The manager of our Babies ‘R’ Us thinks he’s a smooth operator. I introduced myself to him a few times, and every time he’d say, “Ooh! What a cute baby! How old is she?” Well, she’s a boy and her name is K-Pants, and she’s nine-months-old, same as the last time we were here.
The Babies ‘R’ Us opened at our new mall when K-Pants was three-months-old. I’d always been a mall-hater, but in New York City, being able to walk to a shopping mall is manna from Heaven.
In this sweet glow of mall-loving, it took me a while to realize I hated the Babies ‘R’ Us.
Mike, the manager, would croon over a rotten zucchini wrapped in a blanket. His internal monologue went like this: “If I pretend to like their babies, moms will buy more. They love my manly charm.”
Turns out, some customers like it when you do your job. We also like it when you hire cashiers who wear their thongs below their pant lines.
As you fellow-parents may know, the only way to make Babies ‘R’ Us work is with coupons. And my coupons would never come in the mail, so I approached the manager.
Hi Mike! My coupons never come. I couldn’t get them online either. What can you do for me?
This was Mike’s chance to shine—to bask in the glow of his limited powers.
“No problem, sweetheart. Let me check you out right now.”
But here’s how it really went down:
Mike: Well, you need to change your printer settings online. That’s what my wife does. When you get back home, put the baby in the crib, and play with your printer settings.
Perfect, Mike. Because what I would love to do is put the sweet zucchini in his crib so I can spend my free time figuring out how to print off coupons. And then I can walk those bad boys back to the store for some half-off Earth’s Best. Mike, you’re like Mel Gibson in What Women Want. Tell me more…
I went home and put K-Pants in his crib.
Then I looked up the corporate contact information for Babies ‘R’ Us. I wrote them a letter that included the figure for my yearly shopping budget at Babies ‘R’ Us that I would now be spending at Target. And I got a nice note back, apologizing and letting me know they would be talking with the manager.
Peace out, Mike!