I Hate Macy’s

I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this about myself, but I really can’t stand Macy’s. Seriously. I don’t know if it’s just the one near my house or Macy’s in general, but I can’t hate shopping there. Now, in the past, I’ve gone there with all three kids, and sure enough, things take too long, and the kids break down, and I can’t get out of there quickly enough. I certainly can’t blame the store for that. Well, if they had a mini restaurant or something there where I could get them a little snack – and make them a little extra money – it might help, but I won’t hold that against them.

I went there today with several items to return (the fact that there were so many returns ought to say something, but let’s just chalk it up to difference in styles, and overlook for now the fact that the two toys that were purchased there – for a combined $90 – broke within 2 hours of opening them, through no fault of the kids). So I’ve got these 2 toys and a kid’s outfit, a woman’s sweater, and a men’s sweater. And I go to one of the “Customer Service” desks to make my returns.

“These will have to be returned upstairs,” the lady says immediately looking at the children's toys and clothes.

“Well, I have something from this department,” I tell her (this is something that someone told me once before when telling me she couldn’t handle my return at the counter closest to the door, thus forcing me to go all the way upstairs to another identical counter in another department).

“Fine, but these will have to be returned upstairs,” she repeats, pointing to the toys and kid’s outfit.

Now, I’m not sure if this is my being a bitch or just being assertive when faced with an asinine store policy, but I decided not to go upstairs for the return.

“What’s the point of shopping in one store if I can’t make all my returns in one place?” I was very polite when I said this.

The other lady agreed to take all the returns (mind you, there were no other customers waiting in line at this point, neither one was helping anyone else, and they were getting paid to be there). In the end, she managed to credit the items to my mom’s credit card, which I didn’t have on me, without a receipt, which, for a couple of the items, I didn’t have on me (not on purpose; I was digging through my purse the whole time looking for it).

Afterwards, I did end up going upstairs to the children’s department anyhow to use up the damn gift cards we had received, but still. So I went upstairs, bought just enough stuff to use up the gift cards (and pay $2.38 in cash rather than leave cash on the cards), discovering in the process that the Extra 20% Off card with barely any restrictions doesn’t apply to regular priced items. Kind of sneaky use of the word Extra, if you ask me. It’s those regular priced items that I’d like to get cheaper.

I know this isn’t some horror story. Pretty mundane, actually. But I was thinking about it the whole drive home. In this day of “The customer is always right,” I feel like Macy’s has policies that are more convenient for the employees than the shoppers. The first lady (who didn’t help me) showed me that rather than help me, she’s happy to stand around and do nothing for her money. The second lady (who did help me) showed me that Macy’s refusal to allow returns in one spot is more a policy than a restriction on their systems. They can do it; they just choose not to. And to make me feel like they were doing me a favor by doing so?! That’s kinda low.

If their computer systems are capable of handling returns anywhere, and the employees are trained to handle returns anywhere, then it’s mere laziness if they don’t handle returns anywhere. Why should I carry the merchandise upstairs for them? Why can’t the other lady, who was just standing around anyhow (did I mention she was getting paid to be there), carry the items upstairs? I’m not suggesting that people who work in retail don’t work hard and get tired, especially this time of year. I am usually rather considerate and will go out of my way to help others. So to get me to think this of an employee makes me mad. If Macy’s really doesn’t want to have items from different departments lying around everywhere, perhaps they could just have one customer service desk that handles all returns. It’s been done before, and people accept that concept pretty readily.

Anyhow, enough venting. Just do me a favor. If you’re going to buy me a gift, please don’t get me anything from Macy’s. In case I don’t like it (or it’s not my size, or I already have one), I don’t want to have to go back there. It’s hard to boycott a place when you’re forced to return.

Go Cleveland!!!

What a big victory for Cleveland. Fine, our sports teams have fallen short, with the Browns losing in a heartbreaking yet hard-fought battle against the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Buckeyes lost to Illinois (okay, technically not Cleveland, but still, they're our team).

So as I watched the final episode of "The Next Iron Chef" I braced myself for the inevitable disappointment. Michael Symon, from Cleveland, versus John Besh, of New Orleans. I mean, c'mon. Cajun and creole food, America's most endeared city since Katrina hit, the odds were really against Michael.

And John Besh threw in a dessert at the last second. Out of swordfish! How daring!

But in the end, we won!! Michael Symon won. Cleveland has a renowned chef. And everyone knows it.

Woohoo!

Peripeteia

The Word of the Day for November 10 is:

peripeteia \pair-uh-puh-TEE-uh\ noun
: a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances or situation especially in
a literary work

Seriously. This was today's word of the day. How do you like that? Ain't that a kicker? If I believed in the paranormal or in signs, I would have gotten this word in my email (I'm on the Merriam-Webster Word of the Day mailing list) and perhaps could have been prepared.

But I was not. Not only did I not check my email until this evening, by which time the peripeteia had already occurred, but I bet that even if I had, I would not have expected it.

We lost. The Buckeyes lost. Okay, now, I had complained in previous weeks that we really didn't seem so good. We won one game despite three turnovers. We were sloppy, coasting, and it was bound to catch up with us. And it did. I think we were looking ahead to the Michigan game and the National Championship and were caught revelling in our own glory.

Lucky for me, I'm from Cleveland. And such a loss as this will not cause me to lose any sleep tonight. My kids, on the other hand, will (cause me to lose sleep, that is. They will sleep like babies - which is such a false simile. Babies wake up every few hours screaming at the top of their lungs. Why would anyone want to sleep like a baby? Seriously.)

Iron Chef Suburbia

I was just reading the paper today, and it had an article about Michael Symon, a renowned Cleveland chef who is one of the finalists for Iron Chef America. For those of you not familiar with the show 'Iron Chef', well, where have you been? But seriously, the premise is that a chef competes against an Iron Chef, and the two are presented with a secret ingredient just before the competition begins, and they are given a fixed amount of time to cook a number of dishes, all incorporating the secret ingredient. The dishes are then tasted by a panel of judges, who rate the dishes on presentation, creativity, taste - or something like that. 'The Next Iron Chef' is a competition between a number of chefs who are vying to join the ranks of 'Iron Chef's, currently numbering four.

So anyhow, here in Cleveland we are quite proud that the world (or at least the TV audience of 'Iron Chef America') is getting to know what we in Cleveland have known for years - that Michael Symon is one heck of a chef. I may actually have to watch Sunday's finale to find out if Cleveland does win a championship in something or if we fall short once again. I have to confess, it doesn't bother me at all if we don't win, since it means Michael Symon won't have to split his time and may open yet another wonderful restaurant.

But here's the thing. On Iron Chef, Iron Chef America, and The Next Iron Chef, these competing chefs are given a high-end kitchen, a fully stocked pantry, and two assistants. And then they're asked to be creative. Fine, it's challenging and entertaining. But it's unattainable, unreal. It's not really the ultimate challenge. What I'd like to see is what I like to call 'Iron Chef Suburbia'. I challenge any of the chefs on the show - champion or otherwise - to come to my kitchen and create a healthy, tasty meal that my kids will eat before the kids have a meltdown. And as an added challenge, the contestants must stop any fights between the children and change any diapers, and let the dog out, and answer the phone if any of these things happen during the competition. Oh yes, and the contestants must use whatever ingredients happen to be on hand at the time, even if the homeowners didn't have a chance to go to the grocery store as they had planned.

I say, this winter, perhaps sometime in February, my block should host Iron Chef Suburbia. The contestants will cook at the same time in, say, three different houses (mine and two of my neighbors). The homeowners can be sous-chefs and assistants. Finally, the three families can get together in a fourth house, where the judging will be done by the four families - including the kids. We can invite the local paper and some television station over to share the findings. Then, the winner can enjoy some free advertising for his or her restaurant. Heck, we can make it a series, where each week, a different group of chefs can come to my house and cook for me (umm, I mean, compete).

This idea has some merit. Heck, why wait until February? Anyone interested in signing up now?