When less‑than‑satisfactory service from a music store begins to border on the distinctly dodgy, Judy Lemon asks: how do they think they can get away with it?
Having decided to join the ranks of home‑studio owners, I spent months researching different setups and getting quotes. One store (which advertises with this magazine) seemed to have an enticing package, so I visited them in mid‑March with two friends. With the exception of two items, I was purchasing everything new, so we're not talking about a small sum of money here.
Problem number one: the two used items were a Roland D50 keyboard, of which I had the choice of two, and a set of monitors. The monitors were in excellent condition; of the keyboards, one was mint and the other was, let's say, well loved. I was told the price was the same for both keyboards, so naturally I chose the one that was in better condition. The prices quoted seemed fair, so I was happy — until I bought my April SOS. There were my used items advertised in black and white, but not at the prices I had paid! I immediately phoned the store and asked why they had charged me more than their quotes in a national magazine. The monitors were said to be "a misprint"; as for the D50, I was told that the cheaper price was for the unit that had been well used. As my friends remembered, this was not the case; but, as I had already paid for these items, the shop refused to do anything about it. What really disturbed me, though, was when one of the people working there said: "Oh, we frequently put in fake prices to bring in the punters...".
Problem number two involved a Digitech Studio Vocalist. Again, the shop had this in their ad, at quite an attractive price for a new unit. This time, their in‑store quote matched their ad — until I decided to order one, when the price suddenly went up. I argued until I was blue in the face, pointing out that with all the money I had spent in their shop they could at least stick to their original written quote. I ended up ordering one for £899, figuring that for the extra £20 I'd get something in kind or whatever. This is when the real nightmares began.
My friends and I had noticed the salesman making snide remarks about the distributor, which I thought was surprising. But the store told me that an order had been placed, so I waited. And waited. Five weeks after I'd paid for it, the computer side of my system arrived — without the Studio Vocalist. I was told that the distributor did not have them in stock, and could not foresee a delivery date in the near future. This sounded extremely odd to me, and when I started voicing my doubts, I was told that the store had cancelled their order with the supplier, but hey presto — they'd found one in Glasgow! Two more weeks went by ("They're obviously waiting for the cheque to clear. You know how the Scots are..."). I'm not saying that I fell for all this, but they'd had my money for some time and I just wanted the damn unit. Lo and behold, it arrived from the Glasgow store — but wait, there's, uh, kind of a problem, they say. It's not new, it's ex‑demo. Well, that was it. Even my ladylike tolerance evaporated. Still the store continued to lie, making it appear that the Scottish store had somehow pulled a fast one. But the worst part was that they actually thought that, having paid for a new unit and waited all this time, I would take an ex‑demo — and pay the new price! They also refused to refund my money. As the level and unprintability of my language increased, the story altered again. They were so upset about what this sneaky Glaswegian store had done that they rang and shouted at them. Quaking in its boots, the store had offered to send a new one within the week. In the meantime, my lovely store generously offered to bring me over "the dud" (their words) until the new one arrived. Thank goodness I refused this: I'm convinced that had I accepted it I would never have seen another unit. I gave them a week to deliver the unit, otherwise I would be raising hell. In the meantime, I called the supplier and was told that they could not understand the situation, as they had units in stock and there were no delivery problems. I waited. D‑day arrived and no‑one called, so I did. By now I had managed to scare away the entire staff except the poor guitar technician — suddenly various people had errands at the bank or the post office. In the end I had to call in some muscle; I managed to get my money back, but I feel I was lucky.
The only explanation I can think of is that, due to bad credit with the supplier, the store could not place the order with them, and never did so. They tried to hold on to my money while they searched for a unit that would make them a profit, like the ex‑demo one. They're still advertising these units in SOS as if they can get them new, as well as advertising the monitors that I bought at the cheaper price. And how many other stores are doing the same thing? It's false advertising and it shouldn't be allowed.
I had to do most of my dealings with this store by phone; perhaps if I had been able to visit them every day and scream until all the other customers left, the whole thing wouldn't have dragged on for so long. But what about more inexperienced buyers, who don't have the strength (or the alcohol tolerance) to fight?
And what did the store get out of this, in the end? My lost custom for the future, and that of my friends who have much larger studios than I do, and their friends. They've lost an inestimable amount of money trying to gain a few hundred extra out of me. How many other readers have had similar experiences? And can we do anything about this?