• I Hate Guitar Center
I went in to buy strings. Just strings. I paid in cash. The cashier told me that he needed my name. Why? For the receipt. According to him, I can’t return my strings without my name on the receipt. I declined anyway.
On the way out, I was stopped so that the chubby greeter girl with greasy hair could check my receipt (at least she didn’t get my name). Again, I asked why. ”Look, I’m just doing my job.” Her parents must be proud.
Anyone who has ever been to a Guitar Center with me knows not to repeat the mistake. I never give my name or address, and I generally refuse to let them see my receipt (which once led to a parking lot confrontation that ended with me being banned from that location). Am I kind of being a dick about it? Sure. I know what I’m getting into when I go there. I know that they always want my name, and always have someone by the door on my way out.
But strangely, I don’t have this problem anywhere else I shop. The Guitar Center experience is designed to be abrasive and anti-customer. Today was my last trip.