A Waist of Time

Raise your receipts, if you can’t be bothered to return items. Who are we kidding? If you don’t return purchases, you don’t keep receipts. Heck, you don’t even ask for one. 

Returning purchases are such a hassle. With online returns you need to contact customer service, the parcel that you barbarically ripped open needs to be reconstructed, there is a fee and you need to drop if off at a location, which is what you were trying to avoid from shopping online in the first place. “No hassle return policy” is as mythical as Gandalf the Grey (and White).

In store returns are not much better. There is a deadline, the tags must be attached and more often than not they offer you the dreaded store credit. I didn’t like the first item I purchased from you, what makes you think I’ll like a different one? 

I will donate the item or use the resources for something else rather than go through the headache of returning it.  Some may call this lazy, but most returns end up in the landfill, so I’m not lazy, I’m environmentally-conscious. 

Convenience is my middle name (it’s actually Nicole, but convenience would sure catch people’s attention), which is why 85% of my shopping is done online – with a Prime membership.

I don’t condone your lifestyle Jeff Bezos, but damn that one day shipping gets me every time. 

All in all, returning items are a waste of time and apparently, so was returning a friend’s item… 

In You Just got Soloed, I was all on my own. Today, I required some assistance. 

When planning Stampede events at a long term facility, there is a lot to consider. Budget and decorations. How to incorporate Stampede-type content into every group program for two weeks. Selection of country music and most importantly, outfits. 

I take my Stampede outfits seriously and since I didn’t attend the actual Stampede this year, my work outfits were the only opportunity to showcase the western-bohemian section of my closet (and thankfully the only time I needed to wear my cowboy boots). 

I purchased a vintage cowboy belt buckle, but quickly realized I don’t own a belt. This is because I’ve never really been into belts or required them… 

So I reached out to my co-recreation therapist to see if I could borrow one. She generously brought me a few selections and after trying them on, I was locked and bloated for the rest of the day. 

The following afternoon I went to return the belts and was sidetracked during my route.  If you work in a care facility, you know that it is very difficult to travel from point A to point B without being blocked, rocked or mocked. 

A resident called out for help, so I set the belts down behind the unit clerk’s desk before assisting. However, the day went on and the belts remained.

Two weeks later, (you read that correctly) I was sitting at my desk and had a sudden flashback to the belts. 

I raced down the hallway to ask the nurse if she had seen a blue and black belt. She directed me to the healthcare aide who had picked them up thinking they were residents’ belongings.

The healthcare aide repeatedly apologized as if it was her fault and we headed to the resident rooms to retrieve the items.

I approached a female resident and explained the scenario. She began to giggle and said “there is a nice blue belt in my closet that is definitely not mine.” One down.

A few moments later the healthcare aide found the other belt that a resident happened to be wearing. Sanitized and second one down.

I called my co-recreation therapist to tell her what had happened. She explained, “you could have just let her have it. I don’t wear it anymore.”

There was no way I was going through the hassle of returning.