After quite a deliberation, I purchased a new toaster last Tuesday. The decision was brought about because I was currently in the market for a new toaster as an old one had served me fro 12 years and finally decided to break down. So I logged onto one of those popular online retailers which sell nearly everything and made my purchase.
From the doors of the online retailer’s store, I step towards my newly bought toaster and get greeted by the disastrous consequences that are bound to emerge not so long. In the very first click, my cart was filled with a stainless steel toaster that claims to contain what the product description called “revolutionary browning technology.”
This new technology has a strong belief that it conceals an age old 1950s invention. Moving past that, I proceeded towards the checkout and that is where everything changed.
The website prompted me whether I want to opt in to “protect my investment” with a 14.99 dollar warranty. I am still bewildered how this is categorized as an investment. But, my appliances usually don’t require protection plans. Hence, I have slowly grown to believe that spurting these kinds of appliances wherein such a warranty is required, becomes highly insulting to me.
Upon completing my order and entering my credit card information, I was shocked to receive six confirmation emails instead of one. These “helpful” emails included order and shipping confirmations, along with some rather strange preemptive customer satisfaction surveys, unsolicited invitations to join loyalty schemes, as well as newsletters aimed at selling more products based on their shopping profile. The emails even included a suggestion list for other kitchen appliances I could purchase. After I placed my order, my microwave toaster was shipped within three days but to my surprise, the box was microwave-sized.
Accompanying the microwave was more than enough bubble wrap to avulse a small village, as well as three manuals – one in English, one in English and a dozen other languages, and one exclusive to the warming rack. Additionally, I also received a registration card verifying that I could activate the toaster’s warranty online even though I hadn’t purchased a warranty for it. Naturally, when I plugged the toaster in, my expectations were met and it did not work.
The first challenge I faced was the lever not staying down, setting me off on what would be a long and tedious journey through the return policy. In order to process a return, I needed an account on their platform, regardless if I had checked out as a guest previously.
Even more stringent than my banking password, the one for the online account was even more complicated. I, at long last, at long last reached the returns page after what felt like an eternity – twenty minutes to be precise – enduring the agonizing ordeal of account creation purgatory. “What might be a plausible reason for this defect?” the form asked uneasily.
Indeed, I clicked Yes. “Elaborate on the defect, please.” My response: the lever does not remain in the down position. “Are you in possession of a troubleshooting manual?” No, not ‘s a troubleshooting guide but there were three useless manuals in the box, none of which contained any hint or guide to problems.
I searched for the guide online, printed it, and followed the procedures like, “ make certain the toaster is connected to the power source” and “put the bread in the slot.”
Once I got the “confirmation” that I was indeed trying to use the voice-activated bread winner holder toaster and not a glorified paperweight, I could return it. The instructions instructed me to print a return label—yes, a label that they expected me to print myself (needless to say, I was out of ink and paper). Then, they asked me to place the toaster in the original carton which was half destroyed like, who keeps all that junk?
So, I packed the box, taped everything that was left to the box, and drove to the shipping center. Where I stood in line for 25 minutes behind people who looked just as miserable as I did after dealing with the returns. A week later, I received an email refunding me, the email, however, stated the refund “in progress.” And once again, this took 7 to 10 business days because, my money apparently needed a vacation.
The rest of the emails only contained a satisfaction survey, an email enticing me to keep the item, and finally, a coupon offering 10% off my next purchase.
Their perception towards me would not lead to a purchase of aid from a store that treated me in this manner. Yes, the refund came through, but with it came a perpetual store credit and a fee for restocking costing something unpleasant for any refund. After I called to dispute everything, which was from the refund policy, a customer service rep named John is going to end up being that sadistic human maze suffering under my chaotic strategy for a refund. I swear it took me 10 minutes to navigate through real customer service. Turns out they’re human beings masquerading as chatbots. In short, John.
I could not tell that until I listened to voice this free voucher coupon dodge over claim that is mine, but somehow I know suggest otherwise. So, supporting documentation was available upon request, but lost in a subsect of their refund policy that resides on the 17th paragraph, page four, subsection C. Swindlers, robbers, choice of descriptions really soaked up for neig last fall college. Too many hunting for spend less time dealing with my capture discourse deal so toaster refund and they.
I cannot understand how, as humans, we went from developing systems of evolution into something so ridiculous as commerce, one of the things that make us human. In the end, I went to the store and bought the toaster. It did not have a stainless steel finish, did not claim ‘revolutionary browning technology,’ and cost ten dollars more.
But most importantly, I walked out of the store with the toaster. And it works, as expected. From what I can remember, it took around eight minutes, which included casual hi-te-even-bow-with-the-cashier small talk about the weather. That is the reality we concocted because of endless technological opportunities.
The delight in buying products on the internet is in the surreal fantasy you conjure: all you must do is wait for it to arrive and all your dreams will come true—it will be ready for use. Nevertheless, the elaborate schemes we have built make the act of buying feel like starting a relationship with a corporate entity that treats you not as a sentient person but as just another number, a piece of data. All focus shifts the moment any relationship is established.
Next time I have to deal with purchasing any kitchenware, I think I will just save myself the trouble and ride over to the store. One more so-called “convenient” way of doing things will set me off giving me a blood pressure spike. And yes, I indeed had some perfectly made toast and my toaster did me good.
A toaster… From a self-proclaimed human seller who didn’t even need my email address.
