We went to the pet store to buy a Thunder Shirt for my uncle's dog, Sammy.
We were approached by an elderly slave who helped us out. She opened the box and demonstrated (using her arm) how to secure the product.
Afterword, she slipped it back into its box and reached up to take down an unopened box for us to buy.
Mom: Oh no, don't worry about that. The opened box is fine.
I think we stunned the lady. It took a few seconds to form a coherent sentence, and then all she could do was emphasize that if there was any problem at all with the shirt, to bring it back for a return.
And no, we didn't return it. My uncle was happy with it and Sammy the dog is enjoying the 'opened' Thunder Shirt just fine.
We ordered a hair dryer from a catalog when I was a little girl -- pre retail hell. The first time we used it, it worked just fine. The second time we used it -- FZZZT! and some smoke.
Mom called customer service and explained (nicely) that the hair dryer had been defective and died on the second use.
She reported to me, later, that the guy got real quiet for a few heartbeats.
Customer Service Gentleman: *cautiously* Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like a replacement?
Mom: That would be wonderful! Thank you!
The transaction was swift, smooth, and painless. We got the new hair dryer for free, and it lasted for years. She submitted a glowing review of his professional, polite, and excellent service.
With a grin and a wink to me, she told me that it was obvious the poor man was used to being screamed at. "If you treat them nicely, they will go above and beyond for you."
And with that lesson, I was good to retail slaves even before I experienced their hell firsthand.
May All Your Customers be nice,