As I've mentioned (see, Abbott & Costello below), an airline recently lost a large suitcase of mine with most of my favorite clothes. I'm not a clothes horse, so I couldn't just reach into the closet for more of the same. The last three weeks has been a bit of a forced march through America's shops as I travel from city to city (DC, Boston, NY, DC, Tucson in the last 20 days). I work during the day and troll the stores at night before they close, desperately seeking items that fit and look well.
Shoes are a big deal in my life. I spent an adventurous and athletic youth, but the only broken bones I've ever had were one in each foot (different events). I had worn flat or low-heeled shoes ever since. Just this summer, I bought my first pair of high heeled shoes for work in twelve years. And, in the lost suitcase, were those beautiful black suede Stewart Weitzman shoes (tiny little cut out squares, pretty nickel buckle with a tasteful small, dark rhinestone) that I had owned for one week!
Yesterday, while standing in a store across town, I called the store where I had bought these gorgeous shoes and explained my loss. I also explained that I could not remember which size I had bought -- the whole size or the half size (such is the mystery of women's shoe sizing). A sympathetic saleswoman put me on hold and then reported back that she had the shoes in both sizes. Because of my dilemma, she agreed to put both pairs on hold until I could get there. I was delighted by such service and decency.
I spent the rest of the day shopping for other missing items, secure in the knowledge that I could replace my wonderful Weitzman shoes. I waltzed into the store twenty minutes before the mall closed, secure in the knowledge that I could dawdle a little over both pair. My mood evaporated when I looked across the service counter and saw only one shoe box where two should have been. And, I became downright despondent when I discovered that the store had four pair in the whole size and zero pair in the half size. You can guess which would fit -- the nonexistant half size of course!
It will be a while before I patronize that store again. I'm never good natured about bait-and-switch selling, but in this circumstance I think it's particularly inappropriate. The movie "Miracle on 34th Street" may be 50+ years old, but it still has the right message - your customers will be much more appreciative (and loyal) if you're honest with them when you haven't got the stock.
Shoes are a big deal in my life. I spent an adventurous and athletic youth, but the only broken bones I've ever had were one in each foot (different events). I had worn flat or low-heeled shoes ever since. Just this summer, I bought my first pair of high heeled shoes for work in twelve years. And, in the lost suitcase, were those beautiful black suede Stewart Weitzman shoes (tiny little cut out squares, pretty nickel buckle with a tasteful small, dark rhinestone) that I had owned for one week!
Yesterday, while standing in a store across town, I called the store where I had bought these gorgeous shoes and explained my loss. I also explained that I could not remember which size I had bought -- the whole size or the half size (such is the mystery of women's shoe sizing). A sympathetic saleswoman put me on hold and then reported back that she had the shoes in both sizes. Because of my dilemma, she agreed to put both pairs on hold until I could get there. I was delighted by such service and decency.
I spent the rest of the day shopping for other missing items, secure in the knowledge that I could replace my wonderful Weitzman shoes. I waltzed into the store twenty minutes before the mall closed, secure in the knowledge that I could dawdle a little over both pair. My mood evaporated when I looked across the service counter and saw only one shoe box where two should have been. And, I became downright despondent when I discovered that the store had four pair in the whole size and zero pair in the half size. You can guess which would fit -- the nonexistant half size of course!
It will be a while before I patronize that store again. I'm never good natured about bait-and-switch selling, but in this circumstance I think it's particularly inappropriate. The movie "Miracle on 34th Street" may be 50+ years old, but it still has the right message - your customers will be much more appreciative (and loyal) if you're honest with them when you haven't got the stock.