The Garage Corner Blog: The Online Return Nightmare

Hey folks, welcome back to the Garage Corner.

I bought a pair of work boots online a couple of weeks ago. They arrived in a plastic bag, I pulled them out, tried them on, and realized they were two sizes too small. My toes were curled up like cocktail shrimp. No big deal, right? I'll just return them.

That is when the odyssey began.

In the old days, if a product didn't fit, you put it back in your truck, drove down to the store, and handed it to a human being behind a counter. You looked them in the eye, said, "These pinch my feet," and they handed you the correct size or gave you your cash back. The whole transaction took four minutes, and you might even have a nice chat about the weather.

Now? To return a pair of boots, you have to initiate a "digital return protocol" on a website. They send an email with a QR code. Then they tell you that you need to print out a specialized shipping label.

Folks, I don't own a printer. I haven't owned a printer since 2008 because every time you actually need to use one, the black ink cartridge is bone dry, and the machine goes on strike because it can’t find the magenta ink. Why do I need magenta ink to print a black-and-white barcode?

So, I had to drive to an office supply store just to pay two dollars to print a piece of paper. Then I had to find a cardboard box, because heaven forbid you send it back in the original bag. Then I had to buy a roll of packing tape, tape the box shut, drive across town to a specific shipping locker, scan the code, and stuff the box into a metal slot like I was dropping off top-secret government documents.

I spent two hours, twelve dollars in gas and supplies, and three years of my sanity just to send back a product that shouldn't have been wrong in the first place. And they call this "the convenience of shopping from home!"

We are doing all the labor for these multi-billion-dollar corporations. We are the warehouse workers, the packaging department, and the delivery drivers. They cut out the brick-and-mortar stores to save themselves money, and they pushed all the work onto our kitchen tables.

Convenience isn't sitting on your couch staring at a tracking number for six days, wondering if your refund is ever going to hit your bank account. Convenience is walking into a local shop, shaking hands with the owner, and walking out with a product that actually works.

So do yourself a favor. Skip the digital cart. Drive down to a local business in your town. Buy your boots, your tools, or your hardware from a physical store. Support a neighbor, save yourself a trip to the shipping locker, and leave the packing tape on the shelf.

Until next time, shop local, buy tangible, and keep your printer in the trash.