Roving Managerial Types

I went to Costco the other day.  I like Costco.  They treat their employees fairly and I enjoy buying a box of oatmeal that contains one thousand servings or a bag of raisins that would nourish the Army of the Potomac for a month.  If I can save a third of a cent per serving I say load it in my cart.  I also use a Costco credit card because it has some nice cash back options.  I used the card a ton this year so the rebate check they sent me was for $3200.

I try to be respectful of my fellow shoppers so I asked the attendant who verifies your membership card as you enter the store how I should handle my rebate.  I specifically pointed out that it was pretty large.  "Show them at the check-out lane.  They'll be able to cash that."  I enter the store full of positivity and bearing no ill will toward any one of my fellows but with the tiniest, smallest, quietest voices in the back of my head wondering at the already deteriorating arc of this transaction.  

I shopped.  The store was very busy and the check-out lines were long.  I showed the rebate to the guy manning the register who said:  "Whoa."  This wasn't particularly comforting.  He waved over a roving managerial type and said: "She'll take care of this."  The small voices were beginning to clear their throats.  

The managerial type took me to a kiosk, scanned the rebate check perched on my phone, and said: "Where's the replacement check?  This is Check Number One which has been replaced by Check Number Two."

I replied - quite reasonably, I think: "This check was sent to me a week ago.  There's already a replacement check?"  I handed her my phone and said: "They emailed me this check.  They did not email me a replacement check.  Where is the check?  Show me where the check is."  The voices were barking gleefully at this point.  They were no longer small or still or quiet.

She did not take my phone.  She did say: "Do you have the Costco app?"

What I wanted to say but did not say was: "No.  I have the check.  I have Check Number One.  You sent me Check Number One five days ago."  I'm pretty good with technology for an old guy.  I'm not afraid of it.  I'm semi-savvy.  But I am a Digital Immigrant and not a Digital Native like people who are weaned and suckled on electronica.   I have to think it through.  It requires some foresight.  It's a process It's not an automatic reaction like it is to those people who walk around glued to their phones all day.  I did not relish downloading an app on the fly and then registering my information on a public WiFi system.  The woman kind of looked at me with a "Fuck do you want me to do?" look on her face.  She wasn't being unpleasant.  She was not being helpful, grant me that, but she didn't know where the check was and that was not, at the moment, her problem.

I said "Okay" and walked away, directly into the line at the service desk.  I needed help and the roving managerial type was not going to give it to me.  There were, a course, a lot of people in line.  I was a little frustrated but not mad. I'm retired and my wife loves it when I'm out of the house for big chunks of time and I knew I'd get the money eventually but I wanted the money NOW.  I came to the store to buy some big bags of prunes and giant packages of Brussels sprouts and to GET MY MONEY.  I leaned into the woman a couple of people in front of me and quipped: "I'll give you $100 to let me get ahead of you" and the idiot thought I was being serious so instead of making her laugh I had to launch into an explanation as to why I was NOT going to give her $100.  She looked a little disappointed.

While I waited I managed to download the Costco app, got registered, and located Check Number Two.  I had no intention of going back and talking to the ultimately unhelpful roving managerial type so I waited until I got to the woman at the service desk who looked at my check and said: "Whoa."  I said: "Yes, I've heard that a few times already."  She replied: "It's going to be in twenties."  I had already done the simple math in my head and knew that would be 160 twenties.  That's a big stack of money.  Fuck am I going to do with 160 twenty dollar bills?  What am I?  A drug dealer? (Ed. Note: Not any more.)  One of those sketchy guys hanging out on street corners who will exchange twenty American for Iraqi Dinars?

She waved another roving managerial type over who cheerfully told me they'd be happy to write a check instead.  First time I had heard that and I was on my fifth Costco employee at that point.  As I was waiting the first roving managerial type drifted into my space and I said: "Look - I'm sorry.  I was getting a little frustrated."  She waved me off, no problem, as she should have as a customer service manager even if I had acted poorly which I do not think I did.

Took me all of what?  an extra half hour?  I DID get my money.