Argos

Argos operates like machinery. Not unlike the vaults in Warehouse 13. You put in your order in one place, and automagically your purchase shows up at another counter within moments.
Having fried my electric shaver recently on a trip to the continent, I needed a rapid replacement. Though the price for the one I’d been eyeing on Amazon based on reviews was running for about £50ish, the same model at Argos was listed at £100 in the catalogue. When I brought my ticket up to the counter and asked if they had any promotions or sales, they told me the price was also roughly £50 there, too. Grand. I would’ve rather saved 50% by ordering online otherwise.
This kind of joint makes my inner industrial engineer feel warm and fuzzy. The ability to instantly check inventory and the distribution network that must sit behind the retail location operations must be pretty solid. Snappy!

Argos Gray’s Inn Road (A Song of Hate)
I used to like you,
‘Round the corner from my flat.
Your customers are always few,
And I really appreciate that.
But your manager today incited my rage.
She was completely unwilling to engage
Me in an exchange request, the silly twat.
I bought a fan three weeks ago
To combat the summer’s heat.
But it stopped working, and although
I bought it in Kensington, surely she could complete
An exchange when I carried it for a mile.
But, alas, she was vile
And dismissed me with no help.
I resolved to put this on Unilocal.
You see, I spoke to someone before
At the Argos on New Oxford Street.
Explaining the situation, I underscored
That I had no receipt.
She told me it didn’t matter
And with friendly chatter
Directed me to bring my defective fan
To any ol’ Argos location.
But the Gray’s Inn manager didn’t care,
And dismissed me with a wave of her hand in the air.
No offer to call
Kensington for clarification.
Indeed, no compassion at all.
I would have liked to maul
Her if it weren’t for my moderation.
So I hauled the fan on the Underground
Clear across London.
And, wouldn’t you know, I soon found
Kensington’s staff, not to be outdone,
Wanted to deny me an exchange.
I was beginning to feel quite deranged,
And really wished I had a gun
So I could have a world of fun
Speeding bullets through the brains
Of the folks who give me pains.