Work kept me busy so I haven’t updated in a while. But let me entertain you with some brilliant customer complaint made by my G (this was made in his pre J days) to Mr. Ted Baker for their unsatisfactory service. I never knew the full story, only that he made this complaint some time ago, until I read this a few days back. Sit back, relax, get some crisps as you read along and enjoy. I know it’s a cheat post, but, at least it’s something worth your while. 🙂
I hope you are well. I had a lovely day today Ted: the weather wasn’t nice, but I’ve got a week off work, money in my pocket, and a spring in my step. Everyday in the newspapers I read about the abysmal condition of the economy, so I thought I would share some of my good feeling (and cash) by treating myself to some good old fashioned retail therapy. An excellent objective I am sure you’ll agree Ted, but unfortunately I wasn’t able to share some of my hard earned pounds with you today, even though I really wanted to. “Why’s that B@bs?” you may ask, and I’m glad you have. Ted, let me tell you a story of what happened to me today.
On December 30th 2009 I walked into your Covent Garden branch and fell in love with one of your suits. You may know it. Actually, I hope you do know it as you apparently designed it, though no doubt the particular one I saw was sewn together by one of our hard-working Chinese cousins. They’re such an industrious people, aren’t they? Anyway, the suit in question is a lovely three piece, grey, and is part of this season’s range. It’s called “Pashion”, which as you know Ted, is an amalgamation of “passion” and “fashion”. Very clever.
A lovely young man called Ken helped me out. Ken was charming and helpful, very much like a young Will Smith, or an old Gary Coleman. Since I had just spent a ton of money on Christmas presents and only received socks in return, I didn’t have quite enough funds for all three items of the suit, which were priced individually.
“No problem,” said Ken, “They are all sold separately so just buy what you want now and just come back for the third item when you get your next pay cheque.” See, I told you he was helpful.
I considered buying just the waistcoat and the jacket, but then realised my front bottom would probably be on show. Thus, I chose the waistcoat and trousers, thinking that I would only take the jacket off when I was out later in a nightclub anyway. I handed over my Visa and they were soon mine, all mine. I looked at the jacket straight in the button and tearfully promised him I would return someday soon.
Oh Ted. That New Year’s Eve I felt like Cinderella in my new suit. I dazzled and radiated, even though I missed the jacket and my arms felt a bit cold.
Let’s fast forward now to today: February 24th 2010. I had a week off work so I decided to return and claim my prize. I had money to burn, and luckily I had kept my receipt in case I needed help off one of your staff finding the jacket I wanted. In I walked, spotted a helpful looking chap (though I didn’t care for his stubble), pulled out my receipt, and he immediately directed me to the jacket I wanted. Great.
“I’ll take it!” I announced. However, that’s where my troubles began.
You see, he wouldn’t let me buy the jacket. To my confusion he said the jacket was not to be sold separately, and if I wanted it I would have to purchase the three piece suit as a whole. I was puzzled. I explained that I had been told I could come back for the jacket, but unfortunately he had never heard of “Ken” whose once precious name was printed on my receipt.
“Can I buy the trousers separately?”
“Can I buy the waistcoat separately?”
“Can I buy the jacket separately?”
Ted, I honestly thought he was joking. I couldn’t understand why the store had such a ridiculous policy, and I couldn’t understand why if this was the case had the assistant told me that the jacket was the one item I would not be able to return for. I asked to see his manager, but he wouldn’t let me claiming the manager was too busy. I asked could I return the suit then, he said it wasn’t possible because I had already worn and altered it.
So there I was. In possession of an incomplete suit which I couldn’t complete even though I had the money right there in my grubby little hand. I had no choice. I walked out of the shop, down Covent Garden, and into the premises of a lovely little designer called Agnes B. The gentleman who helped me there was again very helpful, although he too had that designer stubble look which I’ve always associated with tramps. Like a gay couple picking out new clothes for their upcoming civil partnership ceremony, we looked through their range and discovered a nice grey jacket that was almost identical to the one I wanted to originally buy. You remember that jacket don’t you Ted? It was the one in your shop that your staff refused to sell me. I paid for my new Agnes B jacket. It wasn’t cheap at about three hundred of our English pounds, but I was happy with my purchase, so happy in fact that I spent another two hundred there and then on a couple of shirts to go with it.
That’s my story. I’ve always had a soft spot for you Ted, although I have to say I think the mobile phone thing you’re doing now is probably misguided (I have an iPhone since you asked; it was a gift from a woman who smelled of dogs). However, this has soured things for me a bit with you. When I bought the first two pieces of that suit I felt like I’d just spent a night with Cheryl Cole. When you refused to sell me the jacket despite being originally told that I could, I felt like Cheryl had rang me the next day to tell me that she had the clap and Ashley knew where I lived.
I look forward to hearing from you either by email or by phone: 0xxx9 6xxxx6.
So there you go. That earned him a lunch at the Tedquarters with Ted Baker’s Brand Communications Director.
But he still didn’t get the jacket that he wanted. I think . 🙂 Sorry, I was wrong in saying that. He have them the jacket for free and a whole lotta freebies! 😀 That’s amazing, Mr. Ted! Updated