Alright, so this post was originally going to be about terrible customer service. I was going to talk about my experience at the sporting goods store on Friday, and I was going to be all up on my high horse. I can still be up on my high horse, but, unfortunately for me, some events transpired this weekend giving the fellow with poor people skills one point over my 2. In fact, he may have negated my first point, in which case, we're neck and neck.
It all started when I walked in the sporting goods store to purchase new tubes for my bike (because, as you may or may not know, I had a flat tire a couple weeks ago...and I finally fixed it on Friday night...right before I left town to go on a triathlon training weekend that included biking). Being a regular at this particular store, I knew where to go--down. I found my way to the bike and swim shop, started browsing the area for CO2 cartridges and bike tubes, when I decided that I should seriously consider buying a wetsuit.
As you recall, I outgrew my old one and sold it to a tiny Asian girl who was smaller than I've been since I turned about 16. I've been hesitant to purchase a new wetsuit because my heart hasn't really been in this open water swimming thing the way it used to be (probably because I don't own a wetsuit anymore). I was in a real quandary about the weekend. Do I buy a wetsuit? Do I rent a wetsuit? Do I wing it? How cold will the lake really be? I just didn't know what to do.
I wandered over to the wetsuit area, making a beeline for the sale rack (because these puppies are far from cheap). There was a salesperson near me, who said, "If you have any questions about wetsuits, just ask." I thanked him, and told him that I was trying to determine whether or not I actually wanted one. I also mentioned that I've rented twice, so it might be time to buy, to which he replied, "Uhh...yeah. Sounds like it." I immediately disliked him. At that point, I started looking for my size, but had a senior moment and couldn't remember if I was a WM or WMS. Upon looking at the sizing chart, I determined that I am a WM. The sales guy then said, in a rather irritated (and irritating) way, "Are you sure you don't have any questions about wetsuits?"
"No," I replied. "I just didn't remember my size, so I'm checking to see what it is." Upon determining my size, I searched the rack for it.
"You know, I could help you." He said.
"Yeah, but it looks like you don't have my size."
"Uhh..not on the SALE rack." He was very sarcastic and rude with his insinuation that I'm cheap (For the record, I'm thrifty and/or frugal...not cheap). "We have your size in the regularly priced suits, so you should try looking there instead of just in the suits that are discounted."
Riiiiiiight. Because, as someone who isn't thrilled with the prospect of buying a new wetsuit, I'd be more than happy to drop $600 on a fancy new one that is WAY more wetsuit than I need (since that's the one to which he attempted to direct me). I wandered over to the cheaper new wetsuits, as he called after me telling me that I shouldn't bother looking at those because they weren't as good as the more expensive ones. Duh! I don't care. And that's when I realized who he was. He's the same guy that started bugging me about the tires on my bike when I brought it in after the terrible bike ride in the rain. To refresh your memory, it went something like this, "Uhh..what's wrong with your tires? Why are they so dirty? Don't you take care of you bike? You should get new tires. They look like crap." This was after he laughed and made fun of me when I mentioned that I fell off of the bike earlier (hence the dirty tires and need for a tune-up). I hate that guy.
Needless to say, he didn't sell me a wetsuit. Instead, I had someone else sell me a tire tube. He was very nice. I liked him. Too bad trouble was in store for that tire tube.
And that's where the story would have ended had I found time to write it on Friday. It only gets better.
Saturday morning, I drove three and a half hours to Lake San Antonio, which was lovely. I got there an hour before we were to start our bike ride. Everything was going well. I changed the tire the night before, and I attached the computer to my bike to calculate my speed and mileage. I did have a nagging feeling of doom, but I figured it had more to do with camping and my inability to get quality sleep in a tent (and the fact that I was pretty unprepared for the whole thing because I was in denial that I was actually camping and might need something more than peanut butter for my meals).
We set off on the bike ride, and the coach took a quick stop early on (within the first 500 feet), to show us where we were supposed to run immediately after the 30 mile ride. As we all got back on our bikes, tragedy struck. That tire, you know, the one I changed the night before. It popped. To say I was angry would be an understatement. Not realizing how slow I am at everything to do with athletics, a girl said, "Just change it." Easier said than done I'm afraid. I explained that that would take an hour (since it took me 45 minutes to perform a "20 second" tire change the night before). The coach changed it, and another rider looked for the hole. We determined that there was a piece of glass in the tire. Sadly, I did look for it the night before, but found nothing. Apparently, I'm not that thorough. Also, I pulled out the new tire tube I purchased just to find that I got the wrong size, so we had to use my other spare tube (which, if you're counting, left me with nothing should any mishaps happen on the ride).
With the glass removed, and the tire changed, we set off. Needless to say, I was rattled...and I was having trouble getting up the hill at the start of the ride mostly because I was in a very negative space (as someone who is more new age-y than me might say). Once I conquered hill number 1, I started feeling a little better. I saw the next hill (which wasn't as steep), and prepared myself. Then, the same tire popped AGAIN!
I cursed, I cried, I got off the bike and wanted to kick it...but knew that I wasn't planning on getting a new one so that would just add to my problems. Now I was by myself with NOTHING. A girl on mountain bike road by on the trail above me and didn't even stop. I would at least ask if the person needed help as I road by with no intention of stopping. I mean, come on, it's the least someone can do. When I see someone in trouble, I'm happy to acknowledge their dilemma and do nothing to help because: a) I'm not skilled at helping people with anything to do with their bicycle much less my own, and b) because I'm just not that helpful.
Luckily, the coach came back to see what happened to me. This time he saw my tears, and I was embarrassed. I ended up walking back into the camp area with my bike and was fortunate enough to run into someone from my campground with a car. So, they gave me a lift back. I then put on my running shoes and headed out for a 6.2 mile run. It was hot, hot, hot, so I went swimming in the middle of my run. When I returned to camp, people were trickling in from the bike ride, and they all knew about my troubles. It was nice to get sympathy, but I still felt frustrated since it wasn't my lack of athletic prowess, but my equipment that failed me.
Later that evening, a tire change clinic was scheduled, where I was the star. As I pulled my bike around, I noticed that the front wheel was flat too. Someone loaned me a new tire, and another person gave me some spare tubes. The bike was up and running for the ride this morning. Of course, when morning came around, I wasn't interested in riding. But I did. And I'm glad I did because it gave me back my confidence. Admittedly, after all of the trouble with the flat tires and the monster hill climbs, I started feeling like I wasn't cut out for this triathlon. However, once I rode the course, I decided that I could handle it. Hopefully I can handle it in 100 degree heat because that is apparently a possibility.
So, I learned a couple things from this experience. My tires were shot, and I should have bought new ones, so that jerk at the store was right about something. I am fully capable of competing in the Wildflower Triathlon. And, I should never try to set up a tent by myself while others are watching because the tent won't go up, and I'll have to choke back tears.
What a weekend! Time for meatloaf.
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