Friday, August 3, 2012
So, my Golden Daemon entries showed up in the mail yesterday, in great shape, shipped by the ridiculously helpful Chicago Battle Bunker staff. Everything went incredibly smoothly, and the Bunker folks went above and beyond in helping me get my entries back (which shouldn't be surprising, because all of the GW staff that work a Games Day do an amazing job).
I'm deeply appreciative of their help!
I don't do much with GW stores. I'm fortunate enough to live in an area fairly well saturated with them, but there's only been one convenient in the past couple of years (GW Fair Oaks).
The thing is, that store just cannot catch a fucking break from me. The slightest thing off, and I start crabbing about it. The store was transplanted from a less convenient location (in Potomac Mills), where the folks down there had screwed things up for me pretty colossally in the past. Since moving to Fair Oaks, there's been the occasional screw up that's really set me off... but mostly because it's stacked atop the sins of Potomac Mills.
But the thing is: I'm pretty damn confident that nobody involved in any of those screwups has anything to do with the Fair Oaks store anymore. I'm crapping over a staff for stuff that's not their fault. And, if I'm being fair (and I haven't really): they've been pretty solid lately. I can pick up what I'm there to pick up without being smothered with the stereotypical redshirt hardsell. Sure, one guy tried to talk me out of a potential conversion (protip: don't do that, for a host of reasons), but that's hardly grounds to give an entire store the perpetual stinkeye.
So, because I can't really properly thank the Chicago Bunker staff by dropping off a case of beer or something, I'm going to try to make up for it by lightening the heck up on their more local comrades. I haven't been fair to them; it's past time to start cutting them some slack.