Jennifer Heebner

How to Lose a Sale in 10 Minutes
December 10, 2007

Poor salesmanship is one reason why I prefer to shop online or through catalogs instead of venturing into stores. Last week I had a frustrating retail encounter that reinforced my affinity for non-contact shopping. 

Eight track players became obsolete with the advent of new technology. Likewise, old-fashioned salesmen who are out of touch with today's consumers should evolve, or be replaced.

I needed to buy a tuxedo for my husband, and thought I should to go to a men’s store to do so. I went to Jos. A. Bank in the Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia, and approached the first salesman I saw—a grey-haired man named John. I told him that I needed to buy a tux, and I needed to know what measurements of Jeff’s, beyond waist and neck, were necessary to order one. 

My husband and I bought a suit from this retailer in 2000. The pleasant shopping experience wasn't duplicated during a recent visit.

John told me to bring my husband in for a fitting. I said, “He won’t be able to come in for a fitting. Please tell me what measurements I need.” John was displeased. “He has to come in.” Me: “He’s works—a lot. I can’t get him into the store. I don’t need a perfect fit, but I do need a tux that’ll fit him well enough for a night.” 

John frowned. “Why can’t he get in? If he needs a tux, he needs to come in. Or, maybe you should go to one of those places in the mall.” I frowned: “John, I want to buy one, please just tell me the most basic measurements that I need to order a tux.” Then he asked, “When do you need it?” Me: “Saturday (it was Tuesday)” John was outraged: “Oh! Gosh, why didn’t you come in earlier?” I’m thinking—‘I don’t need this heckling from a stranger whom I was planning on giving a bunch of money to’. 

I went to Jos. A. Bank to buy a tuxedo, but instead, got insulted.

I explained that I, too, worked, but the news didn’t appease John. After all, I walked into his store expecting to buy a tux without my husband present and on somewhat short notice. He shook his head in disgust and said he’d talk to a manager. 

The manager was younger and more accommodating. He told me to measure the inseam on Jeff’s pants, alerted me to an available discount, and gave me a catalog. I felt reassured, though he also insisted that John give me his business card. I didn’t want to be rude, so I took it. 

I paused for another moment to talk to John, whom I recognized from my community. He wasn’t a skilled salesman, but I wasn’t going to be unfriendly to a somewhat familiar face. But then John asked again why Jeff couldn’t come in, and why I couldn’t get in sooner, and I gave him the same answers (work, busy, etc.). He asked, “Do you have kids?” Me: “No (and what does this have to do with a tux?)” Then he said. “Why don’t you get a life?” 

Poor service at a brick-and-mortar store convinced me to purchase a tuxedo online.

While I’m sure that John had good intentions in an ‘I’m-older-than-you-heed-my-advice’ kind of way, advising a perfect stranger to ‘get a life’ might not have been the best suggestion. Therefore, I left the store, went home, and ordered the tux from Finetuxedos.com. One click and a phone call later, a pleasant and competent saleswoman assured me that I’d get the tux on Friday morning (which I did). Over the phone, the saleswoman asked me questions about Jeff’s build and size to be certain that the suit would fit him. It was an ideal transaction—exactly the kind of service that I needed. And perhaps best of all, it came without heckling, judgments, or put-downs. Oh, and the tux was a better fit than the wedding suit we bought for Jeff at Jos. A. Bank a few years ago (and that one he did have fitted in the store). 

My husband, Jeff, liked his "Internet tuxedo," as he called it. It was a great fit, and the seller's service was equally appealing. Dog not included.

Posted by Jennifer Heebner on December 10, 2007 | Comments (3)