OK, so the other evening, after work, and a couple beers at the bar, I decided to try to buy a digital camera. I knew where to go, and what I wanted, so I figured it would be a nice quick trip, if a bit out of my way. But there’s a Taco Bell in the mall as well, and I haven’t had Taco Bell for a while.
So I head over to the Cambridgeside Galleria to go to Best Buy. While working up the enthusiasm for expensive impulse purchasing, I browse a little and play with the digital videocameras. After a little bit of this, I decide to try to get waited on. Nothing obtrusive, just look like I want help, try to make eye contact with the guy manning the area…
Who is nowhere to be seen. The entirety of the cell phones/PDAs/digital cameras/videocameras area is completely bereft of its sole salesman. But he’ll be back shortly. So I wait.
And wait while he waits on the couple near me upon his return. The couple who seem to be willing to settle on any of a wide variety of digital cameras, if only one of their coices were to be in stock. Which none are. Why the lone salesman has to keep looking through several different cabinets each time they ask about a different model I’m not sure. And why it takes him more time to verify the absence of a camera at this store than at other Best Buys in the area is also rather unclear.
But I keep glaring at him. I still have some hope that my choice will be in stock, as the store has it hidden under glass without any label on it. Of course, I also am beginning to suspect that this store is really a front for something else, as they seem to have no desire to get anyone to part with their money. All in all, about twenty minutes goes by, wherein I have waited patiently, honing my future attempt to keep things short.
Finally, the salesman makes it over to my area, asking if anyone needs help. Again, it puzzles me what else me and the others who have gathered might possibly look like we are there for. I speak up, and ask my question. The camera I want, the only one I will settle for, is out of stock. I leave.
There’s still time to get over to Taco Bell. A good 15 to 20 minutes before the mall closes. I can still salvage something from the trip.
Let me tell you something about Boston.
The city of Boston has a population of close to 600,000. Nicely packed into 47 square miles. With several tens of thousands of college students.
And ONE goddam Taco Bell.
There’s also this on, a crappy mall food court one, where you can’t even get one of those plastic trays to put your meal on, over where I am in Cambridge, not far from downtown Boston. So you might understand that I don’t get to Taco Bell often.
While waiting in line, I mull my options. Chalupas, gorditas, burritos, all in their infinite variety. Well, at least a couple varieties. I get to the head of the line and ask for a Number Six, the two chalupas and a taco meal. I am told that all they have is Number Nine. Three taco supremes. Would I like hard or soft?
No. I do not want Number Nine. You get nothing. I’m not settling for what’s available. You don’t have what I want, you don’t get my business. That fucking simple.
What the fuck kind of crap is this? What the hell is wrong with you people? Why can I go somewhere intending to make it as easy as possible for businesses to get my money, and yet they fuck it up? And, finally, just why the fuck is there only one Taco Bell in Boston, anyway?
