Purgatory, or Service in New York City

Last night I got home to Kitty saying, "I can't even turn on the computer now." Yep, our laptop, the window to our world, had completely died. Based on the fact that we both have so much going on right now, I knew that we would be in trouble if we didn't get a computer... pronto! Since it was a Wednesday night, I thought that things wouldn't be too bad at our local electronics superstore.

We left for Circuit City at 7 p.m., I knew exactly what model number that I wanted to buy. We got to the store and there was one person ahead of us. After about five minutes, the young man with the mint green "Firedog" polo asked if he could help us. As he started to point out monitors, Kitty and I started to discuss our options. We looked around and the man was gone.

We quickly decided on our monitor and we saw Mr. Mint talking to two customers at the register. He was talking to them about buying a laptop and they were trying to negotiate the price. I didn't think that was possible in a chain like Circuit City. About half way through the process, Mr. Mint leaves to get a manager and he is stopped by a different customer. He pauses to help them choose a new video card (and makes a TERRIBLE recommendation). We have now been standing for 20 minutes.

Mr. Mint ambles back to the laptop customers. A man in a red "Circuit City" polo languidly floats over, chats with the the small coffee klatch that has formed by the register, puts his key in and punches a few buttons. As he floats off on a cloud of bliss, we call out, "Can you please help us... we just want to buy a computer and monitor... we know exactly what we want..."

His voice comes to us from far away as he drifts off, "No, I'm sorry, only Mr. Mint can help yooooouuuuu...."

I leave Kitty at the register to wait in line and I head over to the "Official Firedog Customer Service Desk." I find two people sitting there, one is checking out screenshots of Tabula Rasa and the other seems to be doing something actually work related. I asked them if they could sell me a computer and monitor. "No, you need to see Mr. Mint."

As I head back, a woman in a red polo comes over. We ask if she could help us. "No, you need to see Mr. Mint."

Kitty pleads, "But we know exactly what we need. Please, won't you take our money?"

The woman ignores us except to call out over her shoulder, "I'm not just standing here. I'm not just standing here." She removes the cash register from the second drawer and leaves us.

It's been forty minutes now and we finally get some help from Mr. Mint. It takes about 10 minutes to process our transaction (because of a faulty gift card). After that, we get a receipt and head to the Merchandise Pick-up line. 20 minutes later, Kitty and I are sitting on an airconditioning unit watching as one poor guy behind the counter hustles to get people their purchased items. He is friendly, curteous, wears a tie and offers to go get items himself. Swirling around him, like a thick fog, are three red-shirted employees. They move in bullet time, "helping customers" and slowly typing things into their computers.

By 9:30, we are home and I am now the proud owner of a Compaq Presario with 2 GB ram and Window's Vista Premium and a 19" widescreen HD LCD monitor. But only after the most appalling customer service experience I have ever had.

Now just don't get me started on how the hell I get my XP programs to work with Windows Vista.