“It’s a bait-and-switch!” I said. I wasn’t yelling, exactly. But I wasn’t whispering, either.

I was standing at the counter at a Princeton, N.J., computer store, repeating this term in ever more forceful tones as other customers gathered around. I was finding that if you say “bait and switch” three or four times, it really makes you the life of the party.

The manager I was addressing looked like he was trying to decide whether to give me what I wanted or call security. I figured if he took the latter course, I’d go limp  like protesters did in the ’60s.

It was a Friday evening a few weeks ago and I had rushed to the store from work to buy a $600 handheld computer for $250, thanks to a package of discounts and rebates ending that day. (I’m not supposed to use this space to settle personal scores, else I’d happily name the chain.)

At first, the store clerk couldn’t find the rebate forms, but eventually one of the three forms materialized. Then he couldn’t get the register to print out the next form, and a supervisor had to be called in to solve the problem. The third form couldn’t be found anywhere, so they wrote an IOU on my receipt and told me to come back.

But the final problem looked like a deal killer. The handheld was supposed to come with a $39 memory chip packaged separately, but the clerks couldn’t find one, even though their computer reported eight in stock.

“Well,” I said, “Give me an IOU for that, too.”

No, the clerk said, we don’t give rain checks on sale items. It’s a corporate policy.

He didn’t even say he was sorry.

I pointed out that I had called ahead that morning to have the handheld put aside. I had not been told the chip wouldn’t be included in the deal, or I’d have gone to another store in the chain.

Whom had I talked to, the clerk asked. Well, I didn’t know, I conceded. But obviously I’d talked to someone, I said, as the device had been left in the office with my name on it.

Getting nowhere with this approach, I said, OK, since this was a corporate policy and not the clerk’s fault, I’d take the unit without the chip and complain to the corporate headquarters.

He winced and said that would cause him no end of paperwork. He got his supervisor.

The supervisor repeated the “no rain checks” line and pointed to the fine print on the ad that said the deal was good only while supplies lasted. They were out of the chip, so I’d have to take the handheld without, he said.

I said I’d be glad to, if they’d cut $39 off the price. He said that was against policy, too.

I tried a new tack: They weren’t out of the chip  the computer said they had eight, even if they couldn’t find them.

They searched again, or said they did. No luck.

That’s when I hit upon my final gambit.

“This is bait and switch!” I said, sort of loudly. The supervisor seemed to cringe a bit. Encouraged, I repeated the term a few times, turning to make sure the other customers could hear. A little crowd started to gather.

Well, I got my IOU and went back a few days later and got my memory chip. I’d finally pushed the right button.

Complaining champ

I don’t tell this story because I’m a whiz at complaining. Like any consumer, I occasionally get into a tiff over a product or service; sometimes I get what I think I’m entitled to, sometimes I don’t.

I had great success, for example, in a recent complaint to McDonald’s Corp., which had disappointed my 7-year-old by running out of the kid’s meal toys he wanted. McDonald’s hadn’t done anything wrong, as they clearly state these offers are good only while supplies last.

But I got on the Internet and found names and addresses for McDonald’s top officers. I wrote four of them firm but calmly worded letters, describing how my son had looked forward all summer to this particular set of toys, and how we’d gone to three McDonald’s restaurants seeking the missing items. My payoff line was about how 7 is “too young to be learning harsh lessons about broken promises.”

A few days later four boxes came to the house, each with a letter of apology and a full assortment of the missing toys.

Some people are great at getting exactly what they want, some not so good.

I hope this isn’t sexist, but I have a feeling that our culture trains women and men differently in this area. I’m great at complaining when I feel morally wronged. But if I decide I made a bad choice, I kick myself and live with it  even if I don’t have to. On the other hand, a woman I know returns things all the time. If she decides she picked the wrong color or something, back it goes.

Attention complainers

Experts say there is a proper technique for getting what you want: Deal with the highest-ranking manager you can find. Don’t give your adversary an out by cursing or shouting names. Be clear about the remedy you seek. Wear them down with persistence.

But I’d like to know more about the art of complaining.

In other words, I’d like to know how you do it. Tell me about your most effective complaints, as well as the approaches that failed.

This will be another contest, like the cheapskates contest I had last winter.

Once again, there’s no big prize. But I’ll do my best to make you famous. In a few weeks, some grouchy, indignant reader will be crowned Complainer of the Year.