Drama Down at the Wal-Mart

I know that I should just stop shopping there. I applaud those of you who have been able to. But until I can find myself a local grocery store that I can afford to shop at and still use brand name coupons at, I’m afraid I’m bound to the old ball-and-chain.

Usually it’s the customers that drive me batty. Very rarely has it been an employee. There was the one that made me stop and think about my situation. I don’t think I ever told you about the time that I was approached by a Moonie in the store. I went over to a couple of employees that were standing together and said, “Excuse me, there is a young man proselytizing over there.” The looks on their faces revealed one of two things: either they didn’t know what the word meant or they thought I was talking about prostitution. Anyway.

Yesterday, I had some of my wedding photos sent to my mom’s local Wal-Mart so that she could pick them up on her way home from church. She and my dad are going to be down in Texas this week and she gets to see her best friend for the first time in a while. Her friend was planning on being at my wedding, but was unable to when her son was involved in a serious accident just a week before the wedding. So, naturally, Mom wanted to take some pictures to show her.

I need to preface all of this by saying that I ordered over 400 prints from Wal-Mart just a couple of months ago. The same wedding pictures that I was sending to my mom (only she was getting around 35). They were printed at the Wal-Mart Photo Center and mailed to me at my house. At no time was I asked for a copyright release because when I ordered these photos I agreed that they were my property and that I was not trying to make copies of copyrighted materials.

So when I sent in my order for Mom’s photos early Sunday morning, I had no thought that she would have any trouble at the photo center. First mistake.

Mom called around 12:30 yesterday afternoon. I could tell by the tone in her voice that something wasn’t right.

“This lady says I can’t have your pictures.”

“What? I put your name on there as the pick-up name.”

“No, she says that we don’t own the pictures and that the photographer has to sign a copyright release.”

“Did you tell her that we do own the pictures? We paid for the rights.”

“I tried to tell her,” she said, “but she’s not having any of it.”

The whole time I could hear this lady ranting and raving in the background.

“Here, Mom. Let me talk to her.” At this moment, I am still really calm. I figure she just doesn’t understand that I am the copyright owner.

Silence on the other end.

“Ma’am?” I say.

“WHAT?” Okay. So. We’re yelling. Good to know that’s where we’re starting this thing.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I think there is some confusion. I own the copyright to these photos.”

“No. You can’t. These are professionally done. I can tell.”

“Well, yes. A friend of mine took them for my wedding and I paid her, but I bought the rights to them as well.”

“You can’t do that. The rights belong to whoever took the pictures. She’s going to have to fill out a copyright form and fax it to us here. I am not giving nobody any of these pictures until I get that form from her.”

“I’m sorry. What I’m trying to tell you is that she can’t sign the form. I am the one who owns the copyright. I’m the one who would have to sign the rights over.”

“No, ma’am. You are wrong about that. And if this person is really your friend like you’re tellin’ me, then I don’t see why it’d be such a big deal to get the papers signed.”

“Ma’am, what I am telling you is that she isn’t the person who needs to sign any papers. I own the photos. Please just tell me what I need to do to get them printed.”

“I ain’t arguing with nobody. And you ain’t gettin’ these pictures.”

I’m working hard to keep myself composed at this point. How hard is it to understand that I own the rights to the pictures?

“Well, I guess we won’t be doing business there anymore.”

“FINE.”

At that point she put my mom’s phone down on the counter. Mom grabbed it.

“Elizabeth. She is shredding them. She is shredding the pictures. She is…shredding every…single…one — of your wedding pictures!” (My mom never yells in public. It should be noted that this was a “whisper yell,” as is her style. She would want you all to know that )

“GET HER NAME!” (I’ll also note that I do yell. In a screamy, crying way. People really respect that.)

“I think it’s Tracie.”

“GET HER LAST NAME. I’m calling a manager.”

So she got her last name for me. And in the background the woman is going on, “Ain’t going to do you no good. This is policy.”

Well, long story short, I looked up their copyright policy. Guess what lady? I am the owner (as well as my mother) and you have a document on hand that either of us could have signed and presto, all would have been done. But no, you went on some kinda powertrip. I signed and faxed the document to all the appropriate places. Later that afternoon my mom called back and spoke to a manager. This lady was helpful — and livid. What the woman in the photo center did was NOT policy. They don’t shred the photos, they hold them. She never indicated that we could sign a document stating that we owned the images, only accused us of trying to steal someone else’s work.

The manager was there that evening when my mom returned. The photos were printed and our copyright document was on file. The crazy lady from earlier in the day was back there working, but never said a word to my mother. Her supervisor, however, only charged us $2 and gave us her apology.

I’m still writing my letter. I don’t know if this employee was poorly trained or what. I do know that she had no idea what their copyright policy was on photos and that she told my mom and I both something that was completely off the wall. In the future I will not have any of my photos printed there and I want Wal-Mart to know that it is not because of the quality of the prints, but because of the quality of service we received from one employee. For the life of me I cannot fathom why you would behave in such a way toward paying customers in this sort of economy. Why on earth would you risk your job in such a way, just to be able to throw what little authority you have around. As my retired Marine substitute teacher used to say to me in 8th grade when he’d catch me chewing gum, “That’s unattractive.”

UPDATE: After doing this simple search, I’ve found that this is not at all uncommon. That is, for Wal-Mart employees to refuse to hand over your photos and refuse to budge on not believing that you are either the owner or artist. If you are going to do business with these people go to their copyright page and have this document in hand when you go to the lab. Save yourself some heartache. Or, you know, DON’T GIVE THEM BUSINESS AT ALL.

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