Further notes on the decline of customer service

This morning as I prepared for work, I searched in vain for my newish underwear only to discover it is nowhere. It is irksome to lose socks in the dryer, but far more disturbing to lose one's underwear.

Fact: About a month ago, I purchased 4 new pairs of underwear from Victoria's Secret. A month prior to that, I'd purchased 3 initial pairs of the same sort. I liked them so much, I went back for more.

I did laundry last night and then this morning searched my drawers and the clean laundry to no avail. I found 2 total pairs of this "new" underwear. So where the F did the other 5 pairs go?

Perhaps we had a laundry bandit?

Maybe we have a mouse who scurries in an imperceptible hole in the back of my drawers when they are closed and I have no idea. Then scurries back out again and uses these particular pairs of underwear for nesting materials.

Maybe I loaned them to someone and then completely forgot that I'd done something I'd never done before - loaned a garment to a friend that lies close to an orifice and seems improper to loan.

I lay on my yoga mat at lunch time, eyes closed, thinking about underwear of all things. By the time I left class, I was stressed with the frustration of my missing belongings - very personal belongings.

So after work, I decided to drive to the Galleria to purchase more. I opted against the Victoria's secret variety, imagining that perhaps God himself was warning me not to wear them- Protecting me from myself. Perhaps I actually have a terrible allergy to these bunders.

I went to Macy's. There could be a much longer blog about the decline of a department store I used to consider a nice place to shop. But I will simply scratch the surface.

As I entered the first floor, things were in disarray. There was nondescript construction, duct tape on the floors and perhaps even some orange cones. I sped walked, swinging my hips and arms wildly to the escalator. It was broken. I took the still steps two at a time and found my way to lingerie.

The department looked like a bargain basement, bras and underwear were crammed on racks after racks and strewn below them as well. A small crowd of sales associates talked loudly about someone on their team taking vacation. "I need a vacation," one of them said. The continued unaware of their customers, griping about what they deserved and what they don't get.

I judged quietly wondering how they would assess their performance if pressed. Clearly they must be cognizant of the fact that they were doing less than nothing to help the customers they were hired to serve. Does that make them NEED vacation?

I stumbled around looking for the brand Jezebel, which seems to fit nicely. Everything was so disorganized and I was surrounded by gigantic-flesh-colored-must-be nursing bras.

The sales associates were too engaged in their conversation to notice my aimless wandering.

Finally, I found my desired rack. I helped myself to my own dressing room since the Macy's employees seemed to be unaware I was there.

The dressing rooms looked like a war ground. Dozens of tiny, clear, plastic hangers were strewn all over the floors. The dressing rooms were littered with bras and underwear, slips and tank tops. I found the cleanest one - the one without actually rabbit-sized dust bunnies.

I could hear the same employees from the sales floor continuing their rant.

I tried on my things and exited to pay.

When I returned, the associates had dispersed. After 30 minutes in the store, not a single Macy's employee had spoken to me, or even acknowledged my presence.

I waited at the counter alone.

After about 2 minutes, an employee from housewares asked me if I was being helped and shouted across the department for Tina, one of the gripers. I heard her shout back at him, "What? You need help with one of YOUR customers?" I did not like her tone. The housewares man looked unfazed.

Tina helped me with my purchase in the loosest sense of the word. All around her register there was promotional signage about upcoming sales and store events.
She did not mention a one of them.

The only thing she did say to me was my total.

I handed her my card. She ran it. I wished her a good evening. She said simply, "Next."

I remember shopping with my mom at Macy's when I was a child and feeling it was a nice department store. At Christmas, there were strings of tiny white lights- stories tall and gigantic shiny ornaments dangling from the ceiling in the atrium near the escalators. A pianist in a tuxedo tinkled the keys of a baby grand for all of the bustling shoppers to enjoy.

Every year, Macy's was not only our shopping destination but the go to location for breakfast with Santa. Shopping there was an occasion.

Holiday or not, Macy's is devoid of elegance now. The customer comes last. The care and service, specialness and occasion of shopping there is long gone.

Where did it go? I am not sure . But at least I have my underwear...for now.