Fried at Fry's--A Cautionary Tale

This Sunday against my better judgment I allowed my sister to persuade me to accompany her on one of her diligent errand fests. She brandishes receipts for returns, coupons for specials, lists, color swatches, and recipes. Marveling at her determination and organization, I go along for the ride with really nothing to accomplish. Of course, it didn’t go smoothly. A time-sucking trip to a new Fry’s Electronics coupled with a cart-dodging visit to the United Nations building, which most of us have nicknamed WalMart, can only end in dismay. I once again declared a vow to never venture amongst the others again. “I can’t just have a normal shopping or restaurant experience,” I declared. For once, sister Jennifer agreed rather than putting it off to my paranoid perception. “That’s true. What is it?” she asked with a look of consternation. If only I knew. As we parted ways, Jennifer remarked, “Next time let’s get together for a root canal.” Anyway, the Fry’s experience inspired me to compose and send the following letter to corporate headquarters:

Recently my sister and I decided to go to Fry’s, the Alpharetta, Georgia, location. She was in search of an office chair and several other items. It was my first visit and my last! I think I can say the same for my sister. The chair that she chose from the floor display was no longer available. The clerks, if findable, were nice enough, but seemed surprised to be there—not much product knowledge, or if they possessed it, they weren’t sharing. I found the DVD of the movie "Office Space" for $7.99, but when I tried to purchase it, the item rang up for twice as much. The cashier called a manager over who told her he couldn’t make any revisions exceeding $5. Come on corporate; loosen the reins; the horse is dying! Ever heard the saying, “Penny wise; but pound foolish”?

Said cashier informed us that she would be right back and disappeared into the belly of the beast. After about fifteen minutes, we had just about decided to leave when she returned and asked for my phone number and name, and then once again disappeared into the abyss. After another quarter of an hour we summoned a manager who vowed to find the long-lost cashier. He too disappeared, actually never to be seen again. Once more, we discussed leaving, but my sister vowed we had invested too much time to do so. She went on a search for the cashier, and I admit, I was worried that she might also permanently vanish. She returned. Together we consumed a bag of cashews--slowly. The cashier, after forty minutes returned with apologies that she had to get about ten managers to sign off for the price clearly marked on the movie. I decided not to buy half of my other selections having had the time for multiple cases of “buyer’s remorse.”

My sister asked where she could make a complaint and was directed to Customer Service. Oh but you have to leave the building and re-enter to get to customer service because once you check out—if you’re still amongst the living—“you can’t get there from here.”

Goodbye and Good luck Fry’s. You’re going to need it!

A very short-term new and now former customer


When I Googled for Fry’s Web site, I was amused but not surprised when one of the first hits read, “Fry’s SUCKS!” This man actually devoted a Web site to his justifiable anger at the franchise. Ironically, this very afternoon, Jack called on his way home from work to tell me he was stopping off at Fry’s. “Do you not know that I just sent their corporate offices a complaining letter?” I asked. “That place is reminiscent of Nazi Headquarters. The cashier station is like something from ‘A Wrinkle in Time!’ It’s ORWELLIAN!”

“Orwellian,” Jack repeated with a laugh. “Don't worry. If they ask me if I know you, I’ll deny everything.”