RMA‘s are such a hassle; spend hours convincing a customer rep. the product you bought in pristine condition imploded, and many shipping adventures later hope that you get a working replacement which isn’t too worn out from its previously unsatisfied owner (i.e., refurbished).
Sometimes, though, the process is so easy you wonder just how much they’re making selling it to you the first time around.
The last time this happened, I spent a few dollars on a cheapo flying saucer thingy which did not take crashes well; the styrofoam split after a particularly vicious encounter with a cubicle closet. Fortunately, customer service turned out to be a pleasant experience as they immediately offered to send out a new one on 3-day shipping at no charge and to trash the broken one since it was, after all, around $1 of construction material and electronics.
Turns out it’s applicable to $80 retailed electronics too. I decided to upgrade my mouse – it takes about two years before Microsoft or Logitech adds enough new buttons for me to learn how to grapple a 12-button mouse into submission – to the famed Logitech MX Revolution, also known as the “world’s most advanced mouse”.
Its biggest selling point was a mechanical latch on the scroll wheel allowing it to scroll-click and spin freely (think scrolling through hundred-page documents) at the same time. It worked fine initially, but mine called it quits early and (I think) with a physically loosened latch, everything was in free-spin mode. The thing is sealed like a rock, though, making cracking it open to examine its innards impossible, but I figured a Logitech hardware engineer would have little trouble opening it and repairing it for resale. Turns out:
“Hi, I’d like to exchange a MX Revolution mouse. The clicking doesn’t work anymore.”
“I can help you with that. What’s the serial number on the mouse?”
“XX-XXXX-XXX-XX”
“And the product number?”
“XXXX-XXXX-X”
“Now, what’s the serial number on the charger?”
“XX-XXX-XXXXX”
“And its product number?”
“….”
“How about the power adapter?”
“[bead of sweat]”
“On the back of the box there’s a sliding block puzzle. What’s the number on the last piece?”
Eventually, their number fetish subsided and they agreed to send me a new one, provided I trash the defective one. That is, it was not worth the $5 shipping charge to retrieve a perfectly working charger base, power brick, USB wireless adapter, and a potentially repairable mouse, something they were charging $80 for.
Sometimes the process is so easy you wonder just how much they’re making selling it to you the first time around.