Oh Where, Oh Where, Has Customer Service Gone?

So very reminiscent of my experience at Barnes & Noble a few weeks back, I had yet another head boggling return conundrum at TJ Maxx today. Add that to the customer service debacle with Noodles & Company and our mechanic, which I'll explain further in just a minute, and one has to wonder, "Oh where, oh where, has Customer Service gone."

Perhaps my fuming frustration with Barnes & Noble and TJ Maxx, specifically, has surfaced due to the fact that I run a Mary Kay small business backed by a 100% full satisfaction guarantee issued by Corporate, and thus agree take back any product for which the customer isn't pleased, whether used or not. The item ends up getting pitched, as I certainly can not resell it. However, Mary Kay supports this return policy by sending me a replacement of the product. Free of charge. My response to a customer who is not pleased with her product, is to get her the product that she desires or return her money. No questions asked. It's "How can I help you" all the way. Nine times out of ten, the customer is so pleased not to be questioned and glared at, as I've experience from behind a counter, that they decide to do an exchange, rather than a return.

Imagine my surprise when I couldn't return my book at Barnes & Noble . . . which, thankfully, led me to the wonderful world of Borders . . . thus ending that chapter in my retail literary world with "happily ever after". Not so when I brazenly attempted to return a nightgown at TJ Maxx. With a receipt. And tags. Unattached. Unattached tags. The source of conflict.

"I'm not taking this back. You removed the tags."

"But, I have the tags right here."

"Sorry. It's the law. We can't take back lingerie with the tags removed. Health Code issue. We can't resell the item."

"Oh. I didn't know that was a law."

"Well, I know there's a law."

Ok, call me old fashioned, or whatever, but the garment was completely clean, obviously unworn, and was literally just missing an attached tag.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know there was a law. Is this posted in your lingerie section or on your return policy?"

Staring contest. I won!

"I'll return it for you this time, but I'm just going to have to throw it away." Flings item behind her on the shelf.

"Thank you."

Silence.

"You may know this law because you work in retail, but it would help if a sign were posted, or if those purchasing lingerie were told this at the time of purchase."

Silence.

"I really appreciate this."

Silence.

Clearly, she was done with me.

Well, you know me. I called TJ Maxx Corporate. There is no LAW. Ok, yes, I can meet them on the health concerns of refusing to take back undergarments with tags removed as clearly they can not be resold. I'm not disputing the policy. I'm not ignorant. I realize that there are those out there in our great nation who purchase items, wear them once or twice with tags hidden, and then return them. I'm even guilty of purchasing items for auditions, keeping the tag's on them, and then returning them after the audition . . . although I've never done this with, say, a thong. Let's just be clear here. I do understand.

But why not post the policy in the store? Or on the receipt?

Just like in Barnes & Noble, this woman was a snoot. Her tone was harsh, accusatory, and downright condescending. She couldn't be bothered with me, so she just stopped talking to me. So, while I understand that TJ Maxx has a policy about lingerie returns, albeit, a loose, non-posted policy, her approach with me did not reflect any desire to service the customer. She was just pissed at me.

By the way, I looked up the return policy for the store, and here is what I found. No mention of untagged items. Anywhere.

Noodles & Company
Our family loves Noodles & Company, but we will never again visit their location at Old Orchard Mall. Food all over non-carpet swept floors. Tables gone un-bussed for at least 30 minutes (including tables outside). Blank stares from the staff when I asked for the manager as we were surrounded by filthy tables . . . and we were one of only two families in the joint at the time. It was gross. The outer appearance made me wonder what was going on in the kitchen. We stayed, as Harper's teacher was already on her way to meet us, but we'll forgo this location in the future. The manager wouldn't even come out to speak to us.

Corporate is sending me coupons. They heard me.

Our Mechanic
The saga of our automobile repairs continues. Wrap your brain around this. When a mechanic offers to replace your engine, and orders the engine, only to realize that he ordered the WRONG engine, and then says he can get you the right engine, although with 20,000 more miles on it than the first engine, for, and get this, $500 more, although he'll meet you half way since the wrong engine was ordered in the first place, do you really think we should have to pay more? For an older engine? For the fact that the mechanic ordered the WRONG one? Where is the sense in this?

And don't even get me started on Humana.

What I Have NOT To Wear

I am being stalked by Stacey and Clinton. They are trying to track me down with their voodoo fashion magic.

I can hear them talking to me as I stand bewildered and naked in front of my closet staring at the little I have hanging there, most of which are pieces from a season gone by.

Wait a minute. I'm not talking about turning over one's closet from season to season. All my clothes fit in my closet. All at one time. Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall. There is no packing away the Winter clothes and airing out of the Spring ones. They all live happily together all year round. What you see is all I have.

Do I sound selfish? Probably. However, before you accuse me of selfishness, read on with an open mind, for this post isn't so much a whine about a lack of clothing as much as it is about the lack of a wardrobe that actually fits. A wardrobe that actually fits both my physical shape and my personality.

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that the past 6 months have brought about many changes. Actually the changes began 2 years ago, but I've only been writing about them within the past year. As a family, we've dealt with job issues for George, issues that permeated into our daily lives at home, health issues for George and Harper which were heavy and draining, a restlessness of my creative desires urging me to seek ways to further my talents, the decrease of personal finances as I left a lucrative coaching business in order to be present for my kids, the beginning of new business with Mary Kay, and now, the faithful leap into writing.

You've read how all these things have effected me emotionally and spiritually. I have not shared how they have effected me physically. And once again, before you say to yourself, "You are fine. You look great!" Let me say, I don't feel great.
Daily exercise has become an activity of the past except for a Saturday morning workout class and a rare hustle on the elliptical machine. A shoulder injury and possible foot surgery have been a part of this, to be certain, but mainly, my lack of exercise has been solely due to physical fatigue.

I have desired and hoped and tried and tried again at getting back to a good solid workout routine. And yet, I've never been able to recover the discipline I once had.

However, this post is not meant to be a pity party, although it may sound like I'm having one. Nope. This post is a release of what was and the acceptance of of a new design for me.

No one can come out of the 2 years that I've had and be the same person with the same disciplines, same schedule, same desires and goals, same daily structure, and the same physical body. I've been trying to return to what I knew and how I lived, when in truth, I'm not the same person any longer. I've been attempting to regain my old workout routines, only to find myself frustrated at my inability to keep up the schedule, and thus, I stop trying completely. It's a cycle that just goes on and on and on.

What I've not realized until today is that I am in the process of painting a completely new picture of my life and thus, working out as I once did, just doesn't make sense anymore. I have already repainted the picture of my professional goals and have made changes to further them. Why not the same with my physical goals?
So, why all the talk about Stacey and Clinton?

Because if they saw my wardrobe, they too would say I am trying to live in the style of days gone by. By my own admission, I am not built for the majority of the clothing in my closet. It is filled with pieces that emphasize what used to be my best physical assets. I really don't care to spend day after day working on a flat stomach any longer. And thus, the lower waist jeans or the tighter shirts need to go. AND THAT'S OK!

My favorite outfit, the one which I feel looks the best on me and fits my personality to a T is my Easter outfit from this year. When George saw me in it he went nuts . . .:) I think it was mainly due to the shoes. The red shoes. When I saw myself in the outfit I felt like me. It's not a teeny bopper outfit. It doesn't cause muffin top. It's not a tank top. It's not fitted. It's fun and artistic.

I'm not giving up exercise. That's just plain unhealthy. I'm not copping out. I am, however, changing the way I approach it. My body image from my commercial days (where I had to be trim) continued on into my non-commercial days and post baby days, where I worked and yearned and begged to continue being trim. I don't need to be trim. I need to be healthy. Who am I trying to impress? I will continue my Saturday morning class. I will get on that elliptical 3 days a week and I'll try and pick up a yoga class here and there. And that's just fine for the me I am now! And later, when I have kids in school all day, that may change. I am going to choose to live for now - not what was - not what will be. Now. No more quitting because I can't keep up with how I used to exercise. A new plan for a new time.

What does that mean for my closet? I want clothes that feel great. That don't tug. That are my personality. That don't necessarily rely on Spanks. I've already loaded up a bunch to be donated . . . and I picked up a few "new" things today at the thrift store where I always find treasures.

Stacey and Clinton, you would be proud of me. And, if you feel like putting me on your show, I'll get rid of all of it all just to see you. To be honest, it's not that I have a ton of crap, like many of your guests, but rather, I hardly have anything. So, if you choose me, I will come willingly. And I'll bring everything.

Everything but the red shoes.

Friday Night's Pre-dinner Entertainment

George's pre-dinner entertainment:

Battling rush hour traffic to take Scout to the vet for her check up.

Getting to the vet, only to find that Scout had thrown up in her crate.

Getting Scout's bedding out of the crate and shaking it off in the parking lot in an attempt to clean it.

Cleaning up Scout.

Cleaning up after Scout again when she pooped in the waiting room.

Battling rush hour traffic to get back home.

Stopping by Pita Inn to pick up an order.

Realizing that Zane had had a blow out while waiting for the order.

Getting home to find that Scout had thrown up in her crate for the second time.

Giving Scout a bath.

Giving the crate a bath.

He sounded great as I spoke with him on the phone about all this. How? "I'm CHOOSING joy" was his response.

And then, making it all worth it . . . we enjoyed a wonderful dinner together and then spent the remainder of the evening watching the kids sit and sift through all the scrapbooks I'd made and all the photo's of us prior to children. The time together was priceless, their comments were so very sweet ("When did I see Santa?" "That's me, Harper!" "I look just like YOU!") ("Mom! I'm so cute!" "Yes, Zane." "Mom, I'm not going back in your tummy." "No, Zane.") and thus, the evening, just seemed to fall into place.Although I'd already had a stellar evening.

Joline's pre-dinner entertainment:

Taking Harper shopping for clothes with the gift card from Uncle Chuck.

Picking shirts off the rack only to be told, "Mom, that is soooooo yesterday!" Thank you Hannah Montana.

Realizing, that my daughter has really distinct and funky tastes. I was FLOORED by what she chose to try on: bold patterns, leggings, very trendy designs. Um, who are you?

Watching Harper's face LIGHT UP when she looked at herself in the mirror in clothes other than jeans and a long sleeve tee. "Mom! I really like this. It goes great with my hair!"

Watching her try on the coolest dress, (an asian design which she just loved on the rack) only to comment on the arms . . . "I look like an Emporer. I like it, but not the sleeves. Look! I'm an emporer." I mean, who says this?

"Apparently, this will not work."

"Apparently, this will!"

Learning that my daughter is a fun shopping partner.

Watching Harper's confidence soar as she really looked at herself.

The conversation following our shopping outing:

"Harper, it's not the clothes that make you cool."

"It isn't?"

"No. There's nothing wrong with wanting to find clothes that kind of match your personality and make you feel like yourself. But, it's not as important as . . . well, look at your world map. What makes you cool is that God made this entire world and universe and loves YOU!"

"Really?" Pause. "It's weird."

"What's weird?"

"I don't think I'm great. My brain tells me that I can't do anything."

"Well, that's not God talking." This moved into a conversation about different kinds of doctors. One's who fix broken bones, one's who fix ears, and noses, and throats, and, even . . . thoughts inside our heads.

And then, at dinner, we talked about our personalities. When I asked Harper what my personality was, she answered with, "You are like the most famous singer! And, don't forget. There's also the Mary Kay." (She also added that I was famous like Ben Stiller. Huh?)

She then defined her personality as being good at handwriting and reading.

Hmmm . . . defining ourselves by what we wear and what we do. Now, isn't that a blog for another day?

Anyway, I had an incredible bonding evening with my daughter.

While George got to clean up a lot of waste.

But, so did I. Kind of. Although mine wasn't as messy and didn't really smell or make me want to gag and wash my hands a million times.

We're parents. We clean waste. With the help of God we attempt to clean the waste the best we can, whether that be diapers, dogs, or . . . the demeaning thoughts that seem to stack up in my daughter's head that tell her that she's not able to do anything well.

I did share with her that sometimes, I don't get it right as a Mom.

Harper: "Mom, mom, mom. That is so, so, so, not right!"

Zane: "Yeah, Mom. You have to believe." You too, kiddo's.

Believe.