Home Depot: Take Two (or How to Get Attention at the Home Depot)

After my weekend experience at a Home Depot (see prior post), I went in to yesterday's HD with a bad 'tude. I was there to get pressure treated 2X6's, in 8 and 10 foot lengths; so I donned my fashionable black back-belt for support and pushed in one of the orange Depot carts which, alone, must weigh as much as I. I headed back to the lumber section and hadn't even reached the treated wood when an employee asked if I needed help. I wouldn't want another person to choose my wood for me any more than I'd want him choosing my clothing or my dinnerware, so I politely turned down the offer and briefy reconsidered my take on HD employees. As I began fishing through the 8' pieces, another employee asked if he could help me. Okay, now I'm beginning to feel a bit like I'm on display.
"No thanks." I smiled. He seemed hesitant but walked away. Liability concerns?
By the time I got to my 10' pieces, I could feel more eyes on me. But I kept going. They would see that I knew what I was doing and leave me be. Nope.
"Do you need some help with that?"
I looked up to see three guys who were NOT employees, standing at my beck and call, plus Mr Hesitant Employee still hovering in the background.
"No thanks, just checking out the wood."
I continued to roll the wood on its side, checking to see how straight each piece was, while trying to balance it awkwardly on my giant, rolling orange cart. But, there's nothing like four burly guys staring to make the most competent 4'11" wood checker DROP her wood. They rushed over, as I knew they would, and the larger of the three non-employees gave me a lesson on how to pivot my wood to check for bow-dom. I was familiar w/ the technique but appreciative of his intent and thanked him.
As I pushed my large and loud cart to the front, two additional employees offered to help me load the wood into my car. To end this story properly, the checkout person also offered to call someone for me. So, Home Depot, you've redeemed yourself. At least, until I return to your garden department.

My Rules of Customer Service

My blog seems to be turning into a whine-fest. But here goes: Over the weekend, Paul and I visited the garden center at a Home Depot. After walking a couple of aisles, I didn't notice ground cover. So, I walked to the front and ask the twenty-something guy, who was busy chatting w/ another employee, where I could find it.
"Ummm. . . ugggh . . I dunno. I'll call". God forbid he have to walk around and learn anything about the department he's working in. I figured by the time he called and found someone, I could find it myself. I was right. No biggie there, but he never followed up. Never an 'Oh, I'm glad you found it' or 'Did you find it?' And don't even consider the option of him walking over to me; he returned to his prior conversation, never to acknowledge my presence again. When it was time to check out, I purchased, among other items, a large, heavy plant on a trellis. No offer to carry it to my car. I looked around for plastic to lay in my car and there was none to be had.
"Do you have any plastic sheets?" I asked the girl who checked me out.
"I don't know." But she turned around and pulled out one piece from a large box hidden behind the check out counter.
"Could I have a couple more please?" I asked
She complied. Meanwhile, a different checker commented to my husband, who was standing there waiting:
"She (me) doesn't know what she's doing--those sheets are big."
I don't know what I'm doing? You're kidding--did you graduate from the customer service training school?
There, I feel better. I like to think I'm a pretty patient customer when the employee makes an effort (I think I'm a good driver too). There's nothing more pleasing than a person who enjoys their job; it usually shows. But lately, customer service seems to be a lost art.

So, here are my rules for anyone who cares:
--Make eye contact with the customer.
--Don't chat with fellow employees while dealing with a customer.
--Smile if you can manage it.
--Offer any small service available or just make idle boring chit chat so I think you notice me (do you need help loading this? would you like a plastic sheet? did you find everything you needed? how is your day going?)
--Use polite phrases, such as "thank you".

And I thank you for indulging my blog-o-complaints today. More to follow, I suspect, as I am now heading to the post office, dry cleaner, supermarket, building supply store and, you guessed it, The Home Depot garden center.

Baffled Again

Farrah Fawcett died yesterday. It would have been bigger news but that Michael Jackson died as well. My reaction to the Jackson death was pretty nill. My reaction to Fawcett's death was that I felt kind of old. Then I forgot both and went on with my life. I was reminded of the deaths later while shopping for dinner. People in the produce department were discussing it. The 1200 people in line for supermarket Starbuck's were discussing it. And finally, the people in the check-out lines were talking about it.
"So, did Ryan and Farrah ever marry again?" the suit & tie man in front of me asked the check-out guy.
"I don't know but I know she said yes," the guy answered.
For real? You people know this stuff?
Then the checker in the next stall yelped, in response to something, "Oh my God, really? Michael Jackson is dead? That's HORRIBLE!"
I just don't get it--were you two close friends? When it was my turn to pay for my food, I was asked how I felt about it all.
"Ummm . . . I didn't know any of them" I said.
My checkers response: "You know who Michael Jackson was, don't you?"
Geez.
"Yes. But I didn't know him."
His face went blank. Then the other checker, from the next stall--seemingly over her grief stage--chimed in with, "Did they ever find out if David Carradine was murdered?"
I couldn't resist: "Yes, he murdered himself."
"Well, there were some weird circumstances," my checker said. "We may never know for sure." Yep, we need to send the FBI in for that one.

Common Courtesy Not So Common

Short trip into a department store this afternoon where a young boy--maybe twelve years old--stood, sizing me up. Up and down. When I smiled and spoke he ran away but continued to turn and stare. Then I heard him say to a man, no more than 15 feet from me, "Dad, there's a lady over there that I'm as tall as!" Instead of shushing the child, the father did a full-body turn so he, too, could see me in all my four foot, eleven-ness. Without turning to make eye contact, I said, "You know, I can hear you." And they both disappeared.
But my story doesn't end there. As I left the department store, I stopped at the mall's large outdoor Koi pond to watch the fish. Across the pond, about a half dozen kids were poking the fish with sticks and then I saw one of them throw in a fish that he'd apparently picked up; the fish floated to the top and was clearly struggling to swim again. Seems it's tail had been ripped. So bright kid leaned down to pick up the fish AGAIN when an older woman standing next to him, a stranger, told him not to touch it. Meanwhile, bright kid's mother was sitting behind him on her cell phone, unconcerned. Today, I was reminded that not everyone is cut out for parenthood.