My wife purchased a humidifier from our local Wal-Mart look-alike yesterday. The El Cheapo version was somewhere around nine dollars (180 pesos), so that's the one we got. The relative humidity has been around 30% lately and we've been waking up with stuffiness and difficulty breathing. I dutifully read the instruction manual and obeyed all the rules, overruling an inner desire to drop a dollop of Vaporub in the water. The little plastic tab forming part of the locking mechanism was broken and wouldn't be remedied with Super-Glue, so I improvised and got the unit working....until five a.m.
At five this morning, the humidifier began to light up like some kind of disco inside. Sparks and bursts of light would have been rather exciting were it not for the stench of burning electrical components. I hurriedly disconnected the Chinese piece of junk and started mentally preparing myself for the return process.
Movements of that complexity are a major undertaking in this country. A return of merchandise requires unfathomable retail skill and post-doctoral work in interrogation and discernment. Or so one would think. I was greeted suspiciously by the young lady at the customer service desk as if this might possibly be the day and I might possibly be the one to effectively and permanently terminate the prosperous retail enterprise of Soriana.
It only went from bad to worse from there. Miss Suspicion called for Miss Pharmacy Department whom we will hereafter call Miss Recently Acquired Technical Expertise. Miss RATE should be demoted to Miss Cut-rate. She approached me cautiously and listened to my short version of the events of last night. She then proceeded to open the box and examine the equipment. Then, much to my surprise, she began to studiously read the Instruction Manual. She plodded through two pages before I said, "Are you going to read the WHOLE manual?" "No," she replied, "but I have to know if you gave the product improper use." Miss Suspicion later asked me what the machine was supposed to do. I suspect that Miss RATE didn't know either. By now, we've attracted the attention of Miss Security Guard and I'm getting frustrated. "I'll have to plug it up and see if it's really damaged," was her next poor choice of words. I said, "What are we arguing about here? You'll have to sit and watch this thing for five hours before it starts to run out of water and I don't have that much time. I've got the receipt. We bought this yesterday. Let me exchange it!" "I'll go talk to the manager." Groan.
Ten minutes later, she comes back and authorizes Miss Suspicion to make the exchange. During the break, Miss Security Guard saunters over and wants to see the receipt and I almost snapped. "What do you have to do with this?" I wanted to ask, but didn't. She looked at the receipt and told Miss Suspicion, "They just bought it yesterday. He's not going to take it back home with him. Just exchange it for him." Miss Suspicion mumbled something about Miss RATE already talking to a manager about it.
Needless to say, when I walked out of there I was wondering how difficult it would be to just shop at the other Wal-Mark look-alike on the other side of town. Something like, "And if you want to be a First World business, you should start by not treating your customers like criminals when they walk in the door."
My day was interesting to say the least.