Buying snowboots in California, and missing NJ just a little

This afternoon, Dash and I picked up Petunia from school.  After they spent their usual 45 minutes chasing their friends (brothers in 3rd and 1st grades) in circles around the redwood trees, I informed them that we were going out to buy snowboots.

They stopped in their tracks.

"Do they even have snowboots in California?" Petunia asked.

"I called this store called Big 5, and they claim to have boots in both of your sizes," I replied.  And so we went, but I had a stomach full of knots.  I'm a big Dick's Sporting Goods fan, but the nearest one was in Denver.  And while I usually embrace change, I do not like to shop for "stuff" that is not in book form.  That's right: I do not like to shop.  Especially for shoes.  Especially with children.  I took two Motrin figuring that this errand would involve a great amount of suffering and crushed fingers and probably crying from all involved.

Surprisingly, the errand went pretty well .  They had exactly one pair and style in Petunia's size, and exactly one pair and style in Dash's size.  Both fit well enough -- after all, they're for playing in the Vermont snow pictured above, not for summiting K2 -- and so we went to the cash register, where I presented the boots and a "10% off total purchase" coupon that I printed on-line.  (If I have to shop, I want a deal out of it!)  And that's where our troubles began.

The boots were $24.99 and $29.99 respectively.  When I received my receipt to sign, it was clear that the coupon was unused, an error I pointed out to the clerk.

"I entered it," she said.

"Apparently the entry didn't take," I replied, still smiling.

"Well, I'm sorry," she said.  Period.  Sorry.  Not, "let me try that again."  Not, "let's re-ring it."  Just "sorry."  After a few awkward moments of silence -- and with a line mounting at this point, I still hadn't moved.

"M'am?" she asked.

"I don't think you understood me.  I expect my coupon to be applied to this purchase," I stated.  "As in, I've been overcharged by about $5.50, and I would like for that to be refunded."

"I'm sorry, what are you asking me to do about this?" the nitwit asked again.  "I can't make it work.  And how do you know it didn't?"

And then, I lost my cool a bit.  "Let me give you a math lesson, honey," I said tersely.  "$24.99 plus $29.99 equals $54.98.  What's 10% of that?  Why, it's $5.49!  That's the amount by which you overcharged me by failing to enter the coupon I presented.  I brought that point up before you ran my credit card anyway.  I will NOT sign this receipt.  I EXPECT for my coupon to be used!"

She stared blankly at me.

"Would you please call a manager?" I asked, trying to plug my ears so that the steam didn't come pouring out.

She called the manager over, and she basically said, "This woman claims her coupon didn't work."  So, I explained the situation again.  After I finished illustrating the problem, this misguided clerk found it necessary to add, "It's only five bucks."  In. Front. Of. Her. Manager.

"Take a break," he told her...

... and realizing that my children were still standing next to me, I grabbed my head to keep it from exploding.  The manager silently helped me complete my transaction properly.  He said, "Thank you, and have a nice day."  And I left.

I will not shop at that Big 5 store again, both because it pretty much sucked (small, dirty, no selection) and because apparently it staffs up with incompetent employees.  In this economy, they could -- and should -- do much better.  I only regret that I didn't take the time to explain to that very misguided girl that $5 actually does matter -- to my family, to her family, to the homeless guy down the street who could buy food for a week with that money. 

Meanwhile, yesterday, a friend asked me if I miss NJ at all.  "Surprisingly, no," I told her at the time.  "I miss some of my friends, especially my former neighbor and another friend I made through Dash's preschool last year, but I'll see them again... but the place?  I don't really miss it."

I take it back.  I do miss the place.  I miss Dick's, which met all of my sporting goods needs.  Dick's would've had a ski/sled helmet in Dash's size.  Dick's would've had a better snowboot selection.  Dick's would've entered my coupon right.  I also miss DSW, my one-stop shop for my own shoes (because of all the shopping that I loathe, shoe shopping tops the list!), and I miss Sumo Susho, and Masala Grill, and Vito's Pizza, and... a lot.  A lot of places.  The train ride to New York.  My God, the Rockettes!  Maybe it's the season.  I miss my familiar stuff, and I'm feeling a little lost here again, all of the sudden.

As for my $5.49, I'm dropping it in the first Salvation Army bellringer's bucket that I see. I just read on-line that a Salvation Army in North Carolina has 500 more families to provide for before the holidays, and they're out of supplies.  Five bucks will matter to them, and, to prove that it matters to me, I'll give up five bucks of take-out this week.