Tag Archives: retail

Feb 19 2009
Games

Gamestop Woes

I didn’t preorder Dawn of War II fast enough on Amazon, so I had preordered it on Gamestop’s website and had them deliver it to the Whiteflint Mall store.

This was a mistake.

The mistake was ordering from Gamestop in the first place.  Now, I don’t know what happened.   I’m sure there’s another side to the story, but long story short, I did not walk away from Gamestop with Dawn of War II.

I called earlier today, to check to see if they had it in.  I am informed that they are sold out.  I state that I had preordered said title and was promptly referred to a manager.  I asked why I was not called.  He stated that the automated system did not call anyone.

Note:  Gamestop has a policy where if you do not pick up a preordered game within 48 hours, they will charge a $5 restock fee.

The manager was apologetic, but then stated that he would call another store and make sure they had one on hold for me, today.  He took down my name and assured me that there would be a copy waiting for me at the Montgomery Mall location.  I asked about the restock fee and canceling my preorder and he stated that I would have to come in person to cancel the preorder to avoid the restock fee.

I canceled my pre order at White Flint, and then promptly decided that I didn’t need to purchase Dawn of War 2 from Gamestop, but another person might want that other copy.  I call the other store to free up the copy that was on hold for me.

I’m told that it is the last copy, and they don’t hold games.  I ask if the manager called ahead and either the message never got through, or there was no call.

I wasn’t really surprised.  Either way, Gamestop lost pretty much all of their future sales from me. They won’t miss my money, considering that they posted $8.8 Billion dollars in sales last year.  I saw the business model in action tonight.  Someone traded in a copy of Forza for one dollar and thirty cents.  They sell it for $14.99.  I should have bought that copy for five dollars and given it to someone.

Dawn of War II did get released a bit earlier than expected, and I’m guessing that the automated call system can’t handle variables outside of its schedule.  I guess that’s a plus for the “filthy human” column.

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Feb 13 2009
2 Comments
writing

ReTales: My favorite job

I loved answering the phone.

Which is probably why I didn’t get to do it very often.

I would clock in, and then ask the shift supervisor who the sponsor was this week.  Every week, a publishing house paid corporate money to have us push a game when we answered the phone.  I heard that corporate often “cold called” stores to make sure that they were pushing the right product.  I hated corporate, but I enjoyed what I was doing for one day a week.

So I decided to combine the two.

“So, who owns us this week?”  I ask as I finish clocking in.

“SEGA, Virtua Tennis, pre order for only five dollars, blah blah blah. You know the drill.”  Rob sounds bored, but then he always sounds bored.  “You got the phone today so don’t forget the sponsor.”

“Sure.”  The phone rings.  I pick it up, and take a deep breath.

“Hello!”  My voice booms through the too small space of the too crowded storefront.

“And thank you for calling EBGames!  Brought to you by SEGA!”  I make sure that they know that SEGA is all caps.

Customers begin to stare.  My face is contorted with manic enthusiasm for SEGA and Virtua Tennis.

“Located in the beautiful Pentagon City Mall in Arlington Virginia!  Come visit us today!”  I remember that we have a sponsor, and take another deep breath.

“Where you can preorder SEGA Virtua Tennis for only five dollars down!  This is John, how may I help you?!”

Rob stares.

No response from the phone.  I think I hear breathing, then an abrupt click.

“Hello?”  I shrug and hang up.  I turn to Rob.  “No one was there.”

“You know what ‘John,'” Rob says taking the phone from my hand,  “I think I’ll answer the phone today.”

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Feb 10 2009
writing

ReTales WhooooOOOoooh!

I have fond memories of retail, which is strange because retail is horrible, soul destroying work that exposes you to the very worst aspects of American culture and society.  I worked for a now defunct (but then major) video game retailer in one of the busiest malls on the yellow and blue lines on the DC metro.

Let me paint a background picture.

My store number is one seven six.  My identification number for logging into my register is seven seven seven three zero. It takes me 30 minutes to get to work, but it takes me 47 minutes to get home if I catch the train right as I leave work.  If you purchase a game for $49.99 it will ring up at $52.24 after Virginia taxes.

The empty boxes sitting on the shelves are “guts” which is short for gutted.  The game discs are sitting in a locked shelf behind me.  I have a key for that drawer, even though I’m not supposed to have one.  I still attempt to alphabetize the games on the walls, mainly because I’m the only one who knows how to alphabetize properly.  Lately it’s more of a losing battle as some of my coworkers and most of our customers feel that you alphabetize the word, “The.”

On a wall in the back room we have polaroids of banned customers.  There is a shrink wrap machine and a heat gun which I have never, ever used for personal purposes to return things as new to other stores.  In this room, the walls are hidden behind shelves which are filled with inventory.  Some of it leans towards the center of the room.

We are in an informal competition with the girls who run the Arden B. on the second floor.  Every day we try to close a little earlier than each other.  They are winning.

I know the bank girls on a first name basis, the tellers that give us our change.  On a slow day, we’ll have thousands of dollars in cash for deposit that evening.  On a good day, well, on a good day, the money is obscene.  My register is never “short.”

The uniform is khaki pants and a black company shirt, although I get away with wearing a short sleeve button down black shirt from Banana Republic and a name tag.  This is against company policy.

Also, my name tag does not have my real name on it.  This is also against company policy.

I help open the store at 9am, on Saturday mornings.  Counting the register and tidying up the store if the closers did a poor job.  Tuesday nights after my day job, I help on the register and generally do a poor job of closing the store.  Full Disclosure: I work Tuesday nights because that’s the day that new games are released.

I have some stories for you.

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Feb 08 2009
Uncategorized

Not my real job

I remember when I worked retail at the now defunct EBGames.  They’re all GameStops now, and they’re all glorified pawnshops.  But I’ll always have fond memories of store one seven six.

It was just about the raunchiest store ever.  And crazy things would happen.  The worst part about it was, I only worked one day a week on Saturday mornings.

There were just so many characters.  It was like a wacky sitcom just waiting to happen.  One guy was an artist.  We had a guy with a prosthetic leg because he lost one jumping trains as a kid.  There was a police officer.  The guy who always spoke in a falsetto high pitch voice when talking to customers.  Then of course, me, who was snarky all the time because I only worked one day a week and I wasn’t afraid of getting fired because it wasn’t my real job.

Case in point.  I am assisting a woman at the register.  She looks lost.

“I’m looking for a game.”  She asks.  ” I’m not sure of the title, but I think it has a robot in it.  Yes, I’m looking for a robot game.  Do you have any of those?”

I blink.  She’s going to have to be more specific.  “I’m sorry Ma’am, but can you maybe be a little more specific?”

She stops to think for a while.  “Well, I’m not sure, I think it has a robot and the word drive or. . .”

“Oh,” I say, interrupting.  “You mean the robot game.”  I yell to the back where my manager is unboxing copies of Robot Alchemic Drive.  “Rob!  Get met a copy of the robot game!”  The game comes sailing through the air and I catch it one handed and scan it in one motion.  “Fifty-two dollars and twenty-four cents.  Will that be all?”  I ask.

For some reason, she looks angry.

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