Dear Avenue.com: I Hate You. I Really, Really Hate You.

Oh Avenue. ALL I WANT TO DO IS GIVE YOU MONEY IN EXCHANGE FOR GOODS. That’s all! I don’t want us to be friends. I don’t even care if we’re barely civil to one another, given that I loathe probably 85% of what’s on your website at any given moment and I resent that you occupy a goodly portion of the already-limited map of plus-size options that go up to a 5X, sprawling all over territory I am inclined to think would be better employed by a greater diversity of non-floral apparel options. We don’t have to like each other. BUT, given that you are supposed to be a STORE (whence people MAKE PURCHASES, just to be clear) I don’t expect that buying things from you should be met with apparently willful obstruction at every bloody turn. In fact, I’d be happiest if my experience with you went so smoothly that I barely noticed the transaction had taken place. Unfortunately, this is not how things tend to go.

Every once in a great while, I’ll need to buy one of the items you do well. Such as your seamless bike shorts, or your high-cut underpants, or your swimwear (truly, two of my favorite swimsuits of the past couple years came from you). You’ll note here that I am not linking to any of these items’ product pages on your website. I would LIKE to link to these items, as I am a blogger and links are what bloggers thrive on. That’s just one small example of why your website is such an unmitigated disaster. A person cannot link to any individual product page. This is essentially the philosophical antithesis of usefulness. Do you realize how idiotic your unlinking website is? Without functioning links, why have a website at all? Why not just draw pictures of your garments using lampblack on papyrus and distribute them by carrier pigeon to the fat people of the world?

Furthermore: I cannot honestly tell you how many times in recent months I have selected a number of garments, placed them in the shopping cart on your site, and attempted to make my purchase, only to run into so many difficulties that I inevitably throw up my hands and close the browser window, flinging an array of expletives at both you at your parentage as I do so.

Avenue, if you were a person, the following have been the conversation we had this morning. Though this is a dramatized version, everything I describe attempting here in my failed efforts to make my purchase is 100% true.

Lesley and Avenue sit across from one another at a table. The only light onstage issues from a laptop sitting between them.

Me: “Hey Avenue, I’d like to make a purchase. I need some bras and tanks and have put them in your shopping bag thingy. The trouble is, I’ve forgotten my password. Luckily you have a ‘forgot your password?’ link here.”
Avenue: “Oh, I’m sorry. That doesn’t actually work. But I hope this error message is helpful to you!”
Me: “It’s not, actually. Um. I guess I’ll use the ‘checkout as a guest’ option.”
Avenue: “Great! Hi stranger! What’s your billing address?”
Me: [Enters billing address.]
Avenue: “Excellent! What’s your shipping address?”
Me: [Enters shipping address.]
Avenue: “Thank you! Now very important, this: would you like to receive thrice-daily emails from us about nothing?”
Me: [Ticks ‘no’ box.]
Avenue: “Hey, ARE YOU REALLY SURE ABOUT THAT? Mightn’t there be some confusing language I could use here to trick you into signing up?”
Me: “Yes, I am sure. No, there is not.”
Avenue: “Fabulous! Here’s your order confirmation screen! We’ll be shipping to [billing address] and thanks for signing up for our email list!”
Me: “Wait, no, I wanted to ship to [shipping address].”
Avenue: “Oh! Uh, then you can go back and edit, I think.”
Me: “You THINK?”
Avenue: “Sure! Give it a try!”
Me: [Goes back to address information screen, fixes shipping address, clicks ‘continue’.]
Avenue: “Here, again, is your order confirmation screen! We’ll be shipping to [billing address], and thanks ever so much for signing up for our email list! We’re already savagely beating your inbox to death, even as we speak!”
Me: “NO. I wanted to ship to [shipping address].”
Avenue: “Yes, [billing address].”
Me: “NO. I… ugh, maybe this is a browser problem, I’ll try it again in IE.”

Me: [Opens Internet Explorer. Puts selections into shopping cart again.]
Avenue: “Hi stranger! Would you like to sign up for our completely not overbearing email list? It’ll change your life!”
Me: “No, I am just trying to recreate my shopping cart so I can try my purchase again. Uh, why is this product page suddenly not loading?”
Avenue: “What are you talking about?”
Me: “Well, look, this page only loads halfway and then stops. How am I supposed to add this to my cart? Is it out of stock?”
Avenue: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It must be your browser.”
Me: “I’ve tried to load this page on three browsers, two computers, and an iPhone. The same partial page is loading on all of them.”
Avenue: “You are mistaken. There is no product page.”
Me: “But..”
Avenue: “THERE IS NO PRODUCT PAGE.”
Me: “Okay, fine, I guess I’ll skip that item.”
Avenue: “GREAT.”
Me: “I’m going to try checking out as a guest again, since the forgot password link is still resulting in a singularly non-helpful error message.”
Avenue: “Hi stranger! What’s your billing address?”
Me: [Enters billing address, enters shipping address, ticks ‘no’ box under email signup.]
Avenue: “Awesome! Here’s your order confirmation screen! We’ll be shipping to [billing address], and thanks ever so much for signing up for our email list!”
Me: “OH MY FUCKING GOD. Fine, maybe the problem is with the guest checkout. I’ll sign up for a new account and try to checkout.”
Avenue: “Hi stranger! Give me all your delicious personal information now!”
Me: “Uh, okay.” [Creates new account.]
Avenue: “Oh, hi Lesley! Let’s verify your address and shipping information before you check out!”
Me: “Looks good.”
Avenue: “You’re sure I can’t change your mind about the email list? You enjoy getting notices about floral-print tunics four or five times an hour, yes?”
Me: “NO.”
Avenue: “Alrighty! Here’s your order confirmation screen: we’ll be shipping to [shipping address], and though I am sad you didn’t sign up for the email list, I will get over it with time.”
Me: “FINALLY!” [Clicks ‘place order’ button.]
Avenue: “Oh, hi Lesley! Let’s verify your address and shipping information before you check out!”
Me: “Uh, didn’t we just do this, like two seconds ago?”
Avenue: “Nope! Let’s verify all this and then you’ll be checking out before you know it!”
Me: “Well… okay, it still looks correct to me.” [Clicks ‘continue’ button.]
Avenue: “Alrighty! Here’s your order confirmation screen: we’ll be shipping to [shipping address]. All that’s left for you to do is click that little ‘place order’ button down there on the right.”
Me: “Okay.” [Clicks ‘place order’ button.]
Avenue: “Oh, hi Lesley! Let’s verify your address and shipping information before you check out!”
Me: “DUDE, WE JUST DID THIS!”
Avenue: “No we didn’t.”
Me: “YES WE – oh fuck this. Fuck your website, and fuck your bras. I hate you. I have spent nearly an hour trying to make a purchase that should have taken less than ten minutes, and it still won’t go through. Since apparently I can’t buy anything, I am instead going to blog about this now. Goodbye.”
Avenue: “WAIT, WHAT ABOUT THE EMAIL LI–”

Curtain.

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