Here’s why I hate Best Buy.
NewsMy ire for Best Buy can no longer be contained to the 140-character limitation of Twitter. The only other way I know of expressing my frustration is via this blog, albeit the first time in over six months this thing has seen content. But it’s important to me to put down my thoughts that woke me up out of a perfectly good hangover this morning.
A few people have asked me about my recent change-of-heart about Best Buy. For years, I was a staunch Best Buy supporter. Of course, every relationship has it’s hard times, and mine with Best Buy was no exception. But until recently, the relationship faded and became way more taxing than I’d care, hence my blockade of purchasing from Best Buy, and this post.
First off, it’s important to qualify my relationship with Best Buy (which I’ll refer to sometimes as just “BB”). I’ll go a little deeper than how BB sees me—as just a number and revenue stream—and break it down a bit more.
When I was young, my dad feared Best Buy. He was an 80s/90s tech-head, and had computers for as long as I could remember. But even with all this, he stayed clear of BB, opting to shop at Sears and Montgomery Wards instead. I always wondered why until one day he was forced to go to the store and return something. I remember the way the store was laid out, and back then, the Returns counter looked dark and droll. They had some mean person working it, and attempting a return was like doing battle. My dad had the hardest time returning something that day, and it made me quite fearful of the store myself.
Fast forward some years and I’m leaving on my own, and obviously a tech-head in my own right. I’m 20 years old, living alone, and pulling down an adult salary. With no kids, no worries, what else would you do? Buy shit. Lots of shit. Lots of tech shit, like TVs, stereos, video games, and computers. In these times, Montgomery Ward had met it’s death, there was no Office Max yet, and Sears was where old people went shopping for clothes. Being young and impressionable and Best Buy being flashy and shiny, our relationship started. And it continued since then, expanding to every facet of my life…no longer just entertainment (but mostly still entertainment).
Here’s an off-the-top-of-my-head list of my purchases over the years from Best Buy:
- Five TVs, including two big-ass flat screens
- Four desktop computers
- Five laptops (FIVE!)
- A Sony Playstation, PS2, PS3, and a Nintendo Wii
- A vacuum
- A washer and dryer
- So many DVD players it’s hard to think
- Countless DVDs, blu-rays, and CDs. COUNTLESS. (I had a 500+ DVD collection at one point)
- Most of my Christmas shopping
I’m sure there’s more, but this is the list of the really big things. So as you can see, I’ve given a lot of business to Best Buy. If they were a hospital or school, they’d name a wing of it after me I’ve spent so much there. I’ve got a Premiere Reward Zone membership (if you spend more than $2,500 a year at the store), and I have been a Best Buy credit card since before I can remember (it’s probably the foundation of my credit history, actually). I’ve sent so much business Best Buy’s way in the past because of my old free-lance computer repair that I did, and my roots as “IT guy” at three well-established businesses. In our relationship, I was the bitch… Best Buy’s bitch. And that’s OK, because I loved everything I got from them. It was trendy, fun, and fun.
Of course, my love affair with Best Buy was never reciprocated (the Reward Zone program in its infancy was close, but the program has since been brutalized and turned into nothing but a “sense of ownership” falsity.) The only time there was a semblance of “Best Buy Loves Me” was when the security guy at the front door would say “hey” and actually—really truly actually—recognize me. But that wasn’t really BB loving me, of course, just that guy knowing I had a problem.
For about two years, between 2006 and 2008, Best Buy was the perfect spouse. They had baller sales, all the cool tech, and I never had a problem with a return. The Reward Zone was an amazing program where I thought I was getting away with highway robbery back then (and so did BB, because they have since curtailed the program). I probably spent $10,000 at Best Buy during the Golden Years of the store. It was a thing of beauty, and BB could do no wrong (nor did they).
They one day, around late 2008, Best Buy started on their path to shitiness, where the retailer currently resides (in my eyes, at least). I was looking to buy a new netbook—the latest up-and-coming rage—and was standing around in the computer area for ever, waiting for someone to assist me. Since I work very part-time in retail sales, I always expect the mantra of “the customer is priority one” to apply wherever I shop. So I waited for a sales person to come to me. They weren’t busy, and there were three of them standing around. So I waited some more. One of them left, and the other two just sat there. In the end, I waited for 45 minutes and received no assistance on what would have been a $400 purchase. So I left, and went home, and fired off an angry email.
Amazingly, some store manager sub-type called me. She read of what was surely a script fed to her by the archetype managers, and it seemed as if it was her first time handling a customer call-back. Normally, I’d thrive on the situation—my chance to beat up on the lesser-dominant Corporate America—but I took it easy, let her read through her script, and then rattled off my real concern, of which none of her script addressed. I got back the standard “ok, we’ll look into that” response, but at least my voice was heard and there was now official record of my complaint. Plus, Best Buy had made the attempt to show me that they actually gave a half-fuck.
Since then, I had watched first-handedly the customer service at Best Buy greatly degrade. People were numbers nowadays to salespeople because we all needed technology—be it phones, computers, or TVs. Best Buy switched from “we want your business” to “we are providing you what you need” and the thought stuck in sales people’s minds. Gone was the Golden Years in which I actually thought people cared somewhat about me when I wanted to find a TV. On top of all this, since the public was thirsting for tech, BB could hire anyone with a pulse to “sell” the stuff. Here’s another falsity in BB: just because someone greets you at the door, and asks you RIGHT AWAY if they can help you while you look for TVs doesn’t actually mean that they give a shit—or know what they are talking about. 99% of the time if you ask a question that isn’t answered by a product brochure or the price placard, you’ll see the sales person go to someone else for answers.
At this point in my story, I think it’s only fair to bring light to one person at Best Buy who was a helpful salesperson…since I’m an equal-opportunity hater. When I bought my current (beautiful, sexy) plasma TV, a little red-head girl working the area bent over backwards to answer my questions and work with me. While not the most tech-savvy of salespersons, she did her best, and got me immediate and prompt answers when I needed them. In the end, Best Buy got my business solely on her work. A great story, true, but a small glimmer in the swirling cesspool of Best Buy sales in the end.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I had bought a cable modem from Best Buy for my internet connection through Charter (another story for later, kids!). The cable modem seemed to work fine, until my internet connection kept dropping. Charter did “everything they could” and eventually figured it was the cable modem. Being a tech guy, I agreed somewhat with their prognosis, and returned the modem. As I walked to the Returns desk, I saw the same dark cloud hanging over it as I did so many years ago when I went to BB with my dad. And I was not mistaken.
The returns desk lady was short, curt, and overall rude. Of course, I didn’t have a receipt (that’s my bad, seriously, I usually keep them), and it was past the 30-day return window. I could swap the modem, however, and so I set off to do so. But of course, the modem I needed was gone, as was the other DOCSIS 3.0 modem. There was one different modem left, at $50 more in price, which would satisfy my needs. I flagged down a salesperson (ugh) and asked if they had any more of my modem in inventory. He looked at the rack of modems, said “no” and left. My pulse and temperature raised. I went back to the Returns desk told the evil girl my story. Obviously irritated, she said that they could give me in-store credit, since Best Buy has a small sliver of a soul. She told me that I could order the modem online. Of course, the problem was that I had no modem and therefore no FUCKING INTERNET, I told her. Since none of this was her concern any more, she continued to stare blankly at me, and then turn away. She didn’t bother to even try and sell me one of the modem off the shelves, let alone say “sorry.” This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I forgot to mention: earlier that day when I went to Best Buy (that’s right, I went there twice in a day), I went to get a gigabyte network card (yes, to those of you seven readers of this blog who are techies, I needed a network card…weird, right?) and again, of course, they were out of both types they stocked. And yes, again, I asked if they had some more in inventory, and the salesperson responded “no” without even a cursory glance at the shelves.
I have blogged, Twittered (I hate the word “Tweeted”), and Facebooked about the death of customer service, and at this point in time, I had had it with Best Buy, and all those Social Media-based updates came floating to the service. Anyone who knows me knows that I can harbor a retail grudge very well and efficiently—my long-standing ban on shopping at Wal-Mart is now a decade old, and my hatred I harbor for local Ski Hut (for reasons other than what you may think)—so this is why I’ve arrived at this point. While my absence at Best Buy will go unnoticed, it’s important to know that I will have quite a bit of impact on them besides my own personal financial input. Again, as company computer guy for two local businesses (one of the, kind of a big, nudge nudge) I have certain clout in the areas BB focuses sales on. Additionally, as that well-known and oft-consulted IT guy with my friends and family, I’ll make no qualms in sending business another direction.
Of course, some crappy customer service isn’t the SOLE reason for disliking Best Buy…there’s many more reasons. Such as price gouging (yeah, $150 HDMI cable?) and brand favoritism, as well as just forcing the little guy out. Compound this with the bad customer service and the horrible inventory skills presented by the Duluth store, and I think I have a well-founded basis for my embargo of Best Buy.
So after I cash in my Reward Zone points (yeah, one more purchase, you giant corporate bastard!), I’ll pay off my Best Buy credit card, and never return to Best Buy. Can BB repair their relationship with me? Sure, but it’s not going to happen overnight…hell, if they even care at all. As far as they are concerned, I’m just another credit-card carrying number, going begging to them for the tech that I am required to have. I’ll monitor blogs, friends and families shopping experiences, and just normal word-of-mouth to see if Best Buy can return to the Golden Days.
In the meantime, I’ll shop Monoprice and Newegg. I’m sure Fedex and UPS won’t mind a few more trips to my house. I’ll give those companies my money anyway, because they actually seem to care about the customer still. For now, at least.