By the time I returned to the office, I was all fired up. Even though I had a considerable amount of work on my desk, all I could think about was writing that letter. The more I stewed over what had happened, the more I wanted to make sure I wrote it down before the details slipped away. And so I wrote and wrote.

1000 words later, I’d gotten it all down and begun to feel better to boot (ah, the therapeutic virtues of writing). My only concern with the letter was that I knew I had an obligation to not disclose that I worked for Paula, but at the same time, it absolutely shouldn’t matter who I am or what I do, since I was shade-shopping and taking down information in no different manner than any other customer would. So in my letter I stretched the truth by saying I worked for a local makeup artist (which isn’t much of a stretch, actually; both Paula and Bryan are makeup artists).

In hindsight, I should’ve asked for permission to just disclose that I worked for Paula and Beautypedia, because there is really no reason that this should be objectionable to Ulta; we highly recommend hundreds of the products they sell, and spend hundreds of dollars (if not more) in their store. In fact, the work that we do ultimately drives business to Ulta! Any cosmetic retailer with business savvy should welcome us warmly.

In order to send the letter to Ulta corporate, I trolled Ulta’s “Contact Us” page, and to my delight, there was a phone number through which I could log my complaint with Guest Services (rather than sending my letter into the abyss). After a series of prompts, I found myself talking to a real-live person to whom I began recounting my story. She listened, and I could hear her typing away as I spoke.

“The manager on duty said that it’s against store policy to write anything down. Is that true?”

The representative replied, “You are not allowed to take photographs of any kind in Ulta stores.”

“I wasn’t taking photos; I was taking notes. Is there a policy against note-taking?”

“Our policy is that no photos are allowed to be taken in our stores or of our storefront”

“I didn’t have a camera. I had print-outs from Ulta.com and a black pen.”

This inane exchange continued, and it was as though I had encountered a glitch in the matrix: I kept telling her that I didn’t have a camera, and she kept telling me that there were no photos allowed. Finally, after taking down my contact information, she said that she’d forward my complaint to the store’s District Manager and that person would contact me by phone within 48 hours. Sensing that perhaps she’d misunderstood what had happened, I decided to cover my bets.

“Can you give me the District Manager’s name so that I’m prepared when they call?”

“I can assure you that she will announce herself when she calls.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like her name.”

She sighed — she actually sighed! And then I could hear typing.

“Ma’am, I cannot find her name at this time.”

This should have been the final straw. Still, I tried to keep cool.

“Look, I don’t want to seem combative here, but how can you possibly forward my complaint if you don’t know who you are forwarding it to?”

Another sigh.

“If it’s that important to you, I can go look it up.”

“Of course it’s important to me! I’ve taken the time to call you, but at this point I don’t have a lot of confidence that you’ve understood what happened or that the right person will hear about this, since you can’t be bothered to look up their name.”

“Please hold.”

While the muzak played, I turned to Brooke, my office mate, and told her everything, and I even posed the possibility that this was all an elaborate prank and that hidden cameras might emerge any moment. She shared my disbelief, but added, “I guess that would explain why their in-store service was so lousy. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She’s a wise lady.

After a few minutes, the representative returned and gave me the District Manager’s name. I thanked her, and our call ended.

A few minutes later, a well-connected colleague who had heard my ranting all the way from her office, gave me the direct email address of that same Ulta District Manager. (Ironic that the staff here was more helpful than Ulta’s own Guest Services!) Using that email address, I sent the District Manager my epic letter directly. To my surprise, within 3 minutes (incidentally, probably not long enough for her to have actually read my letter), I received the following reply:

Dear Ms. Burnett,

Sincerely,
XXXXXXX
District Manager

Of course, it didn’t undo what had happened, but her professionalism and the promptness of her reply did make me feel better. I didn’t bother telling her about the petulant Guest Service Representative’s incompetency on the phone. At that point, I just needed closure! In my response to her, I simply said, “Once this is sorted out with your team, I would be happy to continue shopping at Ulta, as long as I can be assured that no member of the staff will publicly embarrass me or anyone else again for taking notes.”

The whole experience reminded me that this is an industry that overall doesn’t appreciate customers who want to make careful, informed decisions about what they buy, and prefers instead to keep itself cloaked under a shroud of secrecy and marketing nonsense.

It’s worth mentioning that I needed to go back to Ulta the next day on business (though I opted for a different location), and as a precautionary measure, I printed out that email from the District Manager, should anyone have given me any trouble for taking notes. I’m happy to report that my subsequent Ulta experience was hassle-free, if not actually enjoyable! Ultimately, I hope my “showdown” at Ulta will keep other consumers from going through a similar experience.

I ’m still in a state of disbelief over what transpired at an Ulta store earlier this week. Needing to purchase some products and gather information on a line, I came into Ulta with a few product print-outs from their Web site. Generally, I use these to take notes on shades and finishes, so that I can put check marks next to noteworthy colors and jot down information about the product’s texture, finish and packaging. Most of these notes are in shorthand, so it’s not as though I’m hunched over, writing novel-like in the store. Given that the store’s motto is “Play, touch, test, learn and explore,” and given that my print-outs all came from Ulta.com, there was no conceivable reason for me to think that the following was about to unfold. But unfold it did, and it left me more enraged and embarrassed than I can describe. But I’ll try nevertheless!

After being in the store for less than an hour, discretely taking notes, a floor manager approached me.

“Can I help you with anything?” she asked.

“I’m good,” I replied and smiled.

She then came at me, quite close, and said, “You are not allowed to write anything down in our store. I have to ask you to leave.”

I let out a small laugh; I was surprised, thinking that surely she misunderstood what I was doing. She pointed her finger at me and said, “Don’t act surprised. You’ve been told this before.” Her eyes narrowed at me.

I had, in fact, never been told that before, so I said “No I haven’t, and I don’t appreciate your tone or your accusation.” What ensued from there was nothing less than a full-blown verbal blow-out in the middle of the store, with customers and sales associates watching us argue whether or not I was allowed to take notes.

And it got heated. The more that I tried to reason with her, allowing her to look at my notes and see that they were completely innocent (and printed out from Ulta’s website no less!), the more she dug in her heels. She told me that if I wanted information about products, I could ask a salesperson.

“Can I write down what the salesperson says?”

“No.”

I told her this was all very ironic considering Ulta’s slogan encourages learning and exploring, “Doesn’t ‘learning’ include writing things down?”

She said, “It’s against store policy.” (I would later learn this is 100% false.)

“It’s against store policy to write things down?”

“Yes.”

But there’s more: she went on to say that testers are for personal use, (though I was “personally” using them, wasn’t I?) and that only paying customers are allowed to use testers.

“So,” I asked, “I have to buy the product before I use the tester?”

“Now you’re just being condescending to me,” she snapped.

“Well, you’re making it very easy for me.”

This went on and on, because she kept making ridiculous and illogical statements that were just too outrageous not to question. Even though I was mortified (and visibly shaking from all the adrenalin), I knew that I’d done nothing wrong and didn’t back down for a second. Seeing that logic was having no effect, I attempted reason, explaining that I had indeed planned on buying something, and that this was part of my shopping process. I even told her she could scan my Ulta card to see for herself the considerable amount of money I’ve spent at Ulta stores. But whatever I said to her, she just continued to demand that I leave the store—almost, it seemed at that point, on principle. When I asked if I was banned permanently, she said—and get this—as long as I put my print-outs and pen in my car, I was allowed back inside to make my purchase. So, like a scolded child, she watched me walk my papers to my car, and then come back in to be rung up. Had I not absolutely needed to make the purchases, I would have surely walked away and never returned. As a paying customer, I have never been so belittled, harassed and infuriated. Ever.

While I was rung up, I thanked her. “You’re welcome,” she said, with a smug smile, as if she’d somehow proved a point to me.

“I wasn’t finished,” I said. As I took my bag from her hand and looked her in the eye, I continued, “Thank you… for giving me the opportunity to write the most vitriolic letter ever composed when I explain to your District Manager that I was asked to leave your store for note-taking while I shopped.”

“I told you, if you need help selecting shades, then you must ask a salesperson for help.”

“So Ulta won’t allow their customers to think for themselves? I’ll be sure to add that to my letter.” And I left.

The story doesn’t end here, but I’ll save what happened next for a future blog!