Dear Best Buy

Best Buy (# 1442)
Attn: Store Director
7041 Sw Nyberg St
Tualatin,OR 97062

Dear Store Director:

Congratulations on opening your newest Best Buy retail store here in the lovely state of Oregon. Geographically located as I am, I have been historically torn between driving to your ghetto-like east-side store, or making the longer, yet safer, drive to Beaverton. The Beaverton location, of course, has ill-conceived and wholly inadequate parking. It is also poorly placed at the land-locked Cedar Hills Center, which requires that I risk the wrath of the jack-bootedly thuggish Beaverton Police Department and their goddamn photo radar...

Forgive me Mr. Store Director, I digress.

So, it was with jubilant elation that I learned of the latest installation, just off the freeway, in the quiet community of Tualatin. "Hurray!" I said, "hurray! For now I can quickly and conveniently save time and money by slaking my thirst for the latest electronic doodads and baubles at discount prices on the way home from work!"

Unfortunately, we both know this isn't true. Whereas, once, Best Buy was the defacto automatic destination for the best selection and lowest prices. Slowly, however, and insidiously, your prices have crept upward toward the unsightly MSRP. There are places to go, at least for the slack-jawed and dim-witted, where one can voluntarily pay MSRP on home electronics. Hell, if you are lazy enough, you can even find a way to pay a premium.

Once an oasis from this stifling inflationary retail culture, Best Buy has greedily slowly but steadily inflated its way to irrelevance.

This, however, is not necessarily your fault. What is your fault, though, is the piss-poor manner in which your store is run. Let us start with the door lackey. The pasty boy in the ill-fitting polo shirt whose job it is to sit on a stool and make with witless welcomes to each potential patron who walks through the door.

How nice... how friendly...

Bullshit. He is there for the sole purpose of reminding us that you are watching our every move. We will not steal because the are four yellow-shirted floor monkeys for each and every one of us.

I am usually short on time when I wander in. I do not want to chit chat with Sparky the retail boy. However, over and over, I am intruded upon, harassed and harangued. I do not need to be helped. I am perfectly capable of reading the back of the printer box or selecting the latest Spice Girls CD with out a pimply pest disturbing my shopping therapy.

I do not want to be approached by your minions. It makes me want to NOT SPEND MONEY. Oh, and spend money, I have. Much, much, much money, over the years with your chain. But when you break my fantasy concentration as I stare doe-eyed at the DVD selection, I loose all urge to engage in commercial intercourse.

I have been shopping by myself for years now. I do not need your help. There is one thing you can do though. That is, you could put your goddamn DVDs in alphabetical order, oh, and, you could also put the new arrivals in the section marked as such. Your failure to stat such basic steps for the benefit and convenience of your customers displays an utter lack of respect for me and all others like me. Do you think we're stupid? Do you think we wouldn't notice your half-assed craptastic shelf-stocking short-comings?

Despite all of this, I did stop by your store on Friday to pick up my copy of Black Snake Moan, a fabulous movie, but one which will likely sail over your vacuous head, you Neanderthal turd ball...

Having had to search for this "New Release" in aisles other than the one marked "New Releases," I finally found my quarry and headed to the check stand.

There were no other customers in line (probably because of your unconscionable price gouging), yet I still needed to wander through the Disney-like maze of retractable nylon line straps. Sure your neat lanes would coral and maintain mobs of plenty, but it was just me. Your lack of forethought or attention to detail disturbs me. you should not be rewarded for sub-par supervision.

Nevertheless, I proceeded, mostly because the goodie in my hand wielded more mojo than your anti-mojo management quackery.

Your cashier finally ushered me through the last several yards of the maze, and over to her check stand. "Do you have our rewards card?" she asked. This stumped me a little, as i only wanted to pay for my DVD and go home.

"No," I said, as I waited for her to scan my item. And see, Mr. Manager, this is where it all went wrong. I blame you for her well-conditioned response. She was only following your training.

"Well, I can't believe that you want to just throw away an instant savings of 15%" She replied.

Wait a minute. Was she scolding me? Was she implying that I was somehow wrong for wanting to make my purchase and get out quickly?

I gave her a condescending look, which I excel at, and made it exceptionally clear that I was not interested and did not have time to sign up for anything that night. She finally found her way to scanning my ONE ITEM. Already several minutes had passed, but for no real reason. Once scanned, she deftly opened a tri-fold broschure and announced that I qualified for a "free" magazine subscription. "Which one do you want?" She inquired.

"I'm really not interested." Did she not see the arching eyebrow??

With a hurt look on her dry featureless homely face she repeated the lines that you gave her: "I really do not understand. This is such a fantastic deal. I cannot understand why you wouldn't take it. Well, if you can think of anyone else who would like to actually receive FREE magazines, be sure to send them in."

I looked at her, standing there with out any trace of personality or soul, horse faced, her frame featureless, her tan khakis stretched over her widening ass. She smelled vaguely of sweat and sour milk.

I cleared my throat, and clarified my disinterest. I should have beat her with the DVD. I really wanted the DVD though, and I sensed the ordeal was nearly over.

She gave me a disapproving look. I walked toward the exit, where I was once again accosted by spunky door-keeping twink. And with that, I was free.

Mr. Store Director, I hate you . I hate your cashier and I hate your store. I hate your intrusive employees and your hard-sale tactics. I wish you ill-will in general, and some form of disciplinary rebuke specifically. Please note, I will not be returning to your store.

Sincerely,

Mr. Gin & tonic