First you get hit with big charges that are only hinted at prior to the “procedure.” Then all that mystifying paper work arrives—endlessly—and formatted like a maze (don’t they know we’re ill?) with everything in code (why can’t they just say what it’s about?). And all the repetition. This is a bill. This is not a bill. Here’s your summary (again). It’s the most painful part of being sick.

But here’s the most absurd thing: when your doctor works for one hospital and you want to visit the other, the doctor’s office will not make the arrangements for you. You have to do it yourself because they’re in competition. Are they crazy?

If health care is the reform we need, then this is a good place to start—by really taking care of us when we need it, regardless of the turf war. Let’s hope one day they (who are they anyway?) see the light and learn to collaborate for their mutual benefit and our medical welfare.

Yes, business is about profit. But when it’s about only profit, and profit at the full expense of at least some goodness, it’s a bad sign. •

If you’re gonna do one thing right, then at least do coffee right. Put a little more in the darn filter each time. Pay a little—just a little—more for some decent beans. And, please, enough of those thick mugs I can barely get my old lips around. I know they have to go through your dishwasher a zillion times, but how about something with nicer colors instead of the usual beige, brown, black, and muddy red?

Your coffee should be the centerpiece. The thing we talk about whenever your place is mentioned. “Oh, yeah, let’s go there. They have great coffee.” It’s the thing that brings us back even when the food, service, and ambience don’t.

And if your coffee is pretty good, don’t go charging overmuch for it. Cause that’s a turnoff, too.

How hard is all this to understand?

But my bigger concern is those itty-biddy packages of catsup (and how come the mayonnaise packs are bigger?).

First, you gotta open each little pack, hoping you tear a wide enough slice to squeeze enough out—and without spitting it all over the place. And it takes about 10 packs if you really like to slop your fries in catsup the way me and Goodie do.

And if that weren’t bad enough, there’s no place to put the darn catsup. So you have to dump it on a napkin, or on the foil wrap of your burger, or into your chicken-fingers box (and that’s no fun, let me tell you). In other words, you gotta invent a holder for yourself. Then you gotta stare at all those empty, crumpled up catsup packs while you eat lunch. Not what I call a delightful dining ‘experience’ if you know what I mean. (Truth is, though, I’m not sure it’s any worse than those other joints that ‘let’ you pump catsup from a dispenser into teeny-tiny paper cups—you need 10 of those, too.)

But here’s the other thing. There’s no way anybody can get all the catsup out of those little packs. On average I figure there’s anywhere from 5 to 10 percent left in each one. Ever wonder why our landfills are so soggy? Well, that’s one darn good reason I can think of. Next time somebody asks you: “What’s up with these landfills?” just say, “The catsup.”

Oh, and those funny ads? They should really say, “Eat mor chikin… and bring yor own katchip and yor own katchip holda.”

My darling Goodie, poor thing, would have written this cause he’s the one it happened to. But he’s still vibrating on the couch with frustration, indignation, and a foaming mouth. I’m lookin at him now as he tries to recover by gulping potato chips, swilling beer, and watching 14 football games at once.

Anyway, here’s the sad story:

A fine example of clear communication

We’ve been needin a new icebox, so Goodie went to old reliable Sears’ web site, found just the fridge we wanted, was delighted to see that shipping was free, and went about ordering online (fun isn’t it?). BUT, just to be sure, he called the store, explained what he was doing, and asked for confirmation: “The shipping is free, right?”

“Well, Mr. Goodwin, sort of. You have to pay the $70 shipping charge up front because, you see, we use third-party delivery services and they have to be paid, and…. So, Mr. Goodwin, what you do is you send in a rebate after purchase and Sears will send you a credit card worth a value of $70, and there you are.”

“But that’s not really ‘free shipping’,” says my Goodie. “The web site is misleading, and it’s very unpleasant to be told one thing when it really means another very different thing.”

“Yes, sir. It is a little confusing.”

Well, Goodie was confused and aggravated enough not to buy from them. And like any discriminating purchaser, he turned to other vendors. “Let’s try Best Buy,” he said. “They don’t mess with you like that.” And off he went to the Best Buy web site where he found another nice unit at just the right price, ad guess what else? That’s right: a 2-day special discount with free shipping for items over $399. Manno!

The devil is in those “Details”

BUT, just to be sure, Goodie drives to the actual store, asks about the unit which they (the store) had told him over the phone they had in stock. Ah, but it seems it was (surprise!) a computer error. Not in stock after all. But the good news was that, “Mr. Goodwin, if you order it online, you’ll get the free shipping.”

That’s still a good deal, right?

Not so fast.

Because when dear Goodie got home and went online and started ordering, he didn’t see no nothing about free shipping. So he called the store and asked about that.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Goodwin, when you get near the end of the purchasing process, the free shipping will kick in. You’ll see it.”

Never happened. So, right before he’s about to click that awful “submit” button (they gotta find a better name than ‘submit’, don’t you think?), he calls back just to double-check.

“Well, Mr. Goodwin, your item must not be on the list of “selected items” that are eligible for the free shipping discount.”

Indeed, after a lot of harangue and checking, turns out that our dear selection didn’t qualify under the terms of their big, front-page FREE SHIPPING banner (the tricky “see details” part which, by the way, was never mentioned by either the salesperson in the store or the customer rep on the phone—with whom Goodie spoke 3 times).

What on God’s green earth is going on with all this, please tell me? Here’s a store selling good stuff we want to buy and pay good money for—that “submit” button was about to yield them $1,000—yet they are jerking us around. The worst part is that there’s no good reason for them to do it. It only makes things worse.

indeed

So what did we do? We ordered the darn thing from Home Depot which is delivering it in 3 days with, yes, free shipping—no questions asked, no tricks attached, no boondoggling whatsoever.

Too bad that some people actually admire the gall of Sears whose logo says, “Life. Well spent.” But it’s certainly not money—or time—well spent, I can tell you.

You gotta love the exclamation point

And Best Buy, whose slogan says, “Buy with confidence.” The confidence that the ‘deals’ are never what they seem is all I can gather from that.

Wanna know why we’re still scraping the bottom of the economy? Cause too many companies are still lying to, cheating, and blatantly misleading their customers—their former customers. •

Well, I finally figured it out; finally saw through the scheme. It’s their way of recycling. Sure, under the guise of reducing prices, give all those boxes to your customers—who you don’t give bags to even though they pay membership fees—and let them throw them away.

I’m gonna have to check on this, but I bet there are none of those big metal garbage bins behind the club either, cause they don’t have any trash. We take it all home. •

So, is it just me, or am I the only one wondering where the millions (billions?) generated by the educational lottery has gone? Certainly not into the schools. I mean, whose education, or what kind of education, exactly are they talking about?

Please, someone—not Goodie—tell me if I’m wrong about this.

Or $6 a glass—and usually a suspiciously small ‘glass’. Ever notice how they pour just a little less than what looks fair to you?

Well, we learned how to beat that system. Yessir, as my friend Bonnie taught me, here’s what you do. Ask for a taste first. Then a taste of another one. Then order a glass. By the time you’re done you got a legitimate full ‘glass’ for your money.

Of course, it usually works only for the first round of drinks, maybe the second. After that you gotta get inventive. Or start playing bridge at home.

I sort of understand the person who checks my card when I enter Costco. After all, it’s a club. Before you step into the big barn (ever notice that smell in there?) they have to be sure it’s you. Never mind that I always use my sister’s card.

Anyway, what I don’t get is the person who checks as I leave—the cheerful one holding a big magic marker in her hand as she pretends to count all 57 items in my shopping cart. I’m thinking, why doesn’t the club have the cashiers do the counting when they take all your stuff out of the cart and then put it back in?

Besides, you can’t grab much as you pass the carpet displays on your way out. And even if I do have a couple of those quart containers of fish-oil pills in my over-sized purse, there’s no way anyone is getting in there.

We could as easily reverse the acronym to mean Totally Taking Advantage because of how this corporate megalomaniac tricks (yes, tricks) you into extra fees. Whatever it says, and whatever it says the cost will be, you can be sure there will be additional fees—often for services you never (ever) request.

An example: one fine day a shipment arrives from TT(&)A. It’s a beautiful thingamajig for Goodie’s computer. Wonderful. Except that he never ordered it. And terrible because they want $49.95 for it. I call, clarify that he never ordered it, and after about 45 minutes of pleading am sent a return-postage label. Good. Except that one month later we get a letter asking why is it not paid for yet. A new series of haggling phone calls follow with overly polite, extremely inflexible ‘representatives’. I get transferred three times before things are resolved. A morning wasted for something that was never ordered. I end up with a terrible technology headache. You know what that is.

I could go on, but that’s not the point—even though there are tens of thousands of similar stories about this… this company. The real point is that they don’t get it. They don’t realize (how can they possibly not realize by now?) that this is not the way to develop a loyal following of customers and get repeat, much less referral, business. Don’t they realize they’re making the situation worse? Not just because of how they train their representatives, but because of those sneaky tactics. And they claim to be in the communication business. Ha!

What to do? Well, as a ‘representative’ of all people who like telephones, want to pay their bills on time, and despise being jerked around, I’m speaking up here in the hope that this message crests into a wave that eventually crashes onto the shore—the big beach party—where these guys (who are they anyway?) seem to be luxuriating at our expense. Doggone it, enough is enough. •

You can reach Hattie Nuff at hnuff@charlestontoday.net.