June 13, 2008 by Keli.

I encountered stupidity in a store where I’d thought idiocy had gone the way of the Dodo bird. I was certain that employees of this last retail bastion of intelligence were required to take a test or some sort of brain scan before they were hired, ensuring the absence of even the slightest hint of stupidity. But alas, I was wrong.

First of all, there exists particular retail establishments where moronic behavior is expected and accepted…to a certain degree, anyway. Shopping at a Walmart or Home Depot sometimes requires skill to maneuver around stupers (short for emphatically stupid persons). Any exhibition of intelligence at either of these places draws a stunned tribute from me. If my dear readers should happen to see a smartly dressed woman, standing in salute or politely applauding a worker at one of those stores, that would be me.

When Nordstrom (site of one of my favorite shopping experiences) has a sale, I utilize a plan of action in order to promote efficiency as well as my sanity. I successfully beat the crowds while getting the best prices, thanks to the cheerful cooperation of Nordstrom employees. I arrive the day before, ask an employee to show me whatever soon-to-be-sale items that he/she can, place what I want on hold and breeze in the next day to simply pay and leave.

Yesterday, a hard-boiled stuper feverishly attempted to convince me that Nordstrom could do without my business.

I went to the men’s department, picked out tennis shoes for Husband when I was approached by salesperson, Brooks (doesn’t that sound like a perfect name for an American butler?). Brooks had two dazed and droopy, disenchanted eyes which dominated his face and gave him the appearance of one about to fall backwards at any given moment. I didn’t know whether to yell, “timber!” or grab him by his necktie, assisting him in keeping upright.

Me: Is this shoe going to be on sale tomorrow?

Brooks: Yes.

Me: Great! I’d like to place it on hold please and purchase it tomorrow.

Brooks: That’s against store policy.

Me: I did the same thing in the ladies department last month when….

I’m going to spare you the tiresome details, but suffice it to say, he argued my every point. I offered past evidence, and he insisted every employee who helped me was either a figment of my imagination or an insurgent. Finally, I made it clear again that the actual purchase would take place the next day, when the sale began. I just wanted the shoes set aside for me. Brooks said,

“Oh, that’s all right then. We can do that for one day.”

He said he needed to locate a form for me to fill out and left the department. He returned ten minutes later, filled out the form while I berated myself for giving Brooks stuper status. It was just a misunderstanding. Perhaps I had not communicated my desire clearly. Brooks took note that I had purchased items in this manner before as indicated on his computer screen. One would think at this point, the light bulb would be shining brightly.

“I’ll need your credit card so as soon as they go on sale, I can charge you.”

That was the kiss of death. Or at least the deal killer. I didn’t have my Nordstrom card on me since I figured I’d use it the following day, based on past, happy experiences. Plus, I didn’t want to give him the card number, and then have it just laying around in my absence.

“Sorry, I don’t have it. You can charge me tomorrow when I pick up the shoes.”

“I need a credit card so I can charge you as soon as the sale starts.”

What he really meant was I want my sale and I don’t trust you to come back and buy these shoes - I don’t care what you say or what the computer screen says.

Perhaps previous customers had claimed they’d return to purchase something from Brooks, never to be seen or heard from again. Such undependable clientale could have left him permanently traumatized and distrusting of customers. Bottom line: he wanted his commission.

I realized there’d be no progress when dealing with a stale mind. I thanked Brooks and vowed inwardly to return tomorrow to make my purchase (it was a men’s sale; how crowded could it possibly be?) from some one else.

It’s best to leave stupidity behind where you found it, and move on to better things. I could have resisted the situation and insisted on speaking to….practically anyone else who worked there; that likely would have met with success. But really, I decided to go with the flow and keep my blood pressure and sanity intact.

Keep thinking.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 6 Comments »

May 14, 2008 by Keli.

It was pointed out to me that I seem to have a flair for finding stupidity wherever I go. It’s true. I’m always on the lookout for stupers (short, once more, for fundamentally stupid persons), but I do it for the sole purpose of assisting others, as well as myself, to avoid the commonplace annoyance and often overwhelming irritation resulting from inane encounters. After all, many illnesses and mental disorders are, I believe, an offshoot of persistent, unwelcome contact with complete and utter idiots. I sincerely hope I am helpful to my dear readers.

Over the past few days, the family and I traveled to Palm Springs as Son participated in a junior golf tournament. The hotel itself was wonderful, but the food….Lord have mercy!

Meals are important to me. Yes, I am demanding. I have this irrational desire that my food taste good, and that it meet certain specifications. Namely, to be cooked, if it’s not a fruit or vegetable or an entree that’s meant to be consumed raw. Hello? Do I look like a large, carnivores jungle cat to you? Trust me, I don’t.

I like my burgers, medium to medium-well done. Same with my steak. And I said exactly that to our server. Very courteously, of course. Here’s what I got:

My mother made the mistake of ordering a plain, old medium cooked steak.

Her order practically ambled across the table. She had it sent back to the kitchen three times. Finally, it came back looking like this:

When she complained to the server, the server said, “I stood by the chef while he cooked it.”

Stupers do not make reliable eyewitnesses.

Alas, both the cook and each one of our servers were part of an intricate plot to serve up the worst food imaginable and contrary to the customers’ orders. Maybe they were celebrating “Opposite Day,” part of some strange stuper ritual, yet to be made public.

We quietly made our grievances known to the kindly hotel staff who eyed us sympathetically, but without remorse.

On the way back home, I stopped at a bakery for a loaf of bread. Being in a hurry, I forgot to ask the person assisting me to slice the loaf before handing it to me. When I did so, she looked at me as if I’d insisted she set the place on fire.

“You didn’t ask to have it sliced,” she responded testily.

“Yes, I know,” I replied. “Would you please slice it now?”

While I waited for her to slice the freaking bread, and watched her huff and puff over it, I remembered something. Please humor me, as I wax philosophical-like. I recalled an ancient parable about an elderly monk who slowly made his way along a dirt road. Suddenly a large man, in a huge hurry, pushed past the monk and knocked the old man down as he raced by, without a glance back. As a younger monk helped the elder one up, the old monk shouted after the man, “May you be happy all the days of your life!”

The young monk said, “What are you saying? Didn’t you see what he just did to you?”

The older monk replied, “Do you think he’d have done that if he’d been happy?”

Which brings me to my question of the day: do you think stupers are happy? I say true happiness comes from helping others, nurturing a grateful heart and using the enormous power of thought and consideration, all of which surpass stupers’ capabilities.

I ignored the rudeness of the miserable bakery worker, realizing unhappiness created her attitude. Once again, stupers serve as fine examples of how not to behave.

Think first, last and always.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Monumental Stupidity, Positive stupidity, Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 8 Comments »

May 7, 2008 by Keli.

From last time: Husband (H) innocently attempts to place a classified ad in the local town paper, which was recently purchased by a conglomerate. He is completely thwarted in his efforts by stuper-in-charge-of-classifieds, Crappyanna (C), whose job it is, not only to overcharge all persons wishing to place an ad, but to make no sense whatsoever while doing so.

Now for the conclusion:

H realized that C was a complete and utter idiot and that likely, the entire office was teeming with stupers (short, yet again, for terrifyingly stupid persons). The way he saw it, he had one of two choices: H could become unhinged and give in to his rapidly mounting frustration, fully dilated irritation and permit his head to commence spinning a la The Exorcist (insert theme song right here).

Perhaps then some pious, but bored soul from the Christian Science Reading Room across the street would lend a hand or maybe a member of the fire department around the corner would look into the window and realize that intervention was necessary. Or he could take option number two, which is what H did.

H: Let’s start all over again. Hi, my name is H. I want to place a one-day ad. Did I mention that I’m a private party?

C: But it says here you’re a….

H: I’m a freaking private party now!

C: $29.95

H: That’s still more than triple what I paid six months ago.

C: I don’t have a calculator with me.

H: Why is it $29.95?

C: Because you have seven lines.

H: What will it take before you charge less?

C: You can do five lines.

H: Okay. How much?

C: $27.95

Being married to a stupidity specialist, H has learned a few things. First, not to permit a stuper to cause annoyance, but rather search for humor in the irrational situation. If no humor can be located, realize that the stuper may be trying to tell you something.

H: Thank you for helping me to make up my mind. I know there’s a good reason for this. I don’t think I want to place this ad.

H left. He went to his office and placed a “Craig’s List ” ad on the Internet. The cost? Nothing. The gain? Within two days, the home was rented. Sometimes stupers do us a favor, unknowingly of course (what other way is there for them?). In this case, C pointed H in the right direction. Stupers do serve a purpose. All we have to do is take them and all their stupidity in stride.

Think and grow smart.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »

April 12, 2008 by Keli.

Okay, I’m wearing my full stuper-fighting, suit of armor, and I am actively recruiting a volunteer anti-stuper militia. Stupers (short, once again, for inexplicably stupid persons) have taken over my school district. I modestly think I should be admired for considering action since I have no child currently enrolled in said district and never have or will. (I’ve steadfastly refused to send my kids to my local public schools).

I live in a small town. In fact, my area consists of five adjacent tiny towns, each with a population hovering around 2000 persons. We have exactly two weekly newspapers that report noteworthy activities such as the local trout derby and the arrest of an errant jay-walker.

Once in a while, there are hard-hitting news stories such as the one appearing today. It detailed the onslaught of teacher layoffs and program cuts. The local high school alone is expected to see a cut of $400,000. Before anyone reaches for a hankie, let me tell you what the headline on the next page of this paper said:

“High School Superintendent’s Contract Above Industry Standards”

We have one public high school; the Stuperintendent is responsible for this solitary high school, consisting of 1100 students. This fellow is new to his job having been freshly wooed away from his former position of assistant superintendent of a junior high school in another city. His annual salary in his new position is $176,000. The California State Superintendent of Public Instruction who oversees all the schools in the state earns $184,000.

In urban areas, superintendents oversee several high schools along with primary and secondary schools. For instance, the energetic Superintendent in Bartow County, Georgia makes $161K. She’s responsible for 3 high schools, 4 middle schools, and roughly a dozen or so elementary schools. Do you see where I’m going with this, dearest readers? Excuse me while I unclench my teeth.

I actively sought stuper-fighting recruits after reading a quote in the same paper about the recent teacher layoffs and program cuts. This quote came from the same, new local Stuperintendent. He ignobly stated:

“Releasing a teacher because of financial crises is heart-sickening.”

What I found heart-sickening was his $176K annual salary plus his $500 monthly transportation allowance and his $10,000 relocation expenses (he just moved twenty-four miles to be closer to the school), to name a few of his perks. Did I mention that he gets full health benefits?

Here are a few interesting salaries:

Alabama Gov: Bob Riley, $113,000

Arizona Gov: Janet Napolitano, $95,000

Arkansas Gov: Mike Beebe, $81,000

California Gov: Arnold Schwarzenegger, $207,000 (gives salary back to state)

Colorado Gov: Bill Ritter, $90,000

and so on….

This begs the question of whether a local school superintendent who oversees one school has more responsibility than a state governor?

Someone who makes a positive difference in the lives of school kids is invaluable. But this someone should prove his worth before being paid a hefty salary.

If you’re interested in joining my volunteer militia, please provide me with the size of your suit of armor (they run petite to extra large); I’ll send the bill to the Stuperintendent.

Think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

*short for satisfaction from prominently stupid persons

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 6 Comments »

April 7, 2008 by Keli.

Stupers (short once more, for revealingly stupid persons) are completely unfazed about their blunders. Most likely because a blunder to them is simply a way of life.

Husband (H) and I entered an open house one afternoon as we were interested in a
possible purchase. Actually, H had already visited the home half an hour
earlier and spoken to the listing agent at the house in great detail about a possible
purchase of the home. He told the agent that he’d be back with his wife. So he
brought me.

I liked the house also, and now we both asked the perpetually smiling real estate agent some more questions (incessant smiling is sometimes a viable clue pointing to stupidity, but not reliably so, as many people smile out of sheer joy, not stupidity).

We left and returned a bit later with our kids. All of us liked the home.

After each of the three visits, the agent, a tall, personable fellow, in his early forties,
asked us whether we liked the home and, after each time, he was always glad to see us
back. Our interest in the house was unquestionable. Our experience was pleasant. H and I both thought we’d make an offer immediately.

After the third visit, we lingered and asked very specific questions, namely,

“Will the seller be available so that we may make an offer tonight?”

Suddenly, this affable agent said, blank smile intact, “I did tell you that the house is in escrow, right?”

Neither H nor I responded.

“Yeah, an offer was accepted last week, but I thought I’d hold it open anyway.”

Later I asked myself, (I thought I was an astute judge of character), how I didn’t see through the vacant Jack-in-the-Box type grin and the ever present giddiness.

Should we have:

A. Taken him to the nearest public square and arranged for a flogging;
B. Thanked him for holding the open house and left;
C. Asked him to donate his brain to science so that perhaps it could be studied for chemical imbalances that led to his sheer stupidity; or
D. Had one of us hold him down, while the other pummeled some sense into him.

In this case, I had to hold H back as he was a bit irritated over the waste of time and
energy. He asked the agent why he hadn’t “thought” (key word here) of revealing this
vital piece of information a little earlier. Fortunately for the agent, I, at this time, was
reading a book on utilizing Buddhist principles in everyday life and on cultivating
spiritual values like kindness, patience, understanding and compassion towards all without exception including, but not limited to, the idiots-at-large, so I stopped H from being fully expressive.

In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t. The realtor’s lackluster faculties needed to be blasted. The agent’s only reaction had been to shrug wordlessly, turn back into the house and lead other unsuspecting potential buyers on through the spacious rooms all the while holding his long forgotten “No Vacancy” sign behind his back.

It’s no wonder so many professionals dislike their jobs or are stressed out from their work. They’re operating at half speed. The professionals who do excel are thinking individuals who are aware and satisfied that they are doing their best and are intelligent enough to seek out work that they enjoy.

Great minds like to think.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 9 Comments »

March 4, 2008 by Keli.

The ideal doctor-patient relationship is one in which the two enthusiastically partner together to successfully solve the patient’s health issue(s). And everyone lives happily ever after.

However, this may not be the case if a stuper (short yet again, for an unfalteringly stupid person) is involved. This occurs when there is a physician whose ego is so enormous, the patient can barely squeeze into the room with him.

I’m certain there are cases where the patient can be troublesome, but based on my personal experience, I’ve found that most often, it’s the lack of an open mind (one of the character flaws of stupidity) on the doctor’s part that contributes to stupidity.

A few years ago, Sam, became ill with a serious bacterial infection. He went from doctor to doctor, searching for a cause and a cure. He ended up seeing a total of ten physicians before making progress. Doctors #1-9 were idiots.

The first doctor passed him onto a specialist, Dr. B. After examining Sam, Dr. B prescribed a medication. Sam did some research. He learned that certain food allergies could have contributed to his infection.

“Should I keep a food diary or stay away from certain foods?” Sam asked. “Would that help me?”

“You can eat whatever you want,” Dr. B assured him.

Sam’s condition worsened, and the medication gave him a severe reaction and pain. Dr. B cut down the dosage, but Sam saw little improvement.

To make this long story short. Sam became a nomadic patient, traveling from physician to physician; his health only became worse.

“I kept thinking there was something in my diet that caused my illness,” Sam recalled. “I mentioned this to Doctor #7 who was a renowned specialist at UCLA. He too told me it was not food related. When I continued to ask him questions about foods, I really rattled his chain. Literally. He wore a heavy gold chain around his neck, and every time he got nervous, he’d grab hold of it and start shaking the thing. Anyway, he had me take numerous tests to find out what I was suffering from. In the end, he said he believed it was a bacterial infection. Sheer genius.

“I told Doctor #8 that the medication was making me worse. He told me he’d seen hundreds of patients every week for years, and not one had any type of reaction that remotely resembled mine. He sent me to a specialist. This specialist wanted to operate. She said it was my only hope. The thought of going under the knife made my knees buckle! I decided to try going off the drug, and told the specialist what I was doing. She thought I was crazy, but said I could try it for one month, and then she’d operate.”

“As soon as I went off the medication, the severe pain and the side effects vanished. But I still had numerous other problems from the infection.”

It wasn’t until Doctor #10 that Sam made real progress.

“This physician told me about a diet that helped some of his patients. I went on the diet. My bacterial infection soon disappeared. It had been that simple.”

The average doctor spends no more than twenty minutes per patient. Why don’t more physicians allocate more time for analysis and understanding? Yes, dear readers, it’s stupidity’s wicked cousin, greed, steadfastly at work.

I hope the noble members of the medical field realize that I’m not pointing my finger at them, but at the practitioners who entered the field with good intentions, but who either never found their calling or lost it along the way. Intelligent physicians do not regard patients collectively, as a whole, but as individuals, each with his own unique reactions and needs. There are excellent doctors out there; finding them is the key to obtaining a happy relationship.

How to tell if a doctor is a stuper:

1. Wears too much jewelry (flaunting the way they spend fees is improper);
2. Unwilling to listen;
3. Closed minded;
4. Speaks in medical mumbo jumbo; and
5. Places ink on the feet of a pigeon to stamp prescription forms, ensuring that only an expert can decipher his mysterious medical code.

Thinking is a choice.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 8 Comments »

February 19, 2008 by Keli.

Confrontations with stupidity often occur in the workplace, one of the most vexing being the times we’re expected to stay awake during meetings of questionable merit and interminable length. Long and boring. But, there are ways to appear intelligent even while nodding off.

I’ve sat on several boards of directors for minuscule, but nonetheless worthy, organizations, as well as for my place of business. At one of these board (or is it bored?) meetings, I was once asked to give my opinion of the topic being bandied about. The subject matter was so absurdly tedious, that to this day, I am clueless as to what everyone was discussing. I’d tuned out.

“What do you think, Keli?” asked the President who sat, without blinking, in her high-back, leather, throne-like chair, giving me the feeling that she was rarely wrong.

She didn’t have to ask twice. Upon hearing my name, my pulse raced and little beads of perspiration formed on my forehead (fortunately, I wore wispy bangs at the time so without close examination, the sweat remained hidden beneath my hair). I don’t like to be caught unprepared. Especially when no one’s to blame, but myself. The setting suddenly appeared unreal, possessed of its own laws. I paused, as if carefully pondering, then replied, “I think this matter should be given greater thought before any decisions are made.”

The President nodded her head in approval; I had successfully extricated myself at no great cost, by a somewhat vague, non-committal response.

Changing the subject would have worked also, but that must be handled with greater skill as it could get out of hand should anyone suspect the true purpose behind the abrupt shift. Not easy to do in front of a weary audience eager for some real action.

I could have confessed that I’d drifted off into faraway mental frontiers, but that may have led to undesirable consequences as well as to my embarrassment, even though it was what I deserved. Or was it? For heaven’s sake, if these meetings moved along at a proper pace and were accompanied by palatable eats, who wouldn’t gladly give greater attention? Serving M&Ms or donuts does not promote good health or alertness. Delicately prepared hors d’oeuvres would keep me happily occupied and awake. Such meetings should not scrimp on sustenance.

In order to emerge unscathed from these situations, it’s important to carry an unfailing sense of self-assurance around, or at least appear to, as in my case. Had I folded, I surely would have been branded a stuper (short for an openly stupid person). Not being mentally present at a meeting should not be an impediment to being a successful participant.

Why not think?

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in My very own stupidity, Professional Stupidity | 5 Comments »

February 13, 2008 by Keli.

While listening to my college-attending child complain about a “moronic” professor, I regressed right back to my own school days and found myself wrinkling my nose in rancor as I recalled some of my nutty instructors. Out of almost fifty professors over a four year period, I had my share of stupers (short yet again, for observably stupid persons).

I took psychology 101 my first quarter and, oh, what an unwelcome introduction to a university course. My professor bore an uncanny physical resemblance to a hillbilly-mountain man, convicted felon type, who’d gotten all gussied up for a trip into town. Professor Nutcase appeared as if he hadn’t shaved or untangled his shoulder length locks in over a decade. He wore a heavy flannel work shirt and jeans on a daily basis, be the weather hot or cold, but had the presence (or was it absence?) of mind to balance out his outfit by foregoing shoes and socks. He paced the auditorium stage barefoot while he spoke.

But it wasn’t his slipshod physical appearance that tipped the scales of intelligence on the low side and repulsed students of delicate sensibilities. It was the fact that he muttered to the point of indistinction while he lectured, swallowing syllables and whole sentences. I resisted the urge to run frantically from student to student, yelling, “Did you get that?” I knew I’d be met by blank stares.

Professor N. did everything in his power to ensure that the few students in the lecture hall who actually listened as he mumbled could not even read his lips. He faced the floor as he paced, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he engulfed himself in smoke from his endless supply of cigarettes so that he moved about in a curtain of brown-gray vapor. These were the olden days, before indoor smoking was banned in public places. I took refuge in the detailed class lecture notes offered in the student store. Notes of this sort were for classes requiring a subtle form of an apology or peace offering to students to make up for less than stellar instructors.

After the first quarter, I learned there were professors that should be diligently avoided, like Dr. Nutcase. How then to determine which classes to take? A tip I found worthwhile was to seek out those courses which college athletes enrolled in. Classes with a heavy contingent of football players had particularly fine teachers and a manageable workload. These courses included: Speeches of American Presidents, Children’s Literature and Psychology of the Sexes.

Unfortunately, in order to fulfill the requirements for my major, I did get stuck with a few more stupers before graduating: Dr. Ihaveahugego, Dr. Idratherbeinthebahamas, and Dr. Ihatestudents. (Do note that each of their names began with the letter “I”). But I realized that sometimes even stupers provide a means to an end.

Think first, last and always.

Keli
Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 5 Comments »

January 31, 2008 by Keli.

I have to be bound and gagged before I listen to or view news reports. I can fill my head with rubbish quite well on my own, thank you. But I periodically sneak a peak when a ludicrous internet headline catches my attention before I am able to divert my eyes. Today’s headline came from an Associated Press (AP) news story and read:

“Hen Lays Eggs-tremely Rare Eggs”

Since I have hens who lay eggs, I was curious to discover what exactly constituted “rare eggs.” The news video showed a small, remote Mexican village and an astonished rural housewife who couldn’t understand why her hen laid green colored eggs.

To the majority of my 3.5 readers, this probably does seem a bit astonishing. But any chicken enthusiast, farmer or 4-H member knows that a certain breed of hen (Americauna or Araucauna) has a tendency to lay green or blue eggs. In fact, I have some green eggs sitting out in my coop this very minute.

The photo below shows my eggs. However, I’m afraid that my amateur photography and inexpensive camera do not do the green shade of the eggs justice. You’ll have to take my word for it. Picture the underside of a leaf - a light green hue. Just like these eggs.

Shall I call the AP news service to take a gander at my eggs? Perhaps I can sell movie rights. I can see the headline now:

“The egg phenomena continues: Eggs-traordinary hen discovered in California coop”

I value accuracy and proper reporting; consequently, this story almost gave me a panic attack. This ridiculous news reporter and her cohorts obviously did no research. If they weren’t stupers (short for incomparably stupid persons), they were doing a pretty darn good imitation. Just a few strokes of the keys and a Google search would have revealed that green eggs are no rarity.

I hope you don’t mind, intelligent readers; I had to share this half-witted AP news story with somebody. If you’d like to read it for yourselves, here it is:

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/?rn=3906861&cl=6162168&ch=4226726&src=news

I can’t help but wonder how often research-free reporting takes place in larger, more consequential stories.

Think.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity | 4 Comments »

January 25, 2008 by Keli.

Stupidity not only wastes time, energy and brain cells, it squanders earth’s resources as well. To wit: paper.

How long should a simple store receipt be? A few inches in length, perhaps? How about a foot long? A yard, you say, that arrives in three separate parts? I can hear Sears’ company representatives heartily applauding those of you who agreed with this last choice because that’s exactly what they provided as evidenced by my actual photo below:

When I purchased a single gift certificate, even the sales associate was appalled at the nearly interminable receipt. He said,

“What a waste of paper! Can you believe that last week’s receipts were double this length?”

I carefully examined said paperwork for a clue as to the reason behind the unprovoked elongation. A full three and one-half inches was devoted to my actual transaction. The rest read like a one way conversation with a store mannequin, if mannequins could talk, and if they were bilingual in English and Spanish.

“We value your feedback,” took almost four inches; “Satisfaction guaranteed,” took another four inches. The second two pages were coupons that took more than two feet to list all the items for which the discounts could not be used.

I suppose if I regarded this extended piece of paper as a kind of letter from Sears to its customers, I could be appeased. But even then, the length could be reduced:

Dear Valuable Sears Customer,

We hope you are happy with your purchase. If you’re not, please save your receipt and return or exchange the item within 90 days. If you are inclined to and over the age of 18, please give us your feedback at www.searsfeedback.com. Also, to reward you for shopping at Sears, you may use this letter as a 15% coupon on kids’ clothes and a 20% coupon on adults’ clothes. Many, many, many items are excluded from these coupons, but you are welcome to attempt to find something that is not. You have until 1/31/08 to make these purchases. Thank you ever so much.

Very truly yours,

Sears

The above note could have been printed on a six-inch long receipt. It easily could include the letter plus the transaction information. The paperwork Sears provided me alone, could have been used on six customers.

Stupidity is not efficient or effective. There is little one can do with idiocy of this ilk other than to write a letter to the executive office and hope it rings a little bell that awakens an otherwise dormant mind.

Think.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 6 Comments »