Give me something, please

iPhone News and Forums at ModMyi.com

Since nobody looks at this thing, I guess it's okay to sell out in the hopes of getting more free stuff, even though the very post which prompted me to start a blog in the first place went nowhere. And that was supposed to be guaranteed.

Because of this, I doubt that I'll get any points from posting that link up there, and I'm even more positive that -- even if I were to somehow be given the points -- still nothing would come of it, given that I never, ever, ever win anything. I wish I was just being an overdramatic, hyperbolic ass but I'm afraid there's not the slightest twinge of exaggeration in that statement. The last thing I won was a guinea pig from my kindergarten class. But even that was rigged (they knew I really wanted it so they obviously let me win). I'm now a 5th year senior in college, pathetic in a loveable, Charlie Brown kind of way (please don't correct me), in a condition that nobody wants to reward with free things.

So here I am, once again, selling out and pining for points I won't get to try and win something I won't even be considered for. And this is the sad state my life is in.

Unless...

Selena Gomez, RIP

Los Angeles, CA (AP) The young, Latin actress and quickly rising songbird -- a beauty queen marked by her age and endless talent -- is believed to be dead tonight, a lesson to many that texting and driving is as dangerous as it appears.

Not only did most agree that she was essentially a prettier, more capable version of Miley Cyrus, but her rise to fame was accomplished properly (through a small, supporting role on Barney & Friends) through hard work, as opposed to riding the coattails of a talentless one-hit-wonder father.

The red Mercedes-Benz C230 was found off of Sunset Boulevard late Tuesday night and into the early morning of Wednesday, hardly recognizable after hitting a light post, save for a few pieces of the rear end license plate reading simply "WZARDD".

Emergency crews were on the scene as early as 2 a.m., Pacific Daylight Time.

My Issue with Best Buy: A Memoir from an Ex-Employee

Dramatics of the title aside, something needs to be done about the garbage policies of the self-proclaimed "World's largest electronics retailer". I've heard complaints and seen angry customers storm out of the store for months, but always figured they were confused or simply didn't understand a reasonably placed policy. I assumed it was something on their end. Or at least I did.

Let me start at the beginning, since that's the most logical place to begin.

In April of 2008 I bought a Cobra radar detector, model XRS 9540 (yeah, I know, you're thinking "Why's he telling us this?"; I promise it comes back later). When it came time to make my purchase a coworker of mine strongly encouraged I go with the 2 year replacement plan, promising me – as I had done so many times with my own customers – that in the event ANYTHING went wrong with it (not working right, not working at all, damage from heat, dust, humidity, whatever) it would be replaced. The best part of this plan? If the model I was buying was no longer available, they'd give me the closest model instead. Killer deal, and for only 15 bucks. Or so I thought.

After a quick weekend trip home to Texas, I returned to the somehow-still-cold state of Utah to prepare for yet another semester. But when I got in my car and plugged in the radar detector, nothing was working.

It was busted.

"No problem", I remember thinking. "I'll just take it back in and get it replaced. Good thing I got the plan!" And a couple of days later I went back to my old store in Orem to do just that.

It's always nice going back to the store because I know most of the people there, and I'm pretty sure none of them hate me that much. There's not that awkward unfamiliarity you feel between yourself and the employees when you're shopping somewhere else. All in all, it's a pleasant experience. And this time was no different. I brought in the broken detector, told another former co-worker what happened, and she sent me to Car-Fi to find the replacement. Unfortunately, the store's stock was low and there wasn't a comparable model to select from. The XRS 9540 (told you) had been clearanced out, replaced by the XRS 9545. I was told I would have to make the drive to American Fork the following day in order to get one.

I'll be honest: I wasn't too happy with the notion of driving 20 minutes north to get a replacement. Gas is expensive and since the management at the Orem store continues to waffle on whether or not I can/potentially will be rehired, I still don't have a source of income. But I understand stores won't always have everything in stock and making the drive was just one little inconvenience stopping me from getting the radar detector I badly needed.

When I got to the store they were in closing mode. 30 minutes until the doors shut, I realized there were better times to do something like this but had little choice. I needed that detector and I needed it now. It's not like the cops were gunna wait to start clocking until I got a working one.

Things at the returns counter seemed to be going smoothly: the kid working the line was on the phone filing the claim and seemingly making things work. I noticed him swiping a bright yellow gift card, but simply dismissed it as just a step in the process.

The boy got off of the phone and handed me the card.

"What's this?" I questioned.

"A gift card for the amount you originally paid." Clearly, he didn't give a crap about anything.

As informative as his reply had been, it still didn't tell me anything about the amount that was on the card.

"Which is…?" I ventured further.

"Eighty dollars and seventy-six cents" was the response. I knew this was wrong.

"I don't want a gift card – I want my replacement."

"Uhhh…" the kid offered.

I emphasized my previous point: "I don't want a gift card. I want a replacement model."

"I…can't do that?" The guy just screamed confidence.

"Why not?"

"Well you bought it when you were an employee, so you got it at the discounted price. Now I have to give you a gift card."

His explanation made no sense to me, but I had places to go and the store was going to close so I decided to take the radar detector and walk away this time. I'd be back in a couple of days.

To seek some sort of explanation I returned to the Orem store the next day where I spoke to yet another former co-worker of mine. I told them what had happened with the store in American Fork, and their reaction basically consisted of shock and awe as well as the conclusion I hadn't been treated correctly. It was even suggested I go back the following day and tell them they're not allowed to send me away. I took this advice to heart and made yet another drive to AF to finally and hopefully get the issue resolved.

Once again I found myself at the returns desk, this time working with an Ops manager of some kind (I don't currently remember her exact title), while someone wearing a "General Manager" tag worked silently on the computer next to her. The manager typed some things in her computer but came up with the same conclusion as the kid from the previous trip. However, she offered a different scenario, stating that the only way she could possibly provide me with a "replacement" would be to give me the display. I couldn't have an upgrade, even though this is what I was promised when I bought the original radar detector with the Service Plan. I asked to speak to the General Manager, seeing as he had just been there a second ago. Instead I got someone else, an extraordinarily fat man with an even bigger attitude named "Agent Worf" or something similar. He came in with a "yeah I'm not gunna do anything about it" smirk on his face. While I tried to explain how their service plan was essentially only useful for me as long as I was employed there and had access to the discount, he looked around continuing to carry a smugness Steve Jobs would have envied.

"A gift card doesn't do me any good" I tried to explain once more. "I need a replacement radar detector because that was what was promised to me when I bought it."

"Well that's not my store that told you that." He responded dryly.

I couldn't believe this was really the route he was going.

"Well I was told that by an employee of the company, so it's a company problem if they're misrepresenting products when they're selling them. That doesn't mean you can refuse to take responsibility for that mistake." I continued "I've sold hundreds of these plans to customers before under the premise that when their product breaks down, the replacement plan will allow them to get a replacement on their product."

He treated himself to a conceited little scoff and retorted "Well my employees are actually trained correctly so they don't tell customers those kinds of things." Which was utter trash, given this was the actual policy when I bought the radar detector a year ago.

Still I couldn't believe just how rude this sweat-rag of a man was being, and I responded the only way I could.

"You can take all the pot shots you want; getting personal won't compensate for the fact that you aren't doing anything to explain the situation to me."

I could feel his eyes rolling. "Well this ain't gunna happen, so…"

I asked who he was, since it was obvious by his Geek Squad outfit he wasn't the General Manager. He informed me he was the GM of Geek Squad, which didn't really impress me compared to store's GM, and I requested to speak to the real GM instead. He and the Ops lady both insisted the GM wasn't there, even after I pointed out the fact the man standing next to her a few minutes before had "General Manager" on his nametag.

I informed Worf/Wharf/Whorf I was calling 1-888-BEST-BUY and he told me to go ahead. As I waited on the phone, another customer in line smiled and summed up the scenario in a few words: "They giving you problems?"

"Just don't ever get the service plan here" was my advice.

The shirts behind the counter went into lockdown mode. "Now you're harassing my customers", fatty feigned concern for the hapless, service-plan-buying patrons. "You need to leave."

"Seriously?" I asked in disbelief. "You're resorting to this so you don't have to deal with me?"

He swung his authority stick, threatening to call the police if I didn't leave. I didn't really think there was much the police would be able to do, but rather than risk any chance of some bored Utah Valley officer pretending he was on COPS and taking things too far, I opted to leave on my own terms, still waiting to be connected with someone from the Best Buy hotline.

Navigating through the rain, I got to the car and spoke to the gentleman on the line. After exchanging information he informed me that the policy of the store is to give you the value that you paid for, and that a replacement plan would not in fact replace the broken item, regardless of what happened to it. All they do is slap you with store credit in the amount of whatever you spent. And since I got the item at the employee pricing, all I would get back was the cost-plus-5-percent amount I had paid, and not enough credit for the ridiculously marked up radar detectors available now.

It would have been nice to know this at the time of buying the replacement plan.

I filed a formal complain with the so-called "Agent" and made my way back to the store in Orem. Once there, another wait in the customer service line took me to familiar faces and another explanation of what had just happened. Two of the employees I spoke to weren't entirely surprised by the ineptitude and high level of unprofessionalism displayed by the store – that, apparently, is the American Fork location's reputation. They did seem surprised, however, with the way I was denied a replacement. It seemed to be their understanding as well that I was owed what I was promised and that nothing less was acceptable. It was good to finally have someone on my side.

As I waited, though, my favorite ex-manager walked up to say hi. I told her what happened and she didn't seem the least bit taken aback that I was denied a replacement, citing the newish policy that had been established in October of 2008. Apparently, Best Buy no longer replaces your items because they don't want to give you more than you initially paid. It used to be that you could come in and get a replacement, as I had been told would be the case in April of last year. Now, because Best Buy is a greedy company that couldn't care less about its customers, they've decided that a replacement plan doesn't replace your items at all. They just give you store credit back. Not even your actual money. And even though I bought the plan before this new policy change, my manager said the changes apply retroactively, which completely changes the terms of the plan I purchased. I now own a product completely different than what it was when I bought it. Something about that isn't right.

So if you get something on sale, get the service plan, and if it's the same price after the manufacturer's warranty has expired, you'll still have to pay the difference to get a new one. You don't actually get your item replaced. This may still seem like a decent deal, but let me provide you with the following scenario:

You buy a GPS system for 130 dollars on sale, originally 180 dollars. 50 dollars off is a good deal, right? But you tack on the 20 dollar service plan, and in one year it breaks. At this point, this particular GPS system is no longer on sale and is still being sold for 180 dollars. You paid that 20 dollars for the service plan in order to have it replaced if anything happens to it, and now you want it replaced. But since you got the system on sale for 130 bucks, that's all you're getting back and to get a working system you'll have to fork over 50 dollars of your own money to get it back. Factor in the 20 dollars you lost to the plan and that's 70 dollars. Not exactly the same thing they sold you, is it?

Now here's something even likelier. Let's say when you return in a year that GPS system you bought isn't even being sold anymore, as is often the case in electronics. Garmin went ahead and "updated" that model you bought by adding a couple more streets or making the screen 2% brighter, but now it's got a different model name, a different SKU, and comes up in the system as something entirely different. Now the new model model is priced similarly to what YOUR old model used to be when it first came onto the market -- 200 dollars. So now, in order to get a product almost identical to the one you originally purchased you have to shell out 70 dollars extra plus the 20 dollars for the plan. That's 90 dollars extra for a replacement – 90 dollars more than it should have been considering you were sold the plan on the pretense you could bring it in for a quick replacement. This is essentially what happened to me.

What has happened to me is nothing short of false advertising and a breach of contract. I bought the plan with the promise of getting a replacement – that's why it's called the Product Replacement Plan, and that's the main draw to paying for it in the first place. Now all I have is a near-useless 80 dollar gift card to Best Buy that won't even get me a decent radar detector without my discount. I was treated like complete crap, personally insulted, and kicked out of the store for refusing to be stepped on. And I was lied to and swindled by the company I worked for when I paid money for the piece of garbage Cobra radar detector and the Best Buy service plan.

Something here needs to change.

My Dream Woman Handles Packages With Care

I wrote this down as an idea and a concept sketch -- not for the sake of publishing, so the introduction is pretty by the book, so to speak. As I got more comfortable with what I was writing you can tell, and I sink a bit more naturally into the bit. Just figured it needed a disclaimer, as does all of my work:

I’m trudging up the stairs from the garage to my second floor apartment. It’s been a long, hard, arduous day of classes I didn’t want to go to and listening to lectures I didn’t want to hear. As I turn the corner of the basement and come up the stairs to the first floor landing, a familiar and welcome sight awaits me. It’s the post-woman, and she’s filling our boxes with all kinds of gifts and wonderous mysteries in 3”x11” envelopes. Seeing as how I’ve just completed a long day of working hard myself, I can empathize with this little miracle worker. Quaint and quietly, she sincerely and carefully places each package in their respective slots. I couldn’t even begin to imagine doing something so monotonous and tedious without frequently committing embarrassing errors. What strikes me the most is the sudden realization that, after a semester and a half of seeing this woman almost daily, I have yet to express my thanks for her dedication.

“That’s some hard work you’re doing there” I offer after two full minutes of standing there in silence. She hadn’t noticed me.

Wiping her brow with a tired forearm, she wrinkles her nose and half-pants a confused “’Scuse me?”

It was wheezy and raw, as if she was made from the Earth itself.

“I said that’s some hard work you’re doing there. I can’t imagine ever doing that job.”

Changing her body language, the post woman drops her crate of envelopes and packages and faces me, hands on her hips.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I-I’m sorry??”, I stammer helplessly.

“You think you’re something special huh? Just ‘cuz you live in this nice, new complex. Mommy and Daddy paying your bills and everything. Smartass. You think you’re gunna be something special in your business suit and little cubicle making them 6 figures!? You wouldn’t last a day in this work!”

I’m floored, to say the least. “I-I know..th-that’s what I was trying to--”

“Fuck you.” She spits.

The only thing I can do is slowly back into the stairwell. I do.

“…have a good day.” I manage to half-whisper.

I get a middle finger and one more profanity-laced farewell for good measure.

I should get some sleep.

Parking, ponds, and ducks.

A walk to class wouldn't be the biggest deal every now and then. It's not like I'm far from campus -- that was one of the appealing aspects of living here in the first place -- and the weather's been getting nicer by the week. I could additionally use some sun and, as always, some exercise.

Still, every day, I find myself grabbing the keys from the table on the way out and heading down to the basement to get my car. A brief drive to campus is complete in somewhere around 5 minutes, assuming I get most of the lights and no idiot pedestrians decide to jump out in front of my car when they're not supposed to be crossing. Neither of those is terribly unlikely here.

The problems begin, however, when the hunt for a parking spot begins.

It would be one thing if the kind, smiling demeanor exhibited by the population during Sunday morning church services somehow continued throughout the week. But they don't. Instead this place becomes a frothing, sadistic hunt -- like tribesman in some unknown and underdeveloped stretch of continent. An unoccupied spot is like sweet mana for a starving family of 6 back at the homestead and it is up to each driver to provide.

Every precious second lost in the desert of asphalt and concrete is a second lost either in the classroom, gaining the upper hand on the competition, or time spent not flirting one's way into eternal spiritual, social, and fiscal salvation. It is crucial that you find a spot...

...and find it fast.

It makes sense, then, that I was overcome with joy to find the perfect spot today on my way to Psych302. It was there, empty and begging for someone to parallel park into it, protecting it from the elements beyond. So I did.

There are 2 main reasons why I loved this spot so much:

1. The duck pond. It sounds retarded, I know, but I really like that pond. It's small, it's different, and it has ducks. What more do you people want? I'll get back to this later.

2. Quick access to my buildings. It's the closest stretch of parking on the south side of campus, which is where my 3 o'clock class is. In fact, that's where all of my classes are. Remember: class time and courtship. These are the things I'm here for, apparently, yet I'll probably leave with very little of both.

Basically, it was shaping up to be a good day.

This is the point where you might expect things to take a drastic turn for the worst. Good weather. Great parking spot. One class. There's no way this could sustain itself all day, right?

WRONG.

Class went without a hitch -- boring as expected, and I didn't do anything stupid from the point I left my car to the point I started back down the stairs to return to it. You want to know what did happen, though? It got better.

Why? Ducks.
That's why.

There was one duck in particular, just a typical white duck with an orange beak. But as he was waddling towards the warm sanctity of the pond, I noticed how he was walking; how all the other ducks were walking. And the first thought that came into my mind was: Hey, that duck is walking pigeon-toed. Which, of course, isn't right. That duck was walking like a duck. That's how ducks walk. So why should we as a society deem that walking like a duck is, in fact, walking like a pigeon? Why limit them to one specific kind of fowl? Why can't we call them duck-toed as well? I, for one, think this is something that is of utmost imporatant as it addresses an incorrect assumption in our society. Most importantly, it does the ducks a disservice and -- dammit -- ducks deserve to have some recognition in this day and age. I'm not going to just stop at this blog though. People must know. And I'll make sure they will.

Now, whenever you hear me saying something about raising awareness, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

That, and reducing my carbon footprint.

How's This for Something New?

I like free things. A lot. Getting something for little or no cost is one of the few things that can motivate me to move from out of the tepid pool of laziness I usually find myself in and on to doing something with my life.

Like this post. Scott had been pushing and begging me to start my blog for months. And while I honestly wanted to do it and realized what good practice writing on a near-daily basis would be, I still couldn't find the effort inside me to click open a new tab, navigate to my gmail account, find the dirt foundation I had already laid out, and actually put something down.

You know what did though? Free food. From Dairy Queen. All I had to do was get off of my lazy as-- wait. I didn't even have to get up. So all I had to do was sit here and type up this little blurb in a matter of 5 minutes, email DQ, and I get food at no cost.

I'm not lying -- this 'free' thing is powerful stuff. Keep it coming.