Sogger’s Blog

I’m painting the shutters on the house before Wnter sets in. Aren’t shutters great? Why don’t we have them in England? They keep the house insulated, protected, private; in fact, I don’t see any disadvantage at all…apart from having to paint them once every few years.

Shutters are heavy, so you want to make sure that the “few” in “every few years” is as large as possible. It was for this reason that we decided to buy the Dulux Valentine, “Guaranteed 10 Years Exterieur Wood Paint”. We went to the local DIY shop - the one I lovingly wrote about several months ago, spent a fortune on the stuff and followed the instructions to the letter, spending an inordinate amount of time sanding them down, removing loose paint and doing all that stuff that you do up front for a better quality result.

It was dark by the time I had finished preparing the first pair, but to get a move on, I decided to put a first coat on in the garage, even though it would be more difficult to see where I had already painted under the weak light. We had bought a nice “Patrick Green” paint (at least, that is what it said it was). I opened it up, and looking at it, I wasn’t sure at all that it was green. Maybe it just needs a good stirring? I thought. Hhhmm no, still a strange-looking green. Maybe I’ll try a few brush-strokes and it’ll dry green? Hhhmm, no. No doubting it, this is blue paint!, It definitely does not do what it says on the tin.

My wife is furious at this and can’t wait to get back to the shop to complain. When she gets there, she has (as usual) to wait for 45 minutes in the queue for returned goods. Behind the counter are 10 members of staff, with only 1 till operating, “1 more and they’ll be forming a football team” cries someone from behind, more in frustration than amusement. The conversation when she arrives at the front goes like this:

“I bought this tin of paint. On the side it says it is green. On the top, it says it is green. Inside, it is blue”.

“Did you open it?”

“Yes, how would I know it was blue otherwise?”

“Sorry, I can’t take it back - we don’t accept goods that have already been opened”.

“How would I know it was blue if I hadn’t opened it?”

“I don’t know, but I am not allowed to take back opened goods”.

“Please fetch me the manager”.

“If you like, but I can’t take back opened goods”.

Over comes the manager. “What seems to be the problem madam?”. “Please open this tin of green paint and prove to the lady that it is blue”. The “customer service” lady is still looking over the manager’s shoulder as he opens the tin, covering his hands in blue paint. “Is it blue?” she says. “What colour are these?” says the manager holding up his hands, trying not to get any on his Boss suit. “Well I can’t take it back because it’s been opened”. “Yes, I opened it. Please give the lady a voucher.”.

“Let me stop you there”, says my wife. “It’s 7:55PM, the store closes in 5 minutes, you have only 1 till open, so if you think I am going to go through the rigmarole of getting a voucher, searching for the paint, queuing and getting home before checking it is the right colour, you are sadly mistaken. Here is what is going to happen: You are going to go back to the paint aisle. You are going to get an identical tin of paint. You are going to open it in front of me and prove to me that it is the same colour inside as it says on the outside, I am going to walk out with it, and you can be sure that I won’t be coming back again.”.

There are still 10 people behind her in the returns queue, but their own frustration is momentarily forgotten in a bout of clapping as my wife walks triumphantly from the store, safe in the knowledge that she is carrying the paint that she originally came for.

I am a man, so the the way I would have dealt with it would have been different. I would have waited for the 45 minutes, looking at my watch and tutting, and preparing my indignant-sounding speech. However, when I arrived at the front, I would have said, “I didn’t need this”, taken my voucher, replaced the paint, queued and left, hammering one more nail in the coffin of the consumer in the face of big business. Ho hum, I would have said, with sighing acceptance on the way home, “why is everything so crap these days?”. And the ulcer in my stomach would have grown that little bit larger.

I would like to say in case you are interested, that the name of the store with this appalling customer service is CASTORAMA