It’s easy to look at the half of the argument that you are on and not bother with the other half. If there is one point that readers have nit-picked at me consistently, it is that I tend to side with the counter clerk and view the customer as one step past a lobotomy patient. Do I actually see customers that way? Not at first…I always give someone new the proper chance to prove they know which color paint chip tasted the best, but once they earn their rating, they are stuck with it. (That, and I don’t have much hope for people on the whole, but I’m fine with that part.) But is it always the customer’s fault? No, it’s not. Sometimes the kid who ate DuPont chip nachos as a kid is behind the computer and is more than trained in the fine art of how to screw up your day. And recently, I learned the fun way just how screwed up that day can be.

The target item was an emergency brake light switch. Nothing major, just a little switch that, according to THE STORE’s web site, should be easily purchased. Not that Rock Auto or eBay didn’t have it, they did, but why wait a day or two when I could make a Taco Bell run and have the part in my hot little hand within an hour? Worst comes to worst, I could guarantee that the item was in a distribution center and could be at THE STORE by morning, which would still trump even the most caffeinated FedEx delivery driver. So I gave THE STORE a call, and got The Beard (the only person left there from when I was an employee) on the line. We had a quick chat, and I explained what part number I needed, verified that it wasn’t in stock at the store, ordered it from the distribution center, and noted that it would be in their hands by eight the next morning. All done. I then hopped in the car and made my Taco Hell run…just because cheap burritos are delicious burritos. Don’t you judge me.

Right on time the next morning, I enter the building, ready to find my little electronic doohickey. The Beard isn’t on shift, but the new Store Manager is, and he’s a good guy. He goes to look for my box…and can’t find it. He digs through everything: the stock that was brought in, the tubs of parts that were just delivered, etc. Flustered, he catches one of the delivery drivers and asks if he just delivered a brake switch. Sure enough, he did…to the guy at a motorsports shop four miles away who happens to have the same first name as I do. Since I have an appointment to make (and since I could suddenly use a few minutes to cool off), I ask if they can retrieve the part, credit the motorsports shop the pocket change they were just charged for a part they didn’t need, and I would return in a couple hours to get my switch. Store manager apologizes, promises it will be waiting here when I get back.

Two hours later, there is a box waiting behind the counter with a note that has my name on it. Happiness abounds…I appreciate it when a worker goes out of their way to make things right, mistake or otherwise. Nobody is perfect, mistakes are made, and as long as steps are taken to correct the problem, I’m satisfied. But as I open the box to check what is inside, my heart sinks…it’s not the right switch. I check the box…not the right part number. Now I’m pissed off…I have the part number saved in a photo on my phone. What I have: white plastic, small bits of metal, about an inch long. What I’m holding: black plastic in a completely different shape, with a plunger at the end. I’m not holding the emergency brake light switch, I’m holding the brake light switch…the one that goes behind the pedal assembly. If I hadn’t looked up the part number, this wouldn’t be a big deal. But I did. I double-checked my work. I made sure that issues would be kept to a minimum, and yet everything had gone wrong.

Store Manager did order in the right part, and got it in quickly. But it was The Beard’s response, when I asked him about it a couple of days later, that really set the tone: “Well, those things happen, I guess. What’cha gonna do?” What I’m “gonna do”, and what I did, was call him out on his laziness and inattention to detail. Did anything get hurt? Did I lose money? No…but I lost time, which is more valuable than money, I lost respect for someone who had been a killer co-worker when I left, and I lost faith in THE STORE to make sure that doing something right didn’t require a second or third time.

One tiny little switch, one giant pain in the backside.