Let The Buyer Beware.
Maybe I should get that tattooed on my texting finger.
You know they saw me coming. It’s called Bait and
Switch—advertising one thing and swapping it out for something else. It’s not
the world’s oldest profession but it’s about as honorable. I’m not excusing
myself. Like I said, I was in a funk, which led to online scrolling and the
next thing you know, I took the bait hook, line, and sinker. In my defense, their
webpage did look professional. I mean, it looked good. And it sounded good. Therefore,
I surmised, it must be good.
No. It was not good.
Even though their array of quilts were truly
beautiful, I was even more impressed by the stunning 4.86 stars out of 5 they
earned, drawn from 421 happy clients. See? I read the reviews. I’m a careful
shopper. Also, the description was written in impeccable English, something I’ve
learned to check before I click the “Pay” button. Guess I can’t count on that
anymore, not with the rise of AI. Finally, like it was a seal of approval, they
boasted that their custom pieces were from “an American quilt and patchwork
design company” with a mailing address here in the states. Made in America.
That’s good, right?
See the previous comment. No. It was not good.
I’m usually a lot more suspicious than you might think,
having learned from my many mistakes. Sadly, the pathetic printed replica of a
quilt I thought I was ordering was probably the fourth or fifth scam I’ve
fallen for in the last four years. Remember those platypus socks I ordered last
year? When I complained that the supersized feet were so roomy I could use them
to carry groceries, they offered me five bucks if I’d just keep them. I tried
to donate them to Goodwill, but they refused to take them and told me people
don’t have feet shaped like that. Six! This is the sixth fraud I’ve been
victimized by. I forgot about the weird sandals I got in the mail once—wrong
style, wrong size. Other than that, they were perfect.
I would say it’s my own fault, considering how I didn’t
notice their two full pages of fine print until I went searching for them after
a 5” x 8” envelope with my “table runner” arrived in the mail. That’s what I
get for not realizing a “design company” might substitute photographs of real
quilts in their advertising and cover their butts with the warning that “there
may be up to a twenty percent variation in color, pattern, binding, and
stitching compared to the sample photos due to the production process.” I mean,
seriously. It was just too many words to try to understand.
Possibly it was a math problem. Twenty percent variation
in all four parts of their “production process” means the final product is
eighty percent different than what was promised. I’d say the carefully crafted
piece they sent was perhaps twenty percent of what I expected. Now I get it.
They lied.
So, I complained and now we’re in negotiations via PayPal.
The quilt company appreciates my feedback and understands my “concerns about
the design and quality of the product” they sold me. But rather than refund my
money, “as a token” of their appreciation for my “understanding and patience”
they’ve offered me a thirty percent discount on my next purchase.
How stupid do they think I am?
It’s a rhetorical question. Geez.
I’m probably making too much out of this. After all, I’ve
ordered a lot of things online that have been okay, especially during the last
four years. So what if the suitcases I’ve purchased are better suited to doll
clothes than mine? At least they fit in my truck when I travel. And those
headphones I just bought for my cellphone? Sure, there’s a bit of a buzz in the
background while I’m talking to people, but it’s only on my end. No one else is
complaining. I’ll admit I thought I was buying actual sofa pillows that one
time, not just empty pillow covers. But after I went to the store and bought
pillows to shove inside them, everything worked out fine.
All in all, I think we’ve
learned a good lesson here. Read the fine print. Sleep on it before deciding. Fight
for your refunds. Don’t fall for the thirty percent good customer discount. Return
to brick and mortar shopping. Actual therapy is superior to retail . . . wait. Is
that the doorbell?
My Etsy order just arrived!
