Morrisons

...doubt rather long, story about Morrisons for all you lovely people. It touches upon their lax quality standards and (in)consideration for providing effective customer service. Er, and it's not very promising.

Well, we do our shopping on a Thursday in my house, and so it was that I picked up some of Morrisons' low fat yogurts on this particular Thursday. I forget the regular offer now, but it's several of their Better for You (?) yogurts ...
...so I would go to Morrisons first and I would show them this horrible stuff.

It wasn't the cost, it was the principle. I wasn't looking to make a scene or to get anything out of Morrisons other than an apology. I didn't even want my money back for the price of this unfit-to-eat yogurt. But I did want to see some genuine concern expressed and a sincere apology uttered. I didn't think that was asking too much.

I went straight ... more

...and got nothing more than a few grunts in return.

Just a quick, but no doubt rather long, story about Morrisons for all you lovely people. It touches upon their lax quality standards and (in)consideration for providing effective customer service. Er, and it's not very promising.

Well, we do our shopping on a Thursday in my house, and so it was that I picked up some of Morrisons' low fat yogurts on this particular Thursday. I forget the regular offer now, but it's several of their Better for You (?) yogurts for a £1.50, or something like that. I picked up a selection consisting of vanilla, rhubarb, black cherry and toffee and continued with filling my trolley with "The very best, for less".

Yeah, right! If that's not a joke, then I don't know what it is. (A complete and utter lie, perhaps?)

To be fair, back then, I had always been perfectly happy with their yogurts, if not wary of their bread and meat. I had only just discovered these yogurts (this was probably the third time I'd added them to my shopping list) and, as I watch my weight, and as I'm also one of these ethical shoppers who will boycott a product for pretty much any reason that gets up my nose, I was very happy to have found an own brand that was kind to my diet, social conscience and bank balance.

Well, on the following Saturday, I helped myself to a rhubarb yogurt and, whilst chatting to my Mum about something probably pointless, I peeled off the foil lid. Thankfully, I looked inside the pot before I sunk my spoon in to stir the yogurt, as I always do before eating.

The next thing I will never forget.

I was almost sick. Sorry to be over-dramatic, but I'm feeling sick just thinking about it now. Inside, was the most horrid, smelly, mouldy and downright awful looking 'stuff' I'd ever seen outside of Hollywood horror movies. It was white and furry… Well, you get the picture.

Now, the night before, I'd had a dodgy stomach and couldn't figure out why. A-ha! I'd also eaten the vanilla one that night, which, of course, wouldn't have shown this vile 'stuff' as clearly as the revealing purple of the rhubarb (particularly had I given it a good stirring first). This made me feel even worse. Was that why I'd felt queasy all night? I knew that the 'best before' date had not passed, as I always pay close attention to this date before I add anything to my trolley, particularly when shopping at Morrisons, because they have been known to sell things that should never have even been on their shelves.

As myself, friends and family have often grumbled, or listened to grumbles, about Morrisons' bread going stale the day after purchase, their fresh fruit and vegetables displaying glaringly obvious mould, so-called 'fresh' items clearly showing signs of a spell in a freezer (considering that many products marked as suitable for home freezing warn you not to refreeze - and you would not necessarily expect them to have already been frozen once by the time you purchase - is this even allowed?), pretty much all items displaying 'best before' dates that had passed days earlier (yet had never been noticed by staff), meat looking and smelling dodgy etc., this was the final straw for me. I had to go out that afternoon, so I would go to Morrisons first and I would show them this horrible stuff.

It wasn't the cost, it was the principle. I wasn't looking to make a scene or to get anything out of Morrisons other than an apology. I didn't even want my money back for the price of this unfit-to-eat yogurt. But I did want to see some genuine concern expressed and a sincere apology uttered. I didn't think that was asking too much.

I went straight to the Customer Services desk, with this horrid thing held at a safe distance. As Gavin/gavsto2004 writes in his 'Morrisons Customer Services - By An Ex Employee' review, the people who man these desks aren't trained in customer services. They are checkout staff who are taking turns to keep it manned, to give the public the false image of professionalism and dedication to the people who pay their wages and make the store the success it has become: yep, the good ol' customers.

The lady looked irritated by my appearance, almost as if I was inconveniencing her by having to do some work for a change. I was very polite and said that I'd like to show her something, but that it wasn't pretty. She looked, and instantly pulled away, making a disgusted noise, which turned a few heads - much to my irritation. I didn't want a scene, but if she wanted one, then I was quite prepared to talk loud enough for other potential customers to hear what kind of muck this store sells…

"I'll call the dairy manager over." She explained down the phone that there was "someone waiting at the front desk for you, and she's got a gone-off yogurt with her". I rolled my eyes at her obviously put-out and disrespectful tone. Why can't people be polite and respectful? How dare she talk about me as if I couldn't hear her. She?! My mother taught me never to address someone as "She". Some people are just so stupid.

So I waited for the dairy manager, expecting someone intelligent to come along. I had reluctantly bought the Customer Service lady's assurance that she could not help me (she didn't look up to being of help to anyone, to be frank) and so I waited. And waited. And waited…

This took 10 minutes of awkward standing around near the hustle and bustle of people queuing for cigarettes and lottery tickets. I was growing more angry by each passing minute. Like most people, I don't like waiting. I had things to do. What was taking him so long? It seemed there was no urgency to the situation, whatsoever.

As anyone knows, being kept waiting is no fun and hardly a good start when the person whose time you're wasting - on a Saturday - is a customer who just might start shopping elsewhere in future. It would make sense to get a move on and keep the customer sweet, surely. I know I would. I expected he'd use the charm to compensate for his late arrival. I would not fall for it, but decided that it would be nice to have some interest expressed in this matter. Apart from the initial theatrics, the Customer Service lady hadn't really given a damn. But now I would see a manager. Hurrah.

Then he appears, strolling over, looking most put-out. I wondered: Just what do you have to do to be called a 'manager' in this place? This guy was like a 17-year old cave man! I thought I'd gone back thousands and thousands of years at some point between parking the car and walking through the automatic doors. Maybe it had happened when I was dazzled by the white lights and all that garish yellow.

I showed him the yogurt and it generated no response from him. As well as the lady at the Customer Service desk, my mother, father and best mate had all reeled back in disgust when I put the repulsive yogurt under their noses. This guy was completely unmoved by it. No "Yuck!" or "Gosh!" from him. No apology, either. In fact, he didn't say anything other than "I can give you your money back" with a sigh, which was missing the point entirely. I didn't think this moron would get 'the point' if I poked him repeatedly in the eye with it. He really was an ignorant, idle-looking dim-wit with no social skills whatsoever. A manager? I've taught 11-year old tearaways with more respect, courtesy and intelligence than this chap.

I said quietly, but in an aggrieved way, that I was so disgusted by this - particularly knowing that I may have eaten something similar the day before without realising, which had upset my stomach - that I certainly wouldn't be buying anything from the dairy section again. And you know what? He wasn't in the least bit bothered. I think I got a shrug of the shoulders, but not even a disappointed grunt came from his thick head. I was clearly wasting my time - and, it seemed, his (of course, his time was much more important than mine). I should have thrust the yogurt into his chest and made a furry, rhurarby mess of his shirt, but that would have been a waste of energy and left me looking like the guilty party (heck, they had already made me look like I was a busy-body trouble-maker who was spoiling the party).

I got 37p, or whatever it was, back and left the store feeling much worse. As well as being annoyed by his attitude, I now felt as if I'd been unreasonable to even complain - ever so politely - about a yogurt that was not fit to eat and which just might have made me ill the previous night. 37p. That's not why I went there, but at least I'd gone there and said my bit.

Sadly, I know that it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference.

Never mind me not buying their yogurts! I won't buy anything from this shoddy place anymore, unless it's 'safe' products, such as cola, fruit juice, crisps and cereal. At least I know they can't tamper with these to make a quick buck. My mother still shops there for about 60% of her weekly groceries and, since then, we've had plenty of mouldy bread and received the same shameless response when we've pointed it out to staff.

Just last week, when getting some of that vacuum-packed half-baked bread that lasts for ages and you 'cook' in the over, we saw at least six packs that were thick with dark green mould. It was very noticeable - except, it seems, to the person who put it on display. Enraged at yet another sign of Morrisons laziness, I took a photo of it with my Mum's camera phone, with the intent of sending it to Morrisons and putting it online to hopefully shame them. Not being familiar with Mum's phone, I didn't save it properly… but I have no doubt that I will soon be able to photograph something that's supposed to be fresh looking rotten. I can recall three occasions where I wished I'd had my phone with me, just so that I could take a quick snap and have evidence of the half-hearted way that (some of) these people work. My mother, not wanting a fuss, quickly and apologetically called over a guy who was stacking some nearby shelves and all we got from him was "Oh, thanks love. The 'best before' date's alright. They must have been near something hot, or something" as he gathered them up and got them quickly out of sight. "It's hardly the first time. It happens every time we're here," I told him dryly. He was as unresponsive as the Neanderthal dairy manager had been weeks earlier. Maybe that store does funny things to me. Maybe the white and yellow combo had made me invisible this time, I don't know.

But anyway, the point is, they don't seem to care much about selling dodgy produce at Morrisons. Which is why I don't care for them... or give them my custom. A 'sorry' can go a long way. It's a shame the staff at Morrisons aren't taught this simple, little word.

Absolutely appalling customer service, that's all I can say.

* Please note that I'm sure that not all Morrisons stores/staff are like this. I've only ever been to two (Port Talbot and the new one in Neath - the experiences mentioned above concern the Port Talbot store, so if you're from the Port Talbot store, shame on you!) and I would not wish to criticise all the people who work for Morrisons - many of whom, I'm sure, do a very good job. This is just my opinion from past experiences at Morrisons' Port Talbot store. If you're thinking of shopping there, then just be careful what you pick up - and don't expect any courtesy if you have a complaint to make, because it will no doubt be your fault, not theirs. 

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