I Will NEVER Shop Here Again!

by jayferris
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February 01, 2009
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Despite their best efforts to rob unknowing consumers blind with a smile on their face, every so often a store breaks cover and does something to lose your business -- forever. We've all been there, exiting from some retail establishment or restaurant, our wallets and/or good sensibilities violated as if they had just been featured in an Oliver Stone prison film, issuing a declaration which echos off the walls of history -- "I will NEVER come back to this place again." So dear Guidetrippers, please use this guide to share which place(s) shouldn't be expecting your business ever again. What exactly happened? Rude employee? Shitty product? Socially irresponsible? Who knows; maybe you'll endear others to your cause, striking another blow to those that messed with the wrong person.

Radio Shack

I grew up in a small Texas town, and Radio Shack was pretty much all we had in the way of an electronics store. Needless to say, my inherent geekiness had me gravitating to this establishment out of necessity to quench a thirst for gadget porn — much in the same way I’d rub one off to the “delicates” section of the JC Penney catalog because, hey, that was all I had.

It wasn’t until I moved to the Northwest that one douchebag manager ruined my relationship with a company that probably never even deserved my patronage in the first place. All I wanted was a cheap pair of headphones to strip down for an art project, and this power hungry high school dropout had the nerve to refuse to sell them to me after learning what my plans were. According to him, as manager he had the right to refuse service to anyone. After reminding that this wasn’t some Mom and Pop store that could enforce their own policies on anyone as secret cover for not wanting to sell to minorities, his nerved pushed on further to accuse me of becoming “confrontational” and that he was going to call the police. Really?

I was stunned, but recognized the losing fight against stupidity I was up against, took the high road and left it at that. Right after I knocked over a rotating display stand that was full of batteries.

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Kinkos

Back in the day, before FedEx was even a part of Kinko’s and printing stuff was still cool, Kinko’s was my port-of-call for all things xerographic.

My last trip to Kinkos was a poignant one. I was there to assemble the pieces of a prank on my brother, whereby I had pasted cutouts of his head onto a series of gay porn pictures. Apparently this use of their machines is frowned upon by members of the management team, and the act of printing a large banner with one guy packing the fudge of his doppleganger is an especially harsh crime. So technically I was kicked out of Kinko’s and told never to return. Still, I could have easily visited any number of other Kinko’s since then, but have chosen not to on principle alone. We are talking about my freedom of expression after all.

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Pizza In Paradise

1050 Sw Baseline St Ste C2, Hillsboro, OR 97123

Several years ago when I moved to Hillsboro, a town outside of Portland, OR, fate sent me a message. My wife and I had decided to order pizza, but didn’t know what places were closeby that might offer something above and beyond the usual Pizza Hut and Domino’s fare. Then, like a beacon of hope, I came home to find a flyer for Pizza in Paradise on my door. This was obviously meant to be.

The service was friendly and the delivery prompt, so things started out grand. All that remained was to see if the food was on par with their business acumen. Turns out it wasn’t bad at all. Not the best I’ve ever had, but better than other options out there.

As I was getting into my 2nd piece, something weird happened. A sausage broke free as I pulled the slice away from my mouth; I prepared to catch it, but instead of falling, it swung forward and was dangling from my mouth. However, it wasn’t stringy cheese that allowed this little ball of meat to repel down my chin — it was a blond hair, about two inches long.

Of course I freaked out, but eventually settled down. I have, after all, voluntarily eaten some pretty nasty things in my life. Nonetheless, I put down the pizza and moved on to the second part of my order, fettuccine alfredo. Warm, creamy, cheesy goodness was mine for the taking. I was in pasta heaven, until I identified something not so pasta-like with my tongue. I pushed it to the front of my mouth, grabbed hold and pulled. Out came a SECOND HAIR, this one 3-4 times longer than the first.

At this point I was officially mortified. I called them up and started going off, asking if they knew what a hairnet was and whether or not it had been Sasquatch who made my dinner. They offered me replacement food, to which I expressed concern over what would be shed into my meal this time. I requested a refund, which they denied, despite my offer of returning the uneaten food along with the hairs for DNA testing.

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Met Food

I think Met is a grocery chain exclusive to New York, but I’m officially done with it because I was officially grossed out by it beyond belief. No, not the food, but the produce and meat did leave something to be desired. Nooooo, it was the dudes who worked there, one in particular. Is it too much to ask to NOT be mentally undressed/raped every time I do my shopping? EVERY TIME? Must you mumble things under your breath when I’m holding hands with a BOY?

It got to the point that I made phone calls every time I was approaching Met and during my shopping just to lessen the grossed-out-ness. Ick.

added by aliciak 02/01/2009

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About The Author

jayferris

Shoreline

I'm a writer, father, husband, geek, and local hooligan. As much as I appreciate constructive criticism, getting a second opinion just seems way easier.