she lobbied to have us allow her to use it for school transportation after she got her license.

After a few years of driving pleasure, we made the decision to trade our baby in for two lower-priced cars to afford us the ability to give our daughter a car to take to college. Negotiating what we thought was a fair price for the Lexus, chewing the Volkswagen guy down as far as possible, we were now the proud owners of a silver Jetta (the kid's car) and a red convertible Beetle (my mid-life mobile). Remembering we had that Platinum warranty to cancel and collect over two thou, we began the process of calling their customer service department to get the ball rolling. More cash is always a bonus, don't deny it. We are all money-hungry to some degree, and anyone who denies it is a lying prick bastard.

To say that phone call was an eye-opener would be selling it short. I was told in no uncertain terms that the refund would be pro-rated and that is the policy and how did I not know that? Uh, your finance cock-sucker told me so? That was the recourse I had...the finance guy told me, therefore it is so. As far as I was concerned, Lexus made me a promise, and Lexus was going to keep that promise. The woman on the phone suggested I call the dealer and work it out with them, that perhaps they could make good on it. Having an undue feeling of confidence that Lexus would, indeed, make good on their promise because, after all, they ARE Lexus and by the very nature of that, trustworthy, I made that phone call. I dialed that number and truly believed that they would help me, that they would be as kind as they had been the entire time I owned one of their vehicles.

Was I wrong! I was referred to Patrick, the sales manager, who was supposed to be able to help me collect on the promise of a now-former Lexus employee.  Patrick was an angry, rude, disrespectful asshole. No matter how many ways I explained myself, how many times I repeated that his employee made a promise and I expected that a company like Lexus would honor that promise since the customer is the priority and always right, he wouldn't budge. As a matter of fact, he actually told me that he didn't believe that I was told that at all, that it simply didn't happen. After informing him that I didn't take kindly to being called a liar, I told him that the only liar in question was his finance guy from 2009. He denied calling me a liar. I reminded him that he implied it clearly by telling me that my story didn't happen. He got pissed off, told me once again that it never happened.

At this point, I was not a happy camper. Telling him that I was there, not him...and with two other people who could corroborate MY story, that I was not a liar but a customer who got dicked over by one of his snake oil salesman playing on the naivete and exhaustion of folks who spent the entire day purchasing a fucking car. If I am told I can have a refund any goddamn time I choose, I want the refund...at a time that suits me. Plain and simple. If your employee makes a promise to me, he had damn well better be ready to make good on it when I ask. Patrick told me that he really didn't have to help me, anyway, and that I was rude. Isn't telling a customer that they are a liar and that their story never happened fairly motherfucking rude? He didn't like that. Told me he wasn't going to help me and hung up in my face.

Who here thinks I didn't immediately call back...show of hands? Yeah, you bet your ass I called back and informed him that hanging up on me was the biggest mistake he's made all week and this was NOT the end. The window licking cock cheese eater hung up again. Luckily, Lexus has a very special department where you can complain and open a case against an entire dealership. I called them up, told my story, and opened up a can of whoop ass on that bastard. Of course, they've been trying to contact him to no avail. Little pussy is probably pissing his panties knowing that corporate is after him. This isn't over. It's FAR from over. Does he think I'm going to let this slide? Are you friggin kidding me right now???

Customer Service Has Gone Down the Crapper

Just when I thought there were no more valid reasons to despise people, I come across the fine folks at Sears Customer Service. Right before we were embarking upon one of the hardest journeys of our lives, taking our only daughter to college, our goddamn refrigerator and freezer decide to stop working. Fast forward a scant few days, the kitchen smells but I have the Sears Repair dude on the way, so all will be right with the world. Or so I thought. Much like the cable guy, Sears Customer Service gives you a "window" during which your repair person should arrive.

So, there I sat in the house waiting for the fridge savior to show up between the hours of 11am and 5pm. Basically all fucking day. At first I thought, no sweat, the kid is working a day shift today, I have no car at my disposal, I can do this. Until, 5pm came and went. I almost chalked it up to traffic but something told me that was not the reason. So, I waited till 5:15pm and called customer service, who with a mildly apologetic tone, told me that the repair dude was backed up from other repair calls but would be there shortly. I don't know about you, but shortly means between 10 and 15 minutes to me. I'm already fuming at this point because they didn't call me to say he was running late, nor did he, which is protocol with Sears. Yet, I am at their mercy because I can't diagnose the problem nor fix it.

Now, it's 6:00pm and my phone rings. Repair dude must have found his cell phone tucked in his ass crack and realized he may need to use it to contact the fucking customers. "I'm running late, I had a few calls that ran over the expected time. I'll be right there." Well, okay. Do I have a choice? He shows up at 6:30, low on both energy and brain cells. But I bow to his expertise, I am not a repairman. After sticking his hand in the freezer and pulling out a fistful of frost he proudly announces what the problem is and says he will go check to see if he has the part on his truck. Upon his return, he tells us that he must order the part and it will arrive in two days and that we should make an appointment right now with him to ensure our repair happens before we have to leave for our weekend in college land.

At this point, I realize he doesn't give a flying fuck if we get the appointment we want, he just wants to go home. He fast talks us into taking a day and time we cannot make and tells us to just call and change it tomorrow. Oh ok, that simple, I can do that. But no, not quite so simple. I call the next day and am told there is no way to get the day I want without the part in my hand and I was looking at a least a week out unless I wanted to send my kid with all her boxes and crap alone up to school while I wait for the oh so important repair dude. Are you serious? After many phone calls back and forth, I finally get a semi-decent day and time, not ideal, but it'll do for now. Thinking I'll call over that bitch's head and get a better deal, I go about my business and temporarily accept what I am given.

Meanwhile, my husband, now armed with the name of the part, begins research on how to install it. Convinced we can do this, he says to fight again for the day and time we want, then cancel after WE fix the fridge. I am all over this like white on rice. I get the Sears assholes to call dispatch to get me the exact day and time I want after more heated and irate phone calls. I also get a $50 gift card for my troubles,but they owed me at least that.  Well, guess what? He removed the broken part and this bitch, that's right, ME...I installed the new one. The refrigerator works like a charm and I had the joy of calling the service department back to cancel the appointment, the morning OF, and tell them that we didn't need them because we did the goddamn job ourselves! The sound of shock in the voice of the customer service rep was music to my ears.

What can we learn from this? For starters, people in customer service are not customer service-oriented. In reality, they are misanthropic motherfucks who could care less if you are getting what you need. Next, know that the repair person only cares about putting in his hours and getting the fuck home. Whether you fit into the queue doesn't phase him in the slightest, nor does he care if you've taken off a day at work to wait for him to saunter into your home an hour and a half AFTER the window you stayed home to be available for and could have gone to work and STILL been there to greet his late-arriving ass. And finally, don't fuck with me, I don't put up with lame and inefficient bullshit. I will go over your head and I will take matters into my own hands. Are you friggin kidding me right now???