I suppose I should explain. Some months ago, I went into Game Crazy with a stack of games that I intended to trade in for some meager dollar value, and put that amount towards a copy of MAG for the PS3.
I did this and took the game home, only to realize that I was not going to have the kind of time I’d like to spend on a game like that, and thought better of the decision. I took the game back the next day, un-opened, and returned it. Initially, I wanted cash, but the guy said that because a part of it was paid for with trade-ins, that I would only be able to recieve a credit at the store, which I could come back anytime and spend on whatever game stuff I wanted.
Fine, I thought, this seems like a fairly normal policy, and left.
I should have got something else that day.
Jump to last week, when we get a call from the local store saying to come in and use our credit, because, “this store is closing”, as part of the larger nation-wide closure of all Game Crazy locations. Great. No problem. Headed in there two days before the supposed date of store closure.
This is where the real fun happens. We arrive only to find that doors were locked, and they’d decided to close the place two days earlier than they’d told us over the phone. Not much else to do other than call the corporate office and find out how we got our 60 bucks back, or could still spend that credit on a game.
The lady on the other line proceeded to say this:
“I’m sorry sir…we show that you got cash back the day you returned your game and never had a credit.”
“But, the guy told us that day that we couldn’t do it for cash, and that we HAD to have it as a credit.”
“Well sir, that is not what our records show. There is no way to prove your story.”
“It’s not a story…they simply did not give me cash, and called us earlier this week to say to come in and spend our credit before the store closed. Why would they call me and tell me we had a credit if that money was given to us in cash?”
“Well, all I know, sir, is that you received 60 dollars in cash after the return of MAG.”
“So you’re telling me that yer keeping my 60 bucks.”
“I suppose I am, sir.”
I wanted to say terrible words. I just hung up instead.
So there you have it. No recourse, no options, no nothing. I know it’s just 60 bones and I should just move on. But it’s hard. I’m pissed. I want to poop in her coffee. I want to wrap her cat in tin foil and hurl it from a high place. I want to buy MAG back and then beat her with it.
If there’s a moral to this story, it has yet to make it’s current location known.