A few years ago at Christmas time, I went to the mall to purchase tea. It was a gift for my mom. She likes tea, and naturally I thought tea might make a good gift and I should maybe go procure some. I knew there was a tea store in the mall because I had previously passed by this place called Teavana. Teavana, for those that are not aware, is an Oprah-approved store that sells whole leaf tea and all manner of tea accoutrements.
Teavana usually has a few employees stand outside giving away free tea samples so you'll come inside and buy their expensive AF tea. I tried a sample from one of these teavangelists, and found it to be tasty enough, so I ventured inside to buy some for my mom.
This is exactly how I wound up paying $90 for a canister of dried leaves.
In a former life, a few short years ago, I always strove to be agreeable. I have a feeling most people in customer service were never sure if I was a mystery shopper or not, because I always said yes to any suggestion. Never wanting to be the one that says, "Sorry, no thanks," I agreed to the Teavana employee's suggestion to put the tea in a special container instead of a paper bag. But according to the Teavana website, this airtight tea-tin only increased the cost by about $7.00. Though I do not remember exactly what kind of tea I purchased, I'm quite sure from the pricetag, that it must have had magical healing properties.
My hand shook with uncertainty as I handed the clerk my card to charge. I got about ten steps outside the store with my bag of dried leaves when I realized, much like the great Gob, I too had made a yuuuuuge mistake.
You know, there's a ton of gifs I could put here.
Teavana had me like:
So I did what any normal, sane person does when they realize they just spent almost a hundo on tea: I returned it.
I explained to the clerk that although it was meant to be a present, I could do so much more with $90 than buy a tiny little container full of perishables, and everything in my body was telling me that I need to immediately return this tea to them. He acted as if he'd never processed a return before. I could almost hear his internal thoughts because they were etched in the disgust written all over his hipster face: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T WANT OUR LEAVES. THESE ARE GOOD LEAVES. NO ONE HAS EVER RETURNED OUR LEAVES TO US BEFORE. OH GOD, WHAT IS HAPPENING? IS THE WORLD ENDING? IF THE WORLD IS ENDING AT LEAST I'M GOING TO BE SURROUNDED BY THESE BEAUTIFUL DRIED LEAVES OF JOY THAT SMELL LIKE HEAVEN AND TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY RAINBOW MIRACLES. PEOPLE THAT DON'T APPRECIATE OUR LEAVES CAN BURN IN THE WICKED HELLFIRE THAT WILL SURELY CONSUME ALL THOSE WHO AREN'T SURROUNDED WITH DRIED LEAVES.
He looked sad, and upset and confused and angry all at the same time. I know he probably had some sales quota to fulfill and I wasn't helping with my wishy-washy consumerism. But spending $90 on tea just seemed dumb.
Looking back now, I can see it as one of those defining moments in my life where I changed course. Life doesn't always have to have big defining moments, they can be small, like just saying no to Teavana's ridiculous tea mark-up. I stood up for myself as a consumer that day. We all have an internal guide, a conscience, and mine was yelling at me that I was getting ripped off. We should all listen in those moments. Especially when it tells you not to rip the nose-ring out of the douchey face of the Teavana clerk that made you feel like a dick for returning $90 worth of tea.
Teavana usually has a few employees stand outside giving away free tea samples so you'll come inside and buy their expensive AF tea. I tried a sample from one of these teavangelists, and found it to be tasty enough, so I ventured inside to buy some for my mom.
This is exactly how I wound up paying $90 for a canister of dried leaves.
In a former life, a few short years ago, I always strove to be agreeable. I have a feeling most people in customer service were never sure if I was a mystery shopper or not, because I always said yes to any suggestion. Never wanting to be the one that says, "Sorry, no thanks," I agreed to the Teavana employee's suggestion to put the tea in a special container instead of a paper bag. But according to the Teavana website, this airtight tea-tin only increased the cost by about $7.00. Though I do not remember exactly what kind of tea I purchased, I'm quite sure from the pricetag, that it must have had magical healing properties.
My hand shook with uncertainty as I handed the clerk my card to charge. I got about ten steps outside the store with my bag of dried leaves when I realized, much like the great Gob, I too had made a yuuuuuge mistake.
You know, there's a ton of gifs I could put here.
Teavana had me like:
So I did what any normal, sane person does when they realize they just spent almost a hundo on tea: I returned it.
I explained to the clerk that although it was meant to be a present, I could do so much more with $90 than buy a tiny little container full of perishables, and everything in my body was telling me that I need to immediately return this tea to them. He acted as if he'd never processed a return before. I could almost hear his internal thoughts because they were etched in the disgust written all over his hipster face: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T WANT OUR LEAVES. THESE ARE GOOD LEAVES. NO ONE HAS EVER RETURNED OUR LEAVES TO US BEFORE. OH GOD, WHAT IS HAPPENING? IS THE WORLD ENDING? IF THE WORLD IS ENDING AT LEAST I'M GOING TO BE SURROUNDED BY THESE BEAUTIFUL DRIED LEAVES OF JOY THAT SMELL LIKE HEAVEN AND TASTE LIKE COTTON CANDY RAINBOW MIRACLES. PEOPLE THAT DON'T APPRECIATE OUR LEAVES CAN BURN IN THE WICKED HELLFIRE THAT WILL SURELY CONSUME ALL THOSE WHO AREN'T SURROUNDED WITH DRIED LEAVES.
He looked sad, and upset and confused and angry all at the same time. I know he probably had some sales quota to fulfill and I wasn't helping with my wishy-washy consumerism. But spending $90 on tea just seemed dumb.
Looking back now, I can see it as one of those defining moments in my life where I changed course. Life doesn't always have to have big defining moments, they can be small, like just saying no to Teavana's ridiculous tea mark-up. I stood up for myself as a consumer that day. We all have an internal guide, a conscience, and mine was yelling at me that I was getting ripped off. We should all listen in those moments. Especially when it tells you not to rip the nose-ring out of the douchey face of the Teavana clerk that made you feel like a dick for returning $90 worth of tea.
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