Friday, February 23, 2007
I fucking hate being a hostage to Duane Reade. I hate that they’re constantly rearranging the store. I hate that they have 13 Going on 30 prominently displayed next to the cash register for no reason other than to tempt me (Private to DR management: Price it at $5, and you’ve got a deal.). I hate that when there are three people in line in front of me, I know I’m going to be waiting no less than 15 minutes. I hate that when you drop off a prescription, they tell you to come back later in the day to pick it up, and when you do, you’re informed that they don’t carry that medication. WHY CAN’T YOU TELL ME THAT WHEN I DROP IT OFF IN THE MORNING? Why Duane Reade? Do you get off on wasting my time? Do you, faceless cashiers, enjoy taunting me and then blankly staring back at me when I get pissed like I’m the asshole?
While the above prescription story is true, it was a while ago, and my anger has mellowed to a low level boil at this point. Other indignities have followed. For example, not 15 minutes ago I walked into the store to purchase eye drops and deodorant. I had a $5 rebate thing that I got for using their “club card” (Why can’t you just give everyone the same discounts? Why must I hand over my phone number and e-mail address to get a quarter off a toothbrush? Stop wondering! That way lies madness…). I did not, however, have the club card on me. I stopped at the counter and asked if I could still use the rebate. I was greeted with (surprise!) a blank stare. It was endless. After a solid 20 seconds passed, I was beginning to think I was being either crazy or unreasonable. Irritation level: Purple (equivalent to a phone conversation with my mother that goes on ten minutes too long). Finally the cashier says, and this is a direct quote, “Yes.” Irritation level: mauve (Mom buys me lunch). So I’m off to pick up my purchases and return to the line. That same line. One person in front of me is buying cigarettes with his girlfriend. Turns out girlfriend thinks the cigarettes will be cheaper at the airport because apparently airports have all the best discounts. I’ll remember that the next time I pay $8.37 for a gin and tonic at La Guardia. Does this guy say, “Fuck off, I want a cigarette now, so I’m buying them here, and by nagging me about this now, you’re holding up the line.” Of course not! Instead they debate the issue.
BF: Are you sure?
BF: Really? Cause I really need some smokes, and I’m gonna be pissed if they’re more.
GF: What are you gonna do? Break up with me?
Needless to say, I hate them both. I have no idea if he ended up buying them or not. I was too busy praying for a piano to fall out of the sky and land on my head. Irritation level: burgundy (Mom wants to know when I’m going to have a baby.).
And then I’m finally, finally, FINALLY at the front of the line with the original cashier. I try to pay for my stuff with my rebate and am told (surely you’ve guessed this by now) that I need the club card to use it. Irritation level: neon green (Mom gives the son of one of her friends my phone number.). I asked why she had told me otherwise when I first entered the store, but it was already a lost cause. I stormed out without eye drops or deodorant. I probably could have just paid for them, but I was mid-storm out when I realized that, which means I’ll have to go back later today.
And I was so happy about that rebate when I got it. I knew those douchebags would find a way to ruin that for me too. Congratulations Duane Reade. You win again.