Pier 1 Imports and I have had a long and, until the incident recounted here, relatively happy history together. We go a long way back – all the way to roomfuls of wicker furniture (and a sturdy wooden armoire that we still use in Boston) and their fashion foray into gypsy-like garments and jewelry (I still have a patchwork velvet vest from their old Porter Square location). Throughout their various focuses over the years, the one thing that they have done better than almost everyone else is their selection of pillows. Instead of having the same things that every Pottery Barn or West Elm store has, they have always maintained a unique collection. Some of the more extravagant ones tend to be pricier than many other places, but are usually worth it. They also supplement those with regular sales that have kept me coming back over the years. That all changed a few days ago.
I was in the process of revamping our guest bedroom, as two of the pillows we had on the bed were finally done, and I was on the lookout for something to match or complement the duvet, which was a difficult paisley riot of soft salmon and a green that sat infuriatingly along the lines of celery and celadon, something to which most pillows failed at doing justice. After exhausting the Marshalls and TJ Maxx and Homegoods at local disposal, I remembered Pier 1 Imports and made the very short drive around the corner to their Wolf Road location, Store #0116.
As usual, I got distracted by the displays and ended up almost taking all their summer outdoor goods home with me, then I got my focus back and headed to the wall of pillows. I knew the colors and design of the bedspread, and I knew what would work. I made several passes of the wall, and the clearance section, and just as I was about to give up, the perfect accent pillow appeared as if by magic. It was marked down to $19.98, but I would have gladly paid full price because it would work out perfectly. The colors were the muted ones of the bedspread, the cream in it was just dark enough to match the underlying background of the design, and the pattern was strong enough to stand up to the swirls of paisley, but quiet enough to blend in with muffled harmony. It was as if the pillow gods had smiled upon me for one brief shining moment. I quickly brought it to the register but it wasn’t ringing in. (I’m from the retail days when you could actually override items and key in their correct price.) Just then, the manager was coming in from the back room, and when she saw what was going on she was more than pleased to announce that if it was a redline item they wouldn’t be able to sell it to me.
Now, I worked in retail for a number of years. I know how it works. There are rules, and there are customers. When the two don’t exactly align, a good manager works with the latter to achieve satisfaction on the part of a returning entity. She was not a good manager.
“I can’t sell it because if I sell it then a notification will go out and we’ll get in trouble for selling it,” she said with a smug smile. (I’m not sure how a notification would go off when it wouldn’t even ring in, but whatever.)
“Wait, you have an item on your salesfloor that is marked with a price on it, and you can’t sell it to a customer who wants to purchase it?” I asked, more than a little incredulous, but trying to be nice because I knew how some people with a tiny amount of power tend to abuse it, particularly in the retail world.
“Sorry, it’s redlined, I can’t sell it,” she said.
“Well, why was it out on the sales-floor if you can’t sell it?” I asked, watching the pillow slowly being taken away.
“Oh, I will be dealing with that too!” she said gleefully, and with that she whisked my perfect pillow into the back room, never to be seen again.
If the policy of Pier 1 Imports is not to sell their ‘redlined’ items, I understand. But when one finds its way to the salesfloor, and you have a customer willing to pay the full price on the ticket for it, I’m shocked that they would rather bring it back to the lost land of redlined pillows instead of making a sale. Where do those pillows go now? I’m guessing I would have paid more for that pillow than whatever other fate is about to befall it, and I would have a guest bedroom that I could tell people looked so perfect because of Pier 1 Imports.
Now the world and our guest bedroom visitors will be getting a very different story.
And Pier 1 Imports just lost a loyal customer.
UPDATE #1: Shortly after this post went live, someone from Pier 1 called me (as I had also sent the abbreviated story to their e-mail contact address). The woman apologized and said that in some instances they could not sell a redline item, and she asked if I had the item number so she could check. I told her I did not, but that the manager had checked and it was definitely redlined. She then asked if she could help me find an alternative. I thanked her and said I was capable of finding another pillow from elsewhere. So, I’d give them a point for reaching out, and take away a point for not offering a viable solution to a dumb, business-losing policy. In other words, this post stands.
UPDATE #2: Well, I’ll just let you read the e-mail for yourself.
UPDATE #3: Pier 1 called again, so maybe someone finally read the e-mail, or this long-winded never-ending post, and is taking this pillow PSA seriously. The representative said she was reading over what happened and that she didn’t think they had explained things well or done enough to remedy the situation. I said I thought it was explained fully: they destroyed their redlined items. She said she wanted to go over what redlined meant and that it was for items that shouldn’t be on the sales floor due to something being hazardous or wrong with them, such as illegal use of a copyrighted image or not meeting industry standards. So that makes the company look so much better. (What would something like that be doing on the sales floor in the first place??) I asked her to follow up with whatever issue that pillow had. I mean, if it was made with uranium I want to know in the event I need a Silkwood shower. She said it was nothing like that.
She’s sending a gift certificate in a couple of weeks. I’ll let you know how much bad publicity is worth these days when it arrives.
UPDATE #4: The gift card arrived in the rather generous amount of $50. I say that with genuine appreciation, and a healthy dose of astonishment that instead of selling me a pillow for $19.98, they’d rather send me a $50 gift card. This is why I couldn’t run a business: that kind of math doesn’t make sense to me.
