Tag Archives: pick ‘n pay

Pick n Pay’s Puzzling Policy

21 Feb
You *magazine*, or someone else?

‘You’ magazine, or someone else?

I just had an interesting interaction at a nearby Pick n Pay Supermarket. They used to have a ‘scan-right’ policy in which they promised to give you a product gratis if they charged you a different price at the till than was listed on the shelf (and if it was demonstrably their fault). They have recently changed their policy so that they give you double the difference between the two prices.

At least, that is the simple version. According to the lovely ladies who helped me this morning, the calculation is complicated by one additional step.

Sorry if you lose sleep over maths story sums, but here is one:

Jordan goes to buy some cheese. The shelf says ‘R36’. When scanned at the till, Jordan is charged R50. He complains to the manageress who kindly honours their ‘Double the Differenceâ„¢’ policy. How much change should Jordan get?

If you’re keeping up, you might be calling out ‘R28!!’ but you’d apparently be wrong, because our branch has interpreted the policy to mean that you must calculate what double the difference is, and then subtract it from the till price (R50). So I received R22 change.

I insisted that this can’t be right, and they pulled the “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t make the policies” line after trying to explain a few times. Eventually I took the R22 (because score anyway, right?), and left.

Not being a mathematician, I’ve had a go at working out by means of trial and error whether this can actually be their policy. Consider the following table:


The first line is my actual transaction. You subtract the list price from the till price to get R14, double it to get R28, and then subtract it again from the actual till price to get my change: R22.

Observe what happens when I make the difference smaller or bigger. In line 5, for example, if Pick n Pay only mislabelled their item very slightly wrong (by R2), I should receive R46 change. By contrast (line 6), if they made a huge mistake and listed the cheese at R10 instead of R50, I would owe Pick n Pay an additional R30 for their error.

Please, mathematicians, by all means tell me if I’ve gone wrong, but otherwise, Pick n Pay ladies, your move.



A Complaint Letter

17 Jan

The following is a complaint letter that I’m about to send to Checkers.

Change to Checkers?

They say that you should never shop hungry. That’s because one’s more primal urges over-ride one’s better judgment. Well I went to Checkers absolutely ravenous, and I left with nothing. Not a sausage. I had to struggle even to leave with the money with which I came, but I’m getting there.

I work very close to a Checkers, and so I’ve been persuaded to go inside for food twice in the last week. The first time, I tried to buy something labelled R8.99, and when the bakery lady scanned it, it was R9.99. I was already cross from the post office that day, so I was not in a forgiving mood, and I left empty-handed.

Some minutes ago, I left your shop angry again, but this time it was all you.

The choice between heavily-garlicked and vastly overcooked couldn’t tempt me to try your bakery again, so I took a loaf of bread marked R6.95, some cheese sausages above a R21.95 label, and a bottle of hot sauce also at R22. That should add up to about 50 bucks.

Getting quite keen for my lunch now, I got to the till and handed over my 50. I was twenty-something rand short, says the lady. My maths is patchy, but it’s never been that bad. I look at the slip, and it says that the sausages are actually R37.99 or something — nearly double the list price. Now I’m thinking, if I was at Pick ‘n Pay, their policies would force them to give me the item for free; why didn’t I go to Pick ‘n Pay?

What does the Checkers lady say? ‘Here’s a refund.’ She sends another employee to ‘go find these’, but tells me nothing about the implications of this for me. With a growing queue behind me, and without any lunch solution, I start to get angry.

‘But now I have nothing to put on my bread,’ I point out. ‘Must I go and get more sausages?’

‘Yes, go and get something else.’

So I take my change, and leave the two items for which I have now paid with the till lady at the counter. On the way, I look at the till slip and notice that the R6.95 bread actually cost me R9.99. In case you’ve lost count, that’s 3 incorrect prices out of 4 — all of them higher than advertised. I collect the R6.95 bread price-tag from the bread shelf and hunt for different sausages. I notice that the price under my original sausages was not for that brand, but something else. And although two varieties of the sausage brand that I had originally bought are stacked on the shelf, none of the price tags on any of the shelves relate to either variety. None of the prices anywhere in the mystery meat fridge are R30 or higher. I would argue from this that it is your intention to deceive.

I see a good price on smoked viennas and try to find these. There are red viennas above the price-tag. I hunt around for the smoked ones and eventually find them above the red-vienna tag (the red viennas are more expensive, if you were wondering).

Getting cross now, I return to the till, and there is a long queue now. I flag down the managerly person who had previously refunded me, and start my story. She listens and then points out that she’s not a manager, she’s a supervisor. Oh. She points me to the manager’s office in the corner. I ask her to take me. She doesn’t. I go to the office in the corner and there are two doors. I knock, and it’s the wrong door. The manager’s office is not quite in the corner. I ask if the lady is the manager, and she says yes (but in a bored, huffy way, of course). I begin my story, and she interrupts me after the third or fourth sentence. ‘I have to deal with this lady first,’ she says, about four sentences later than she should have. So she calls someone else to deal with me.

After a wait, I start my story for the third time, and the ‘fresh-produce manager’ (viennas are fresh?) and I return to the till. The stuff that I had already paid for — bread and sauce — are not there. After a whole lot of umming and ahing, no one knows what’s become of it, so I’m standing with the change from my R50 — the wrong change — some viennas I’ve not paid for, and an empty space where my purchases should have been.

Getting extremely sick of all this, I ask for my R50 back. I’m very hungry, though losing my appetite, but I can skip a meal without fainting, and I’m now beyond spending money at this establishment. The manager, sensing that he’s about to lose a customer permanently, says a weak ‘sorry’, but does nothing except agree to give me my R50.

The till lady, however, decides that it inconveniences her to give me R50. She first has to finish ringing up someone else’s groceries before she can get to it (I assume it’s not like you can just open a till). And then when the supervisor lady from before sees that she’s about to shut the till again without acknowledging my existence, she points out that I’m waiting for my R50. Till lady wants to have a discussion about it, despite two of her superiors having agreed that it is a good, short-sighted solution to my problem, and so she won’t give over. Remarkably, the supervisor feels that a discussion is an appropriate course of action, and starts a rambling explanation. I preferred raising my voice at this point — a medium-volume shout, I’d say — because I’m extremely busy at the moment (though not too busy to write to you — it’s not like I have to waste any time eating today), and me not getting lunch had already taken a good half an hour. Till lady started to see my side of the story. I took my money and left.

Please allow me to point out that your ad campaign at the moment argues that you’re really quite cheap, and you have more kinds of cheese than any store in the known world. For these reasons we ought to rest assured that our lifestyle won’t have to change if we ‘change to Checkers’ from an unnamed store (Woolworths). If I was just at Pick ‘n Pay — supposedly a sideways step from Checkers — I would have had free lunch, an escort to the manager’s office, and someone dealing with my problem with me, instead of sending me back into the shop to try again while someone nicked what I had already bought. How on earth do you expect to compete with Woolworths if you can’t even cover common-sense service, let alone the extra-mile stuff?

I vowed never to use Shoprite again some years ago — you really have to hate yourself to suffer that kind of ‘service’ — but I thought Checkers was slightly more customer-oriented. I seems that I was mistaken. You see, your (ex) customers are also prone to the odd mistake!

Hungrily yours,