Wyn Drabble: Irked by not so clever Trevor

I know you can't sense this from where you are reading, but I am typing this quite angrily, hitting the keys with unnecessary vehemence.
I have had two-and-a-half hours of my time wasted by a national retail outlet and I don't appreciate it.
No, of course I'm not going to tell you the name of the outlet. For the purposes of this column I will just call it Trevor.
I went to Trevor because I wanted to buy a new-release CD. CDs from Trevor are generally cheaper than CDs from other outlets not called Trevor. I was in Palmerston North which has quite a large Trevor.
I asked the assistant to check on the computer first to see whether they had the item in stock. I didn't want to waste my time looking for a needle in a haystack, did I?
Yes, it had arrived recently and they had four copies in stock. Off I went to find one of them and buy it. I first checked the new releases wall. Nothing.
So I went to S on the alphabetical rack, for that was the first letter of the artist's surname and that is how the CDs were arranged to make them easier to find.
One by one, I went through all the CDs on the S rack but found nothing. I then noticed two copies of the CD recently released by my son's band, one under the letter U and one under X, so realised there was probably a bit of creativity in their alphabetical system.
After half an hour in the store (Trevor), I gave up and went back to my accommodation.
But I was the loser. I still wanted that CD. I didn't want a modern digital download of it: I'm an old-fashioned CD/record buyer who likes the complete physical package.
Call me a fool but the next day I went back, more determined.
"You have four copies of this CD in stock and I would like to buy one of them. Would you please tell me how I could achieve this?"
"Look under S in the rack over there."
"I did that yesterday but I'll do it again." And I did. One by one through all the S rack. Then I thought I would also check P for that was the initial letter of the artist's first name. Worth a shot.
Nothing.
Back to the counter for more advice. They could, if I wished, take my name and give me a call when they "found it".
"But that would mean having to come back a third time. And, anyway, we know it's here," I said. So I went back and started going through every CD under every letter of the alphabet. There could have been millions.
After about five letters of the alphabet, I gave up this approach and decided to appeal to a higher authority. I went to the information desk and asked if I could make an official complaint that might improve their future service. This brought the CD/DVD manager running and she went through everything I had already done: new releases wall, S rack, P rack, then random racks.
She even offered to "check out the back". She was gone a long time and eventually came back empty-handed.
I found another CD I wanted, Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons. One copy was marked $22.99 and another $21.99 so I took the cheaper one to checkout where I was charged $19.99. It must be a new pricing system they're trialling.
But it didn't make up for the fact that I had spent 30 minutes yesterday and two hours today trying to buy a CD they had but couldn't find.
I went to a specialist, non-Trevor, music shop down the road and paid the extra for Paul Simon's latest, which took about 10 seconds to locate.
I also remembered another album I wanted but the name of the artist had quite slipped my frazzled mind.
"Woman, singer-songwriter, in her late fifties, lives hard," I said trying to string together enough clues for the youngish attendant. Without flinching or asking for further clues, he handed me the latest by Lucinda Williams.
"Thank you," I said. "You don't know how much this all means to me. I'm even willing to pay a little extra if you wish.
"And may I buy you dinner?"
Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, public speaker and musician.