Good weather’s got me moving today, riding out to Decatur to pick up some glasses. Insurance finally gave me the green light, so I figure, why not? Let’s get these eyes right. —hit up America’s Best, grab some frames, and be on my way. Easy, right?
This was my third time walking into that place. Yeah, you read that right—three. First time, I stepped in there, ready to handle my business, and the customer service was so trash, I walked right back out. Waited a month to cool off, rolled back through, and guess what? Same story. Ten minutes of cold stares and half-assed attitudes later, I walked out the door again.
Now here I am, fool optimistic, trying one more time today. Third time’s the charm, right? I walk in, and it’s like I stepped into some lost universe where I’m a ghost or something. Four women sitting there like they’re on a beach vacation, sipping on invisible rum and coke, not a care in the world.
When I finally get to the counter, I hand over my insurance card with a smile, and you’d think I slapped it down covered in maggots the way this lady handles it—just the tips of her fingers, like she’s afraid it might bite her. No greeting, no “how can I help you,” just straight-up vibes like I’m an inconvenience.
And maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m just interrupting their day. Or maybe it’s the fact I’m a Black man walking into their little bubble. Hell if I know. All I do know is it feels wrong. Feels ugly. Feels like I walked in there asking for a favor instead of being a paying customer trying to get what’s mine.
They’ve got a good selection of frames, no lie. But what good is that if they make you feel like dirt the whole time? I’m standing there questioning myself, checking my reflection—“Do I look like a problem?” All I want is some damn glasses. Is that too much to ask?
Three strikes, I’m out. I walked out of America’s Best for the last time. Whether it’s them, Decatur, or some cosmic joke aimed at me, I don’t care anymore. I’m done. Customer service that bad? Keep your frames. I’ll take my money somewhere else.
Lesson learned: Ain’t nothing “best” about a place that makes you feel less than human. And as for me? I’m gonna find a spot that’s worth my time, respect, and money.
Stay kind, y’all—but don’t let nobody treat you like you ain’t worth a damn.
Ever seen poor service before ?