The Point of No Return

Recently I returned an ill-conceived purchase to a large chain store. (OK, it was Target.) The cashier was polite to me, but I still felt uncomfortable about the whole transaction. She wanted to know the reason for the return; I’m sure the store keeps records and she had to ask that. I wasn’t sure what to say: “I thought I would look OK in this, but it was horribly unflattering?” “I didn’t want to try it on in your dressing room because last time I went in there the walls collapsed and I was lucky to escape without a fractured skull?” (Yes, that actually happened. The Target fitting rooms shouldn’t actually be called rooms. The whole setup is like a house of cards. I’m not sure how the walls stay up.)

c28cd382f5579f8fbc5790606933c652At Lake Forest Book Store, we don’t ask people why they’re returning something — although they sometimes feel duty-bound to tell us. Actually, we don’t get many returns. I don’t have the data, but I’d guess that other kinds of stores get many more returns than bookstores do. People probably think they’re going to read (or regift) that copy of The Luminaries someday. We are quite generous with our return policy. We don’t even require that the book was originally purchased at our store, as long as the customer just wants to exchange it for another book. Most people are pleasantly surprised at how accommodating we are. The most common reason people bring books back is that they’re duplicates. I often encourage customers to buy actual books as ¬†gifts, rather than gift cards. “Think of the book as a more personal version of a gift card,” I say. “They can always bring it back.”

cvr9780743227445_9780743227445_lgMaybe I shouldn’t say “always”, because over the years some people have taken me quite literally:

  • An elderly woman returned a dog-eared copy of one of Philippa Gregory’s books, saying she found it “filthy”. Apparently she needed to read it very thoroughly to determine just how offensive it was. I wondered if she also asks for refunds on restaurant meals after she has eaten them.
  • A man brought back a copy of a travel guide to London, claiming he didn’t need it because his trip was canceled. I guess this cancellation happened after he circled restaurants, hotels, and sightseeing spots he planned to visit.
  • A woman returned the hardcover copy of Team of Rivals (publication date: 2005) in 2013, wanting to exchange it for the paperback edition.cvr9780684824901_9780684824901_lg
  • A customer lugged in two large shopping bags full of old, yellowed mass market paperbacks from the previous century, claiming they were all purchased from our store. When I pointed out that the public library down the street would accept them as donations, she asked if I would drop them off there on my way home from work.
  • People often return books they received as gifts, look around the store for a while, and then ask for a credit because there’s nothing they want to buy. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” as Jerry Seinfeld would say, but really? In the whole store, there isn’t ONE irresistible book? I will never understand that.
  • A mother returned a children’s paperback book ($3.99), announcing that it was much cheaper at Amazon ($3.59).
  • A very well-dressed woman brought in a pile of coffee table books (some recently published, some not so recently published), because she was “trying to reduce clutter” in her newly redecorated home.

These incidents, thank goodness, are few and far between. Now I have to head out to the local grocery store to return the strawberries I bought yesterday that are already moldy. Do you think they’ll replace them?