I bought Ander some new, fuzzy, long onesie pajamas because all we've got for him right now is thin cotton and his room gets mighty chilly by sunrise. I was in a rush since I was making the quickest Wal-Mart pit stop between Fiddler rehearsals and choir rehearsals (which I was still late to anyway, doh!) and I just scanned the racks for the sizes on the hangers.
Whaddya know, the 18-month pajamas I grabbed were actually 6-9 month. But not even the biggest crisis, considering the other pair I got him that were indeed 18 month could barely squeeze on him anyway. If he hadn't peed through his diaper that night I would've been exchanging both pair.
But today, when I went to go exchange them, I noticed that he price tag on the 6-9 month pair had already been torn off and were stuffed in the bottom of one of the footies.
I thought,
"Hm, interesting, I didn't even notice last night."
At the customer service counter, she scanned the tag, scanned my receipt and then her eyebrows furrowed and she said,
"I don't see these on this receipt."
[blink, blink]
My best guess is that the cashier last night at the other Wal-Mart out in phoenix just had zero bothers to give about finding the tag or figuring out the price and, kind-heartedly, let me just walk out of the store with them for free?? I fully believed I had paid for them, fair and square, yet here I was looking like some cheater trying to scam my way into some free NINE DOLLAR BABY PAJAMAS.
I guess I don't pass off a "scammer" vibe because she just treated it like a "non-receipt" and let me pay the difference for the new 24 month pajamas and I dunno, I guess I'm going to baby pajama hell.
Scenario 2:
I'm fighting tears because after I deposited a crap ton of checks into our checking account (holla), had my bout with scenario 1 at our local Wal-Mart, darted over to Ross to sponsor Mark's birthday gift to me, and then ended up at Fry's I bought over $200 worth of gift cards for amazon plus a bunch of people's Christmas gifts.
And now I'm home and I don't know where they are.
Somewhere in the midst of paying, making sure my kid didn't climb out of the cart, and trying to stuff the long fluttering tail of gift card receipts into my wallet I cannot for the life of me remember if they got put into a bag or whether I left them at the register, in the cart, or perhaps Ander ate them.
In any case, I had one Ross bag, and four Wal-Mart bags in my car after I got home and put Ander down for an obscenely belated nap, but not a single Fry's bag of gift cards.
I called the store immediately and went through about 5 loops of being put on hold (when will somebody tell every store that music never transfers over the line well and it honestly would be better to just wait in silence?) and here's how THAT went--
They went to check with my cashier, because for some reason unbeknownst to me, my receipt didn't actually have my register number on it.
They brought back my cashier.
He looked in the bags and checked with the bagger.
She remembers putting them into a bag and placing them "next to [my] child".
He checked the store security footage and I did indeed leave the store with them in my cart.
He went out to the parking lot to check the carts.
They were nowhere to be found.
They then told me there was nothing else they could do and gave me the number for the Kroger Credit department and so far all I've gotten was "we currently have a high volume of calls. Please email."
So scratch that, no longer fighting tears. Full on meltdown sobbing attack. Can you handle how real we're getting on this blog lately? We don't call it a "lifestyle" blog for nuthin'.
Lifestyle level CHERNOBYL. Also #dramatic
Scenario 3:
An amazon package got stolen off our front porch and I haven't even called yet about that. Cuz I'm still calling about the MISSING TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS IN GIFT CARDS.
My husband is being unbelievably sweet about the whole thing, "it's not the end of the world," and I think I wouldn't be so torn up about it if I hadn't just spent the last couple months in a near-constant state of panic trying to earn that money in the first place.
Hi, yes, hello I need therapy.
Scenario 4:
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