I bumped into a friend recently who was wearing a really cute pair of low-heeled gold sandals. “Oh, I love your sandals, they’re gorgeous,” I enthused, and was thrilled when she replied: “They are on sale for $40, I bought them online” from a major on-line fast fashion chain I won’t name.

I quickly hopped onto my mobile and ordered a pair. Exciting. $40.

The package arrived at my office just two days later. Exciting. I signed for it, and opened the box to find three of the ugliest knits I’ve ever seen. Not exciting.

I called the courier company. “There’s been a mistake,” I said. “I ordered gold sandals and I instead I have received three very, very hideous knits.”

The woman on the other end of the phone started laughing which made me like her. “It’s not our fault” she said, “The store has sent the wrong goods, you’ll have to call them. ”

So I call customer service.

“Hmm,” said the guy on the other end. “You’ll have to photograph the swing tags, and all the garments and email them to us. Then you will have to take them into the store before we can send you your shoes.”

Was it worth me explaining that if I went into a store, I wouldn’t be online shopping? Or that it was entirely their mistake and now the whole thing was one big hassle?

I dutifully photographed the heinous sweaters and then marched into a store a few days later. I had become that woman – I was wearing a knit hat and when I glanced in the mirror I had on way too much blusher. And happy shoes. And I was cranky. Your basic retail nightmare.

Of course I was asking to see the manager. The poor girl that served me was terribly nice, but their apparent policy is that the online customer has zero recourse. I left the store with them promising to return my money, in a fortnight or so. Maybe.

I thought, “You know what, this online thing sucks. I’m going back to shopping in an actual department store, old school style.”

I marched into the nearest one, straight to the beauty department. But no one was serving. Well, there was one woman at one luxury counter but she wasn’t budging from her station.

Plenty of cosmetics but not a worker in sight. Photo: Getty

“Where are the other staff?” I asked. Tumbleweeds, as far as the eye could see. If this were America, there would be 46 beauty advisors spraying you with Youth Dew, but nope, no one here in Bondi.

I imagine there are more store detectives than there are floor staff because the exasperation of not being able to purchase anything must be too much for a lot of people.

“Can you show me that face cream please?” I asked the one assistant.

“Hmm no, that’s not my area,” she replied. “And I don’t have a key to that cabinet.”

Does the beauty company know that after two years of R&D, months working on packaging, collateral, training, launch, beauty blogger events, PR and branding and the end result is that a customer who is prepared to pay retail is told there is no one to serve her?

Sorry to be the crank in too much blush but none of you deserve my money.