Ruminating On: Walmart (Part 2)

Some of you will remember my last Walmart post, but for those of you who do not, you can find Part 1 HERE.

 

Complaints were made last time, and it seems the store has gotten even worse. I'm talking about Walmart store number 00483, the one located in Prattville, Alabama. I'm only blogging about this to try and bring attention to a problem that is apparently unsolvable. 

 

Walmart's complaint system sends complaints back to the store. But what happens when the management in the store is horrible? For instance:

 

Today, I took my mother on her monthly outing to Walmart. She's disabled and she needs a motorized cart to get around. I go with her because she needs help reaching stuff high up on shelves and we know the employees at this particular Walmart are unhelpful. The only reason she still goes to this one is because her dogs like Old Roy treats and, yes, my mother is stubborn in her old age. Instead of finding a treat alternative or going to a different Walmart, she says, "I shouldn't have to go somewhere else for the stuff I need. They need to fix this one." I agree. She's absolutely right. But Walmart's complaint system is broken. There is no way to go over management's head to some like a district manager. Who knows, maybe even the district manager here is a jerk like the rest of his subordinates.

 

Anyway, back to today.  A CSM (Customer Service Manager) name Skertia, was standing in the middle of an aisle gossiping about other employees with the cashier who was ringing up my mother's items. My mother said, "Excuse me," because she needed to get by. Skertia kept right on talking. My mother repeated herself. Once again, nothing. I raised my voice and said, "Excuse me. Can we get by, please?"

 

This woman gave me a look like I'd stoned her baby and said, "That's all you had to say." Like what? I needed to say "Excuse me, please" instead of just "Excuse me"? Was that my unforgivable faux pas? But at least this time she stepped out of the way. When she did, my mother rolled by and headed for the exit where she planned to wait for me while I completed checking out.

 

Once my mother (a 69 year old woman in a motorized cart) was gone, Skertia thought it would be a good idea to start complaining about Mom to the cashier. "Oh, people give me a headache. Like she couldn't get around me." Actually, Mom couldn't get around Skertia, because the carts at our local Walmart are roughly the size of grizzly bears and Skertia had (how can I say this and remain respectful?) a rather rotund rear end. 

 

I should have left it alone. I should have kept my mouth shut and taken the bullshit coming out of this woman's mouth like shit through a goose, but I'm protective of my mother, so I said, "Then maybe you need to go home and not deal with customers today."

 

Skertia smiled for the first time and said, "Maybe I should. You'd like that, huh?"

 

Oh boy. 

 

To keep from causing a scene, I left. I could have retorted, but it would have been pointless. These people are already making shitty money working for a shit employer in the even shittier southern United States. Their give-a-fuck is nonexistent, and anyone who assumes they have a fuck left to give is informed otherwise posthaste.

 

To wrap up this shitstorm, I called the store on the way home and asked for the complaint line. The lady who answered the phone said they didn't have a complaint line, but they could put me through to a manager. I was put on hold. Trisha, who identifies as a manager, came on the line and asked me what was wrong. I relayed my story to her, and she kept says, "Mmm-hmm" like a parent listening to a child whom they know is lying. Every time I paused for breath, Trisha would make that noise, "Mmm-hmm," so I finally told her I would go home and find the complaint line or fill out an online complaint form. 

 

Then Trisha told me the truth of the matter. "It doesn't matter where you complain. It all comes back to us."

 

Right. So fuck me and the horse I rode in on. Gotcha. 

 

This system is broken. And you know what? It doesn't matter. Because my mother will continue to shop Walmart and so will millions of others. But I don't lose easily. So every time this happens, I will blog about it. I will complain. I will tell everyone I know that Target is worth the few extra pennies on the dollar because their employees are actually happy people. I will direct people to Winn Dixie or Food Outlet for their shopping because, honestly, Walmart is not the cheapest place in town. And I will try and talk my mother into ordering her dog treats online. That's all I can do. 

 

Because you can't fix what management doesn't think is broken.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

E.