My parents used to travel back and forth from Russia to visit my sister and me before moving to America for good. My mother gradually adjusted to the high level of services in this country and quickly learned the benefits of being a customer. She couldn’t believe her eyes – people were actually polite and attentive! What she liked most was that she had the right to return or exchange low-quality items – something almost unthinkable for her!
One day, she came back to Russia and found out that my Dad brought home expired yogurt. Mom didn’t even want to listen to my father’s reasons – that it was not America, and nobody would take the dairy products back – she sent him back to the store anyway.
“Where were your eyeballs?” the sales clerk yelled vulgarly at my father, looking down at him.
It became our family joke for years: “Where were your eyeballs?” We say it every time we remember poor Russian services and compare them with the exceptionally polite and considerate customer service here. My mother liked shopping in America until one day we went to buy a mattrass for her.
We found a nice mattress store and purchased two new mattresses sealed in plastic for a little more than $700. The joy ended right there. My mother and I noticed a strong mildew odor in her bedroom as soon as we furnished it. Would you think of a new bed if you have a strong suffocating odor? I wouldn’t!
I checked every corner of our new place, I sprayed bottles and bottles of Febreze, but the mold was getting only stronger. The bedding was my next suspect. I washed it, and washed it, and I washed it again but, every time I entered the room, I smelled the mold again.
My mother got nasty headaches, but I was not able to be attentive to her, having my own problems increasing day after day. My throat swelled and I lost my voice for weeks to come, and I didn’t even sleep in the room. For a public speaker to lose her voice is the same as for a jeweler to lose her fingers. I make my living through my voice. That was scary.
Only by accident did we discover that the problem was neither the bedding nor the apartment but the mattresses.
“It is America – not Russia!” I told my mother. All we needed to do was to see the storeowner. I soon could tell that the owner “stopped liking my face.” This was not just the obvious observation of his attitude, but his own words. He told me that he didn’t like my face as soon as I explained why I wanted to return the mattress.
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I felt I had the right to be heard, even if he stopped liking me. I still believed that any storeowner would naturally try his best to satisfy his or her customers. Instead, we experienced déjà vu: before our eyes, the American man suddenly transformed into a rude and arrogant salesman (too familiar to us, Russians), who yelled and screamed and laughed with a victorious sound.
“Get out of my store! You threaten me with Problems Solvers, you lie to me. You come from nobody knows what country, speaking nobody knows what language! I sold 50,000 mattresses and never had a mildew problem. You are the only ones who came back! Get out of my store!” He suddenly looked angrily and hatefully down at my mother, who sat innocently in the armchair, not having a clue about what was going on, and yelled again,
“Do not sit on my furniture! Get off my furniture! Get out of my store! Get out of my store!”
He was so angry I had to call the police, not knowing that the owner could behave as he wished on his property. That was explained to me later by the city police officer.
“Arrest her! Arrest her for trespassing!” he didn’t stop yelling, even in front of the police officer.
“I can’t,” said the officer.
“I’d rather be arrested,” I said and offered to turn myself in, envisioning how my friends would picket the mattress place. I knew I would win. It is not Russia; my dignity is preserved in America. After we left the store, my mother complained: “Where are the new mattresses? Did the owner agree on exchanging them?” I hugged her and smiled, “Where were our eyeballs, Mom?” She looked at me with sudden understanding, and we both laughed through tears.