Three weeks ago, Frida took me out to Westco in Dianella to buy me some cool
new clothes so that I could get laid. We picked out some black jeans, a
soft black shirt, and a reversible black jacket.

As I handed over my credit card to pay for my clothes, I noticed a small
placard next to the cash register which stated, "Westco's clothing is of the
highest quality. Purchases can be made confidently. No refunds except when
goods are defective." I snickered and turned to Frida, translating the
message into what I thought it really meant. "Our shit is so good that even
if you want to return it, you won't be able to."

The checkout girl cheerfully swiped my credit card, bagged my clothes, and
kissed my poor ass goodbye.

For the next two weeks, I wore my clothes out to clubs and bars. The black
jeans, soft black shirt, and reversible jacket were a moderate success with
the girls.

On an exceptionally cool and windy evening, as I was walking to a club in
Northbridge, I tried zipping up my jacket and the bottom of the zipper tore
away from the fabric. It was only with concentrated patience and exacting
manipulation of my fingers that I was able to zip up my jacket and shield
myself from the biting cold. And I knew that, because of how the zipper was
ripping from the fabric of the jacket, the damage would only get worse over
time.

Disappointed with the "highest quality" jacket that was ripping apart after
only three weeks of light usage, I found my receipt and stopped by another,
more conveniently located Westco on the way to work to see if I could
replace my jacket with a new one.

Now, I understand that if you plan on exchanging an article of clothing,
it's probably best not to be wearing it when you bring it back. The
accepted rule when returning an item to a retail store is to neatly fold it
and place it back into a store bag, to somehow hide the fact that you have
worn it. But doing that just seemed silly. I was ready to admit that I had
been wearing the jacket since the torn zipper could only have been caused by
someone who had been wearing it. I did consider pretending that I had
purchased the jacket damaged, but it was obvious that it had been worn. So
I walked into Westco wearing the jacket. Besides, Australians as a whole
have proven to be an easy-going bunch, so I didn't think it was such a big
deal.

I approached a nicely-shaped but pale-skinned girl with long, straight red
hair at the counter.

"Can I help you?" she said, smiling.

"I hope so. I bought this jacket from one of your other stores about three
weeks ago. Here is the receipt." I then produced the white register
receipt which had been neatly stapled to my yellow credit card receipt.
"I've only had the jacket a few weeks and the zipper is starting to rip
off." I then lifted up the corner of the jacket so she could take a closer
look.

"Well, you're wearing the jacket."

"Does that matter?"

"Yes, I'm not going to be able to help you because you're wearing the
jacket."

"Of course I'm wearing the jacket. I've been wearing the jacket for three
weeks. And I'm bringing it in because it's falling apart."

"I'm not going to be able to help you because you came into the store
wearing the jacket."

"I never thought it would be such an issue."

"Well it is." She had a smile on her face the whole time. I wanted to wipe
it off her face with a clenched fist. "I'm not going to help you because
you came into the store wearing the jacket. If this was my store, I
wouldn't even be talking to you."

At this point, I was pretty sure this woman was a tight-ass with serious
control issues and that nothing short of anal penetration by Dennis Rodman
would loosen her up. But I tried to reason with her.

"When people buy clothes from your store, do you expect them not to wear
them? Do you think clothes get damaged while they're sitting on a hangar in
the closet?"

"It doesn't matter. You wore the jacket into my store."

"When your car needs work, does your mechanic refuse to work on it because
you drove it there?"

She didn't seem to appreciate that clever remark.

"You'll have to go back to the other store. Where'd you get it from?" She
slid her sickly, pale hand across the counter to my receipt. "Dianella?
I'm actually going to call them right now and let them know that you wore
the jacket into my store so that you won't be able to return it there
either."

OK, she was going out of her way to be a bitch, and I was seriously starting
to get pissed off. But I had to restrain myself and hope that she would not
call the other store. There was nothing else I could say.

"Thanks," I said with a nodding head and a sarcastic sneer.

"No problem," she said smiling, with an equal amount of sarcasm, as I turned
to leave. She actually had the nerve to shoot sarcasm back at me. On the
way out, I "accidentally" knocked a row of hanging women's sundresses off
the rack and onto the floor with my shoulder.

All I could do was hope that she would not call the other store and go there
the next day to try and make the exchange. I went home and studied the
Westco Refund Policy form which came with the original purchase. I wanted
to know it forwards and backwards so that I could use it to support my case
And there it was, in black and white, "Westco will always refund, on the
spot, if garments sold did not do what they were supposed to." And the
zipper no longer did what it was supposed to do.

The next morning, I neatly folded up my jacket and placed it into a Westco
bag. I walked into the Westco store in Dianella with the happiest,
friendliest expression that my face could produce. Fortunately, the girl at
the counter was the same girl that I had originally purchased my clothes
from.

"Hi. I was in here about three weeks ago and I bought a bunch of stuff. I
think you were the one who helped me. Do you remember me?"

"Yes," she said smiling. A good sign.

"Well, the jacket that I bought is falling apart, and I was wondering if I
could exchange it for a new one. I have the receipt."

"I'll have to get my manager for this. Just one second."

Shit. This means that the bitch from the other store probably called. Or
maybe it just means that this girl is so hopelessly incompetent that she
can't do an product exchange by herself.

"Can I help you?" asked Diana, the blank-faced manager. I could tell by the
expression on her face that she had received the phone call.

"Yes. I purchased this jacket from this store about three weeks ago. I
have the receipt."

"Did you go into the Hay St. store and try to return this yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Well, we got a phone call from there and they instructed us not to do the
exchange."

"Who was it who called?

"I don't know. I didn't get a name. They said that you wore the jacket
into the store. And I'm just following orders."

"Can I have the number to a supervisor or customer service line?"

"No we don't have numbers for those. Let me call a supervisor and see if
she's at one of the other stores."

She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and asked for a Toni. She spoke
quietly so that I wouldn't be able to hear. Obviously not quietly enough.

"Hi, Toni. Did you get a call about a customer who tried to return a jacket
that he wore into the store?... Kath called from Hay St. and told us that
we weren't supposed to process the exchange for him."

Aha! Kath! The bitch has a name!

"Well he's here with the jacket, and he wants to know if he can exchange it
for a new one.... OK."

She hung up the phone and told me that Toni would call back in a minute. So
I stood there. An awkward silence. Then I saw the placard near the cash
register again. "Westco's clothing is of the highest quality. Purchases
can be made confidently. No refunds except when goods are defective."

A waited in the store for a few minutes, passing the time by rubbing the
nipples on the plastic female torsos all around the store.

Toni called back and told Diana to go ahead with the exchange. But a quick
check of the store's inventory revealed that they no longer had any jackets
in stock. Toni checked her store and said that she would keep the jacket on
hold at the Westco in Kingsway, which is apparently too damn far for me to
get over there to make the exchange.

I called the Kingsway store this afternoon. After she answered the phone
with "Hello!", I asked the clueless salesperson if she ship the jacket to
the Dianella store. She said she would see what she could do on Monday
morning.

Hopefully, by sometime next week, I should have my new jacket. If not, I'm
sure you'll be hearing about it.

Moral of this story: Follow accepted rules. Ignore common sense. And don't
shop at Westco.

Jeff