Best Buy is like the diner of consumer goods. From high tech washing machines, flat screen TVs to super computers the store is a marvel of product intrigue, as varied as yard-long menus of meat loaf, burgers, fries and coq au vin at a highway pit stop.

I went recently to the local Best Buy in search of a new desktop, since my Gateway Media Center finally failed in the flush of an overtaxed hard drive-- overwhelmed perhaps by too many caustic restaurant reviews.

I settled on the sleek all in one Sony Vaio--no wires, no tower, all wrapped into one neat package with enough flashy gadgetry as awesome as the tasting menu at Hugo’s.

I’ve been a frequent shopper at Best Buy in the last several months, filling my new house with all sorts of consumer goods like jazzy looking washing machines and dryers, LCD TVs, video cables, surround sound and all the doodads of consumer overspending.

And I have to admit that each time I go to the Mall, which isn’t all that often, I go to the Food Hall first, as though sustenance is required before encountering a critical mass of shoppers that flood this place at all hours.

Yes, I’m addicted to Panda Express, and to some small measure Best Buy.

Without fail I order the orange chicken and the sweet and sour pork at Panda Express. I shun the rice and opt for a serving of vegetables, in a vain attempt at healthy eating. Of course their food is an insult to Chinese cuisine, and I don’t really want to know what I’m eating. But it satisfies my ineluctable sweet tooth, and I wash the meal down with a 32-oz paper cup of diet Coke and feel mighty awful afterwards.

When I finally made it to Best Buy and selected my computer, I learned that it was not in stock at the store but would be delivered from their warehouse within 7 days.

On that seventh day no large package appeared at my door step so I called the number printed on my Order Fulfillment receipt.

I knew immediately by the echo on the line and the voice of the phone clerk sounding as though she were talking through a tin can that I had reached a call center, probably somewhere in the Far East where clearly spoken English is not a natural event.

I was asked various questions, as though the clerk was reading from a script. In fact whenever I was able to get a question in edgewise, there was silence on the phone because the person obviously didn’t understand a word I said. Perhaps their voice recognition system was slow to translate my queries.

Finally I was informed that my particular order had not been updated and no other information was forthcoming. I was advised to call back the next day. And I did.

I’m now convinced that there are no real people at the other end of the line there but rather a robotic voice with a preprogrammed vocabulary.

Amidst the crackling and echos I was informed—without a tick of emotion or remorse-- that my order was canceled due to “lack of interest.” Interest? Did the voice recording mean availability?

Disappointed, no doubt, I inquired whether the purchase would be credited on my credit card. Again there was a long silence, giving their voice monitoring system time to translate, I suppose, until I was told that it would take 20 days for a credit to come through.

Twenty days? By that time I’d have to pay the bill on my credit card, incur the $2000 cost of the computer on my own while waiting for the robot to credit my account if it ever would.

I called the store to see if they could help .After going through a round of press 1 press 2 press 3, I got a live voice to whom I explained my situation. I was shuffled to their customer service department. Would local assistance come to the rescue?

Or would I have to make a personal appearance at the store preceded by a Panda Express feast?

The customer service manager that I spoke to was taken aback by my experience, questioning the 20-day period in particular to get my refund.

Can you help? I asked, “Because so far my experience at Best Buy has been the Worst Buy”

“Not really,” was the response, ignoring my clever one-liner

“Once it’s at Order Fulfillment it’s out of our hands. It’s a corporate matter.”

Then I offered this solution. That I would call up American Express, on which this purchase was charged, dispute the purchase and have it cancelled on my account until it could be rectified.

“That won’t do at all,” the customer service rep warned. "Because then you’ll owe us money once we finally credit your card."

Now I owed Best Buy money?
.
I realize I have no recourse left but to go to the store to make a royal fuss, but not without fortifying myself first with a comforting meal at Panda Express, where I’ll have the extra hot and spicy version of my favorite dishes in order to buttress an acid tongue with which to rustle some feathers at Worst Buy.

PS: I have since found the exact same computer at Circuit City online, for $100 less, which I ordered yesterday and informed by email this morning that it’s already been shipped.

Panda Express, it might be a while until I visit you again.

E-mail this entry to a friend