Okay, so I let it slide when, just three short weeks after I start using you, you call me to inform me that three buttons are missing on one of my blouses. What the fuck? They were there when I gave you the fucking blouse to be drycleaned, bitch. But okay, maybe I didn’t notice that three fucking buttons were missing when I took the damn thing off and put it immediately in my drycleaning bag. I gave you the benefit of the doubt.
I let it slide again, when I present you with a business suit with two snaps loose and ask you to sew them back on. I watch as you nod, smile, and take the snaps from me. Lo and behold, when I get the suit back, the top snap is still detached, and bottom one is missing altogether! You idiot and your fucking moron plebes who work for you. And yet, I continue to use you.
But now, now you have risen above your usual level of blind idiocy. Because you have drycleaned a shirt for me and returned it with all four buttons missing from the cuffs. What the fuck this time? I need the fucking buttons to actually wear the shirt so I come back to you and ask for you to put some buttons back on the shirt. Any fucking buttons will do. But no! You, the only one who speaks English in the whole fucking shop, talk to the other two employees. After I spend 20 minutes trying to figure out what the fuck you’re trying to say, you tell me that I have my buttons after all! Another employee has kindly attached all four of them to my invoice!! What?? Jesus fucking Christ!
I still don’t know why the hell you took the buttons off, if they fell off or what; I couldn’t understand your explanation of what the hell happened. All I know is, I gave you a shirt with buttons on it, and you return the shirt to me with the buttons separate. I also know that I’ve had this shirt drycleaned for three goddamn years now, and no one else ever had a problem with the buttons. So I ask you, “if I come back with the buttons, will you reattach them at no cost?” What do you say? “No”! What? So you’re telling me that when you fuck up a job, I have to pay for you to fucking fix it?!
You God Damn motherfucking bitch from hell. You just lost my business.
that would just be too much trouble. Drycleaners are on every corner, I’ll just have the next one sew the buttons back on. I’m damn sure not going to pay these assholes to do it.
Back when shoulder pads were more fashionable, the surest way to lose my dry-cleaning custom was to return my jackets with the shoulder pads mooshed up into shapeless wads. I might have bought the idea that any dry cleaning would destroy the pads, but I noticed that only suspiciously discount places did this. Damn! I’m getting mad just at the memory, and shoulder pads have been out of style for ten years!
It seems to me that the sloppier the work a drycleaner does, the more prominently they display the “not responsible for buttons, zippers, snaps, etc” sign.
There are great cleaners out there. I pay a little more, but there is no point in paying $0.99 per shirt if you can’t wear them.
And the shoulder pad thing drove me nuts too. I noticed that my shoulder pads only did that when I ran them through the damn washing machine at home, so what they hell were they doing?!?
Just sounds like laziness to me. I took in a vintage lambswool sweater with heavy beading to the dry cleaner and asked him if he could do it. Once he started doing the “well, I’m not sure, hem haw, hem haw”, I said, “forget it - I’ll try handwashing it.” I can just see me getting it back and having all the beads and sequins GONE!
I’ve had my stories with dry cleaners. The first one I stopped going to started not pressing my blouses right and leaving them noticeably wrinkled. There were other annoyances but the final straw was when my Uncle picked up my last batch from this jerk. My Uncle went at 10:00 am and the clothes weren’t ready. The guy told him to come back at 2:00. He had them for a week and they weren’t ready on the day he said they would be. And he always seemed to have an attitude, like doing your clothes were an imposition.
Now my Uncle (who would drop off and pick up my dry cleaning for me) is a sweet guy, but not always on top of things. The next cleaner he went to put “stain” next to everything (I’m assuming to cover their asses in case they ruined anything). I didn’t find out about this until I got back a pair of slate gray pants with a slash of lighter color across the thigh. I take the pants back. Of course, THEY didn’t do it. I got something on it. Please! It looked just like they put too much chemical in one spot. It was very light but it wasn’t a stain. I’d remember getting something that long and wide on the outside of my thigh!
Now I’m thinking of changing my present cleaner because I’m tired of the disapproval tone I get because my clothes sometimes has cat hair on it. Am I the only one in my town who has cats? Now, suddenly the prices seem to jump up (and I do mean jump $1.00 more for a pair of paints) Give me a break!
I don’t seem to have problems like this with anyone else I deal with. For a service industry, dry cleaners on the whole seem to be unwilling to give good service. (And I’m not referring to those of you out there that do dry cleaning and do it right. But I’m three for three right now and not impressed!)
I had one of those dresses with a tie in the back - you know, two ribbons of fabric stitched into the side seams, which you tie at the back after you’ve got the dress on. A dry cleaner completely ripped off one side, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the dress. They disclaimed liability under the “not responsible for belts” weasel sign. I should have known - they stapled the tags to my clothes. I really hate that. Anyway, I was overjoyed when the bastards went out of business.
Now I use A Cleaner World, which is a chain, so you might be able to find one near you. They use safety pins, not staples, and generally have had good people working there. A couple of times they have made mistakes (giving me someone else’s clothes, and leaving my husband’s shirt out of my dry cleaning pickup), but they were great about correcting them, and there was no question that I would have to pay. It’s nice to know that not all companies are completely devoid of customer service.
Oh, that wasn’t even really the issue. I’ve never even been to a drycleaner (or nail place) where English was the first language. In fact, my previous drycleaner didn’t speak it any better than my current, banned one. But I didn’t need to talk to him, he did his frelling job. He worked his ass off to try to get a stain out for me, and when he screwed it up, he was very apologetic, and I continued to use him.
These assholes, on the other hand, did in fact have the disclaimer on every ticket and I should have realized then what I was in for. They were strictly a Cover Your Ass business, to avoid any liability, and did not give a rat’s ass when something was screwed up.
And that last button thing still gets to me. I can’t get over it, it’s just so bizarre.
Sounds like you’re all getting screwed. My brother’s (not real brother but too close to be just friends) family is in the drycleaning business. I’ve never had any problems with my drycleaning. My only problem is caring enough about fashion to actually buy “dryclean only” garments! Just about everything I own, which isn’t alot, can be manhandled in the washing machine.
The only suit that I have ever loved was destroyed by a dry cleaners.
“But shirley,” you say," You are So Frugal. Why’ja dry clean? What made you give up spot cleaning your wool suit that looked oh-so-european in design? (and cost about $40 overall at a resale shop)"
Peer pressure. It won’t happen again. Of all the things to cave into with peer pressure, it wasn’t drugs, satanic music, sex or Adam Sandler movies. It was dry cleaning. :::sobbing:::I am sooo ashamed.
When my perfectly fitting suit was picked up from the local cleaners, the sleeves and pants were too short. This was instantly noticeable because the lining in it was sticking out.
I was coming home from working out and wearing a tank top and bike shorts ( oh how I long for that body that I use to lament) and tried on my jacket and pants.
I argued with the woman (american). She said " You’ve put on a little weight since you last wore it."
I snarled, " Yeah, and I’ve grown about three inches and at the rate my arms are going, I’ll be swinging from the trees. You shrank the only suit that has ever fit my shoulders (wide), short legs and waist line."
I would love to tell you that they reimbursed me for the cost of my suit. But, they didn’t. I did, however, receive immense satisfaction in telling the next few customers coming in the door ( while wearing my useless suit), the terrible job this place did and to go elsewear. They did.