- We bought a widescreen TV from them two years ago. We’ve had problems with it ever since. It has a weird magnetized color spot on one side that we can’t get rid of, and recently the black bars on the side (when watching normal TV) have started going all wavy and screwy. All out of warranty, of course.
- Last winter I bought a coat there and they forgot to take the security tag off, which meant I had to make an extra trip back – in the cold! – before I could wear it.
- They were completely unhelpful during my marathon search for glass marbles last year, despite the fact that they use them all throughout their poncy furniture areas.
- In October I headed to the lingerie department because I needed a push-up bra for my Halloween costume. They didn’t have a single one that would fit me. The staff – all of whom were over 60 – were completely unsympathetic to my plight. At one point, they even tried persuading me to purchase a bra two sizes too small that I could only wear with the aid of this weird extender thing.
- Last week I hit the shoe department because I needed sensible black dress shoes to wear to a wedding and everywhere else only had three-inch heels. I eventually found what I needed but the experience sucked. If I’m paying triple-digits for a pair of shoes, I want some damn service. I shouldn’t have to wander back and forth trying to get a salesperson’s attention. I even had to specially request a pair of try-on socks (which were handed over quite grudgingly). I had to keep chasing down the salesperson to get the sizes I needed. She was a transvestite who, once it became obvious that I was not going to purchase the $300 extremely pointy fancy shoes she recommended, preferred to stand in the corner and sing ABBA’s “Chiquitita” over and over to herself. Seriously.
- Against my better judgment, after the shoe debacle I headed back up to lingerie for a strapless bra. I’ve never bought one before and the options were bewildering. Did I get any assistance from the Blue Hair Brigade? Nope. Granted, it was fifteen minutes before closing, but it’s not like there were any other customers hanging around. Eventually I grabbed one in desperation and headed to the dressing room. It soon became evident that it wasn’t going to work. I heard the girl in the next booth talking to a salewoman who sounded sorta nice. As she was leaving, I hailed her over for help. She walked in and was like, “Oh, no no no!” So she fetched me another one. When she got back, I reached over the door for it. She was like, “It’s me! Let me in!” So then I had to suffer the indignity of a sixty-year-old voyeur seeing me topless and struggling with recalcitrant underwear. (The new one was better though, I’ll give her that.) They were kicking me out of the store and I got so flustered that when I left five minutes later, I forgot my beaded bracelet (one that I made!) in the dressing room. I didn’t discover it til I was two blocks away.
- Today the Snook went back to get my bracelet. An excerpt from our communication:Me: Did you remember to stop at Grace Brothers?
Him: Yup. The lady was very rude, but I got your thingy.
Me: They’re all rude there! It’s a rude place! She didn’t disparage the QUALITY of my CRAFTSMANSHIP, did she?
Him: No. I just said that my girlfriend had left a “beaded cuff” and she was like “A WHAT???” and I had to explain. Then she got it and gave a little snicker and a funny smile when she gave it to me — not sure what that was about. Maybe she thought it was mine and I was lying about the girlfriend because I’m actually trans on the weekends or something.
In summary, Grace Brothers sucks. I’ll be shopping at David Jones from now on. Thank you.
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