A call to remove COMP-USA from every logical buyer’s list of places to shop
Normally, I’d like to think of myself as a reasonable person. I don’t drive too fast. I understand that “fair” doesn’t just refer to the annual event in Dallas. Yada yada and yada. However, my experience with COMP-USA today has left me wondering how such a corporation can survive except by preying on the weak, weak-minded, or weak-willed.
My rationale for going into the store was that today was the release day for the sequel to “that rolling ball game”: We Love Katamari hit the shelves today. I checked some local stores, and the closest Best Buys and Circuit Cities were sold out of the game. COMP-USA had it for $1 more, but to save me the trouble of driving 30 extra minutes to find the game, I would gladly pay the extra buck. So I go over there. I walk in the door, and the lady at the customer service desk greets me. I walk past a knot of three sales associates. One of them greets me. I head over to the PS-2 games area. It’s a disorganized mess. The games are in haphazard, seemingly random order. There are empty spaces in the mix, indicating that someone must have had a plan for them. I don’t see the game anywhere, so I walk over to the cashier who is standing behind his register, looking a little bit lost in a fog. I ask him for some help and he replies that his computer is down, so there’s no way he could search for it, but he’ll call someone to come help.
First off, if he’s working AT A REGISTER where THE COMPUTER DOESN’T WORK at a COMPUTER RETAILER, don’t you think his first priority instead of standing there solipsizing for days of long ago would be to get someone there to FIX THE MACHINE THAT GENERATES REVENUE FOR THE COMPANY?
He calls someone, and a rather young gentleman, much, much younger than myself (but not one of the three associates who were holding court in the center of the store previously (and have since disappeared, scared off by the possibility of actual interaction with a customer)) comes up and asks me if I need help. I inquire about the game. He asks me to repeat the name, then he goes off somewhere. I look at some other stuff, and a few minutes later he comes back and tells me that “the computer says it’s sold out and we don’t have any.” I ask him where it would be in the aisle, and he says “well, if we had it, it would be in this aisle somewhere.” I then ask why it isn’t organized. He replies that yeah, they could organize it, but then every time a new game came in, they’d have to reorganize it again.
What a novel thought. Working at your place of employment, even if it is somewhat pointless and fruitless and will have to be done again and again. There are some jobs in the world where the tasks are Sisyphean by design — the streets will start getting dirty the second after the sweeper passes by, and the trash truck comes every week. But that doesn’t mean the work doesn’t need to be done, and the fact that it isn’t your store doesn’t mean you can’t propose it or do it yourself. Initiative is a good thing.
Even organize the blasted games by genre, for crying out loud. But alas, all good ideas fall victim to the dreaded Not My Job.
In contrast, I took the extra time and drove to a Best Buy that was reported as having copies on the web. I was approached within 30 seconds of being in the aisle. The sales clerk looked it up on the computer and said they didn’t show anything. I asked him to please check again under the title of the game. He checks, and 8 copies magically appear in their inventory. He apologizes for not checking that way first, goes off to the back of the store, and five minutes later, I have my game at the slightly cheaper price. w00t.
If we don’t support the beast, it will eventually wither away.
Mom’s doing much better, by the way. She gets an extra day in the hospital since her blood pressure is still low. Grandma and Francis are going on their trip to Phoenix for Cousin Andy’s wedding. I still need to send a gift…
