The Mail Center is running a little low on charm

I meant to write about this when it happened because I was PISSSSSSED and then life got in the way and what can you do.

But I need to write about it because it was so egregiously bad that Nick Fowler was even like, man, that was bad.

I went to the Mail Center on Madison in Midtown to ship a couple of things I’d sold on Etsy, including a 12×18 photo print that I was sending a second time since the first print had gotten bent a smidge when I shipped it before. (Protip: Successfully mailing large photos is more difficult that I could have ever imagined.)

As I was laying out my items to be shipped on the counter and inquiring about the size of no-bend mailer I was going to need (which they did not have, but assured me they could rig something up anyway), I noticed that somehow, during the drive over or before that, the new print had gotten bent on the edge. Totally my fault. I announced what had happened forlornly (“Oh noooo! This one’s bent too!”) and decided I would not be shipping that print. Here is where the Mail Center’s people took an opportunity to earn my loyalty and barfed on it.

First, the mustachioed employee glanced at the photo and asked me where I’d had it printed. I told him Costco, which has been my go-to printer for several weeks now after quite a bit of on- and offline research into the highest quality, most cost-effective places to get single photos printed on demand. (I’ve been very happy with Costco’s output and service.) Mustachioed man scoffed and said, “I’ve got a printer that will run circles around anything they’ve got.”

Bokay. Except I didn’t come in there with a problem with my print. My print looked great and he barely even glanced at it before insulting its quality. I asked him what sort of size dimensions that fancy-ass printer could accommodate and the pricing structure. He told me something about $8 per square foot. I told him what my print cost and he backed off a bit.

The blonde lady employee was on the outskirts of our conversation by then, moving in, and when she heard what was going on with my situation and realized I had a problem with my print and wouldn’t be mailing it, she chimed in, “Well, you get what you pay for!” Which, just … really, lady? Does your high-dollar printer print on unbendable paper that renders the person who paid for it incapable of accidentally fucking it up on the drive over? Because I would love to know how that works, exactly.

There were some other snitty comments made to me that I’ve forgotten. Their general attitude toward me was supremely shitty and arrogant. Upon leaving, Nick said, “Wow, those people were real assholes to you.” And I had gone in there thinking I was going to form a long and lasting (and lucrative, for them) shipping partnership with a local business, and was appropriately courteous from the get-go. I was completely blindsided by what appeared to be absolutely unprovoked assholery. In general, that sort of thing tends to be rare in this town, and I’m grateful for it.

Maybe this is just one of those quirky local businesses run by jerks where people go anyway, because it’s Just How They Are and We Love Them For It, but if you insult me right out of the gate and then fail to listen to or address my problem or offer me any solutions other than one cloaked in a shitty attitude, you can guarantee that I will never be back to your store, and I will tell everyone I possibly can about how you acted.