As I am strolling up and down the aisles, I get near the end of White Chicks Yo hold my poodle shirt and there’s a chap stocking the end shelves. I watch as a very elderly gentleman goes up and asks where a certain product is. The guy stocking shelves tosses the cans that were in his hand back into the box and says I’ll show you this time, but I’m not going to do your shopping for you, you need to open your eyes. I went, sons in tow, to the front of the store. Young lady is standing by the office door texting.
She’s ignoring me even after I said ‘excuse me’. Finally she looks and I ask for the White Chicks Yo hold my poodle shirt. Oh, he’s on the floor somewhere. So I ask her to page him for me. She can’t do that because she’s on her break. I ended my letter with the observation that this was obviously a mis-managed store, I was retired, I had experience in store operations and for $1000 a week for a six week contract I’d go in and clean the place out of the deadwood and get it operating as it should be. I gave them my phone number.