Just Don't Get Mad

Everyone complains.  It feels good to say it out-loud, even if you know nothing is going to change.  But what if you were unexpectedly given an opportunity to eliminate the source of those complaints for the person you love most?  Would there be any amount of money you would be unwilling to pay?  Such was my lot at the Fashion Place Mall one blustery November afternoon a few weeks ago.

I should have been content to walk right out the front door after a successful shopping spree for Janeen's Christmas gift.  I even had to turn around after passing the kiosk because a voice inside my head said, "they must be selling hair care products, I wonder..."  Could this possibly be the solution to Janeen's insatiable source of woe?  Unsolicited, I approached the exotic Mediterranean sales representative.  "What are you selling?" I inquired.  Natalie, I later learned her name, was shocked at my boldness and curiosity toward her product.  She immediately began demonstrating her lifetime-guaranteed-one-hundred-percent-ceramic-all-natural-life-changing-volume-enhancing-curling-iron.  This was it!  Janeen would no longer complain about her hair!  I could solve all her problems for years to come.

I hadn't even heard the price, and I was sold.  Besides, how much could it be: $50 maybe $100 max?  Certainly nothing prepared me for the $550 price tag.  After picking my jaw off the floor the brain in my arm removed the Discover Card from my wallet, while the brain in my head reeled in shock and disbelief.  But before you judge me, remember my first comment: there is no amount of money that would stop me from solving my love's greatest problem.

Needless to say, I knew I made a mistake.  A purchase of great disproportion!  I took Janeen with me to the mall a week or so later to return the "item" (so termed because I had yet mustered the courage to reveal the nature and cost of the would-be gift to Janeen).  I conveniently left her in the food court while I approached the kiosk receipt in hand.  After expressing my intent to return the item I was immediately told there was a "no return policy," but that they would be willing to exchange it for another item.  I politely declined the offer, and ignoring the previous comment, once again stated my desire to acquire a full refund.  It was then that the "truth was revealed" as the sales associate lifted up my receipt to display a seperate sheet of paper stapled behind my original receipt where stamped in red ink were the small words, "No refunds.  All sales final."  Surely this was a scam, and my sense of congeniality was now gone.  I demanded a refund!  

I was handed a white iPhone 4S encased in sparkling pink plastic; the screen displaying an image familiar, yet not so exotic, woman.  Above the image her characters reminiscent of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics obviously indicating in a foreign language the name of the person I was about to address.  I only remember two things she said, "I'm sorry there are no refunds," and "If I bought a pair of boots you couldn't return them."  Both statements seemed too ridiculous to me that I countered with a few ridiculous statements of my own, such as,

"You are being unreasonable."
"Your company is completely unprofessional."
"I demand the name and address of your company."
"I'm going to report you to the Better Business Bureau."
"I'm going to sue you!"
"I'm going to call my lawyer!! (I don't even have a lawyer)."
"I'M CALLING MALL SECURITY, THE MINUTE I HANG UP THIS PHONE!!!"

By this time my temper was fully aroused!  My stature grew two feet in under a minute.  My voice was booming as if an intercom were projecting it throughout the entire concourse.  Before I could draw my own cell phone to call the cops the person who had handed me the phone  shouted, "I'll refund your money, JUST DON'T GET MAD!"

By this time Janeen had found me.  She arrived with a happy smile on her face, blissfully unaware of the battle that had ensured and the war averted.  "Is everything alright?" she asked sensing the concerned look on my face.  "Yes, everything is fine now."

Later, in the car I confessed my sins.  I told her of the near non-refund policy, and my determination to see justice done  "How much was this thing you bought?" she asked.

"I'm too embarrassed to tell you," I said.

"Was it more than $50?"

"A lot."

"More than $100??"

"I can't say."

"Wow, really?  Surely it couldn't be more than $150?"

"$550"

"Holy crap!!!!"