i hate matthew at the eagan old navy

Here it is the first day of NaBloPoMo(Lmnsosalkja – it’s just a lot of letters!) and I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to write about. But since I ventured into public today, that ended up not being a problem.

Riley had an appointment today to get some scheduled vaccinations. When I got there, they reminded me that he was due for a comprehensive exam and asked if the could do it then and there. I wasn’t going to turn it down, since it’s one less trip I have to make to the doctor, so I went ahead and let the doc do her thing. And me? I decided to go shopping.

I wound up at the Old Navy in Eagan, MN (address is 1263 Promenade Place, in case you wanted to know which one it was). I can always use some new t-shirts and I wanted to see if I could find something awesome to start The Boy’s Christmas gift gathering.

As I was browsing through different things, the first thing I noticed was that Old Navy clothes have really turned to crap. I can’t wear any of the lady clothes there, because they won’t fit over my magically grown breastseses. I opt for the Dude Section, where I can usually find some awesome sweaters, or solid color shirts to wear under work suits, or even some t-shirts that make me happy. I ended up finding an adorable thermal for The Boy (can it be adorable if it’s from the men’s section?) and a t-shirt for myself and then I headed to the checkout lanes.

Or I should say lane, because there was only one open. Never mind the at least 12 people that were waiting to pay for their cheap, half-trendy clothing. They eventually opened up another checkout lane, and that was enough to distract me for a second to find a $1 t-shirt for The Boy, and then I got back in line.

There was an older lady paying for her items – and by older, I mean old enough to be my grandma. She wanted to write a check. The nice old lady didn’t seem like the type that regularly shops at Old Navy, so she was a little taken aback by what happens if you write a check there. (FYI: They scan it into their fancy cash register, it automatically debits it from your checking account, they give you the check back, and then you have to sign something.) This isn’t really something a 75 year old grandma lady is going to know about and quite possibly not even understand.

But Matthew the Cash Register Monkey, who also happened to be the most gigantic red-headed douche bag I’ve ever ran across, had apparently missed that whole part of the job description that talks about providing awesome customer service, even to old grandma ladies. Holy cow, was he a gigantic asshole to this lady. She was never rude or cross with him; she just simply didn’t understand the process. And instead of taking two minutes to explain it to her, Matthew the Cash Register Monkey just kept repeating: “I’m not in charge of making these decisions”. He said it at least six times. Which is just about the number of times I felt like kicking him square in the niblets.

By the time I got up to pay for my three items, Riley’s doctor had called to let me know everything was awesome and he was ready to be picked up. Matthew the Cash Register Monkey rang up my purchases (ringing one up wrong, I might add) and in the midst of my transaction, looks over at another Cash Register Monkey and says to her, “Did you hear the way that old lady was talking to me? She just kept berating me over and over like I was doing something wrong!” And then, because I guess I look like the kind of person that enjoys seeing pricks in their early 20s treat elderly people like shit, Matthew the Cash Register Monkey gives me a chuckle like we’d just made some common bond.

I gave him the best “I hope your penis falls off right now” look, and as he handed me my receipt, I showed my appreciation by saying “Thanks a lot, dick” while walking out. And still on the phone with Riley’s doctor, I might add. Passive-aggressive? Probably. But it’s the best I could do right then and there.

Every time I’ve ever been to this Old Navy, there’s always been the world’s worst customer service and I don’t know why I continue to go back. I’ve never been treated as though I’m a paying customer, but more as a giant walking turd that just happened to want a $10 t-shirt to cover up my giant walking turd body.

I’m never going there again and will probably write a strongly worded letter that will contain a good part of this post… possibly not the turd part, though.

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