We have now been invited to a few homes for dinner. At the close of each meal, the expat host or hostess disappear into the kitchen and will re-emerge with what appears to be a jewelry case. The host/hostess will carefully open the case and offer a coffee or espresso. Every single time the host offers the coffee I think of the necklace scene in “Pretty Woman”!
I asked DH to look into getting the coffee maker that goes with that jewelry box. We can’t find the capsules for our beloved Keriug coffee maker (which is perfect for our family because everyone can have their favorites: hot chocolate, tea, and hazelnut coffee). It seemed like an option.
I honestly was less interested in the coffee maker, more interested in the jewelry case.
Then, DH told me how much that coffee maker that went with the jewelry case cost!
“Thanks for doing the research, DH. I’d rather have a purse. Please don’t buy that thing.”
As luck would have it, a family got a phone call: their company was sorry to inform them, they were needed in Switzerland. While that was great, it also sucked, because they had just spent the last 8 months replacing all of their European appliances with ones that would work in the US or Mexico. They had just purchased a baby Nespresso machine and now it was useless. Double bummer that they were needed in Switzerland before Christmas.
Everything must go!
DH was quick to respond. “Kim. These people have to get rid of their Nespresso machine. I told them you would come any time, day or night to pick it up. I’m out-of-town this weekend. It’s up to you!”
I went to their house, and picked up their machine. Indeed, they were sad to see it go. They were cradling their last cups of coffee as we left with their Nespresso. They still had the shopping bag and sample coffee that came with the machine.
All of the instructions were in French and Italian, so I turned to YouTube for some visual instructions, in English. I saw some coffee salesmen explaining the machine and its features, and they were aggressively promoting what appeared to be a milk steamer, cooler called an aeroccino. This little device looked cooler than the machine! We needed one.
DH and I decided to move our date nite to Tuesday, and visit the Nespresso store. The first five minutes of our visit to the Nespresso store were an epic disaster. I approached the saleswoman, told her what I wanted to purchase (a silver aeroccino like the one in the You Tube video) and she simply replied,”we don’t have any and walked away.”
This was a surprise to me. I don’t know why? The customer service here stinks. Everywhere. But expats rave passionately about the service at Nespresso, and I was not about to leave: I had a ton of questions, and I wanted that aeroccino for my morning coffee. If this bitchy woman were a salesperson in America, she would have worked to keep or continue the sale. Here, she just walked away.
Reminder: we are not in America.
I’m tired of rude salespeople.
I’m tired of rude people in general, actually.
And, I was NOT leaving that Nespresso store without that milk frother and I was not going to deal with her to get it. I told DH we would ask the nice looking (smiling) man at the other end of the counter for help.
Not only was this man handsome, but he was also patient, friendly and informative.
He explained that they did not have the color I wanted.
He demonstrated how the machine worked.
He made us expresso.
He enrolled us in the Nespresso Club.
He saved the day and made the sale.
And guess what, Andres (that’s his name), was only a trainee.
Now, if I were the boss in charge, I would promote Andres. He approached his job, and our business with enthusiasm. I thought he did a good job introducing us to the brand, its concept, the variation of flavors, and educating us on the product line. Quite impressive. He was very nice, and did not know I was busily writing everything he did down for this article. He was just doing his job with passion and enthusiasm.
I’m planning to Google this little machine and see where it’s sold in the States. I’m not familiar with it, and I can’t imagine an American paying that much for a machine without some level of personal and personable service. I’m excited to go to the other Nespresso stores in the city to compare the experience. Before we left, Andres did one more genius thing: he gave us a book of recipes! Brilliant.
I’m off to froth some milk and teach myself how to make a gingerbread latte.