EXPLORE MORE:

Not So Many Happy Returns: The Art (and Agony) of Taking Stuff Back

From smooth Amazon exchanges to “Marge-only” forms, one shopper’s misadventures reveal the quirks of modern return policies.

October 9, 2025

PHALON_returns_01 — We can return this the easy way or the hard way. Photo by Joe Phalon.

Returning stuff to the store has never really been something people look forward to, unless they are looking forward to getting their money back on that 200-inch TV the day after the Super Bowl. In fact, it’s deceitful people like that who led stores with generous return policies to clamp down.

But still, some are easier than others, and I’ve always felt the real measure of a retailer’s character is its return policy.

I’ve made a number of returns to Amazon over the years with no problems. It’s quite a simple process, really. Recently, we made a return that wasn’t actually a return. A piece of furniture we ordered online arrived damaged. When we contacted Amazon, they said they would ship us a new one and not to bother disassembling, repacking and returning the original.

I call these “many happy returns.” It’s not always that easy, however.

Some stores act as if they have never heard of you — or your returns. You must run a gauntlet designed to discourage you from ever wanting to bring something back again. Like at a now-defunct mall store where I tried to return a duplicate something-or-other not too long ago.

With a valid receipt and an unopened, sealed box, this should be painless, I thought. Guess again. I waited at a dust-covered customer service desk, only to be told curtly to take it to the department where it was purchased. There, I was given a form (in triplicate) longer than a mortgage application. Carbon copies? What’s next — will they give me extra Green Stamps?

I filled it out, got all my papers in order, returned the pen, and expected to have my money cheerfully refunded.

Not so fast. I had to take this form back to customer service, where the curt clerk would dispense the actual cash. But ﬁrst it had to be initialed by “Marge.” And Marge was on dinner break. Marge — and only Marge — could initial the documents in that exclusive real estate on the form where it says, “DO NOT WRITE IN THIS AREA!” I wouldn’t dream of it.

Then they insisted on my phone number. Why do stores want your phone number for returns? Has anyone really ever received a phone call about a recent return? They say it’s to reduce fraud, but more often the numbers seem to end up in the hands of telemarketers. When they got insistent, I told them I don’t have a phone. “I got rid of it when the voices on the phone conflicted with the voices in my head.” I really said that. The curt clerk stared pensively, unsure whether to chuckle at my wit or flee.

I got the refund, and a dose of attitude. And you know what? That store chain has moved on to the great retail dumpster in the sky. They had other problems, but their snotty returns policy didn’t help.

Sometimes a return policy needs a little flexibility to keep from rising to the level of absurdity. I bought a wall’s worth of kitchen cabinets at Home Depot that had to be installed by Monday morning or the plumber couldn’t finish, which would lead to the electrician not ﬁnishing, and so on. But one of them was missing a part.

Despite that admonishment when opening products that require assembly (“STOP! Do not return this to the store! Call 1-800-YEAH-RIGHT”), I went back to Home Depot with the receipt, ready to throw myself on their mercy, hoping the part could just be taken from another package.

The customer service associate said I would have to bring the whole cabinet back for an exchange. “Seriously? It’s screwed to my kitchen wall!” Please, just go back, open the box you would have given me in exchange, take out the part, then pretend that box is one I returned. I’ve seen that done plenty of times!

After a little more haggling, he called the guy from kitchen cabinets — a guy with a ponytail and a beard who looked like he actually worked for a living. He came to the front, quickly assessed the issue, then said, “Come with me.” We headed to the hinterlands of the store, all the way back to the associate hive.

He pulled out a big carton ﬁlled with loose parts, screws, hinges and all manner of things cabinet they had accumulated for just such occasions.

“What do you need?” I showed him the part. He put it plastic bag (in fact, he gave me extras, just in case), scribbled a receipt, and sent me on my way. Now that’s thinking outside the (big) box.

Joe Phalon, Contributing Writer

Contributing Writer

Joe brings decades of journalism experience to the Ridge View Echo, covering everything from local school boards to the U.S. Supreme Court. A former National Law Journal editor and Columbia Law School press officer, he now enjoys telling community stories in Blairstown, where he lives with his wife, Rose, and their two dachshunds.