I (Don't) Like to Move It, Move It
I'm moving later this month and need to buy some furniture. I'd been putting it off - not sure why; probably a mix of not wanting to part with all the money I've earned and not wanting to think about the realities of the difficulties associated with moving - but whatever it was, the time had come to get serious.
On Sunday, while driving out of a shopping plaza, I saw that a mattress store was having a 50% off sale, and that was it. I was buying my bed. Right then, right there. And in spite of the worst hound of a saleswoman in mattress history, I did. (This woman wanted more than commission. She wanted me to invite her over for dinner as thanks. Every time I mention my bed, she wants me to mention where I bought it and who I bought it from. She probably wants me to say a silent (or actually, aloud) thank you to her every time I get into the freaking thing.)
Two days later, my friend Doug and I took a trip to IKEA. Once I had the bed, I figured it was time to start with the whole bureau/dresser thing and I also wanted a couch. Easy enough; I'd have the furniture delivered, along with my new bed (THANK YOU, OLGA) when I moved in. So naive.
My IKEA trip was anything but peaceful. It started off well enough; the place has a great reputation for furniture and I understand why. It's nice stuff, and it's not expensive, and the selection is ridiculous. The only thing is, I didn't understand the whole shop/buy/deliver process, and that's what got me yesterday.
To make a (very) long story short, I'll just say that my idea to have my furniture delivered pretty much blew up right in my face at the Home Delivery Desk, right in front of this guy Liam and his stupid giggly sidekick, whose name I did not get and, quite frankly, never care to know. When she told me that no, I would not be paying the standard $99 fee for delivery, but $250 (to that in a minute), she could not stifle her amusement. It seemed hilarious to her that the delivery fee would be roughly half what I paid for all my furniture. Hahahahaha, she chortled. Hahahahaha, fuck you.
Pretty much it boiled down to this: you have 10 days to get your furniture delivered once you buy it and wheel it over to the delivery desk (pardon ME for thinking that you could go up to the delivery desk, tell them what you wanted to buy, and have them deliver it without you going and putting a huge couch on a metal cart and rolling it over yourself), and if you go beyond that, there's a $10 fee per day that goes beyond that period. Oh, and if you decide, hey, okay then, I'll just go and return this couch (which, yes, you then have to roll across the whole store - which is like a freakin indoor amusement park - to the exchange/return desk) and order it from the catalog for delivery, they've outsmarted you there too: you have to pay for the shipping and delivery according to the weight. Welcome to $200 land, friend! Or, say you decide, okay, I'll just drive out here ten days prior to my move-in, you're told, "Well, there are three of these couches left. And once they're gone, we're not reordering until... ooh, looks like September 10th." In other words, "Pay up the wazoo, pal."
Well, George Banks is saying no.
In this scenario, George Banks was Doug (and then me) and we were not dealing with eight hot dogs and eight hot dog buns, we were dealing with one giant couch, two heavy boxes of dresser materials, and a mirror. And so, we decided to forget this $250 (HAHAHA, said Home Delivery Desk Twit) and load everything into Doug's truck.
And by "we," I really mean "Doug," because he was the one who had loaded the couch and boxes onto the cart in the first place; he was the one who noticed the rip in the first couch and gone back to take it off and put the new one on; he ran back to the aisle for the dresser boxes when the cashier noticed that we only had one of two boxes needed for the dresser assembly (and after picking up the box, I have no idea how he carried it back on his shoulder, but whatever); he put the couch on his truck and tied it down with bungee cords; he took the mirror away from me and my neck in the front seat; he unloaded the couch, crammed it into the elevator (at one point crawling into the elevator to get it in right), and got it into the office.
What did I do? I stood around and said things like, "Where do you want me?" "What should I do?" And the amazing thing is that he didn't once snap at me to get the fuck out of the way or shut the fuck up, because I could honestly say that I wouldn't have blamed him one bit if he said any of it. But he didn't, and he didn't complain once. If there's a silver lining in this whole IKEA escapde, it's that. Doug didn't have to go to IKEA with me, but he did. And there were several points in the IKEA trip where he could have said, "Let's forget it. Let's just forget it," but he didn't. He could have kept quiet about having the truck and made me cough up the cash for the delivery system, but he wouldn't let me. He's moving on Sunday, out of state, and he won't be here on the first. I bet he's glad, because I think if he has to move that couch again, he's going to kill someone (I don't know if the animosity will fade and he'll be able to sit on it one day; we'll see). And though yeah, I worried about not having him around on the 1st, and I realized that it would be better to have him here on that day, yesterday I knew that my move was the least of my concerns; I'd be sad about that on more days than the first.
So that's what I have to take from this. When I was flipping out about moving and the couch and the furniture, people came around. Doug, my dad, my dad's friend, my boss... everyone was like, "How can WE help YOU?" And that was really nice.
I wish I could say the same about the IKEA people and the Home Delivery Twit. But that's life.
On Sunday, while driving out of a shopping plaza, I saw that a mattress store was having a 50% off sale, and that was it. I was buying my bed. Right then, right there. And in spite of the worst hound of a saleswoman in mattress history, I did. (This woman wanted more than commission. She wanted me to invite her over for dinner as thanks. Every time I mention my bed, she wants me to mention where I bought it and who I bought it from. She probably wants me to say a silent (or actually, aloud) thank you to her every time I get into the freaking thing.)
Two days later, my friend Doug and I took a trip to IKEA. Once I had the bed, I figured it was time to start with the whole bureau/dresser thing and I also wanted a couch. Easy enough; I'd have the furniture delivered, along with my new bed (THANK YOU, OLGA) when I moved in. So naive.
My IKEA trip was anything but peaceful. It started off well enough; the place has a great reputation for furniture and I understand why. It's nice stuff, and it's not expensive, and the selection is ridiculous. The only thing is, I didn't understand the whole shop/buy/deliver process, and that's what got me yesterday.
To make a (very) long story short, I'll just say that my idea to have my furniture delivered pretty much blew up right in my face at the Home Delivery Desk, right in front of this guy Liam and his stupid giggly sidekick, whose name I did not get and, quite frankly, never care to know. When she told me that no, I would not be paying the standard $99 fee for delivery, but $250 (to that in a minute), she could not stifle her amusement. It seemed hilarious to her that the delivery fee would be roughly half what I paid for all my furniture. Hahahahaha, she chortled. Hahahahaha, fuck you.
Pretty much it boiled down to this: you have 10 days to get your furniture delivered once you buy it and wheel it over to the delivery desk (pardon ME for thinking that you could go up to the delivery desk, tell them what you wanted to buy, and have them deliver it without you going and putting a huge couch on a metal cart and rolling it over yourself), and if you go beyond that, there's a $10 fee per day that goes beyond that period. Oh, and if you decide, hey, okay then, I'll just go and return this couch (which, yes, you then have to roll across the whole store - which is like a freakin indoor amusement park - to the exchange/return desk) and order it from the catalog for delivery, they've outsmarted you there too: you have to pay for the shipping and delivery according to the weight. Welcome to $200 land, friend! Or, say you decide, okay, I'll just drive out here ten days prior to my move-in, you're told, "Well, there are three of these couches left. And once they're gone, we're not reordering until... ooh, looks like September 10th." In other words, "Pay up the wazoo, pal."
Well, George Banks is saying no.
In this scenario, George Banks was Doug (and then me) and we were not dealing with eight hot dogs and eight hot dog buns, we were dealing with one giant couch, two heavy boxes of dresser materials, and a mirror. And so, we decided to forget this $250 (HAHAHA, said Home Delivery Desk Twit) and load everything into Doug's truck.
And by "we," I really mean "Doug," because he was the one who had loaded the couch and boxes onto the cart in the first place; he was the one who noticed the rip in the first couch and gone back to take it off and put the new one on; he ran back to the aisle for the dresser boxes when the cashier noticed that we only had one of two boxes needed for the dresser assembly (and after picking up the box, I have no idea how he carried it back on his shoulder, but whatever); he put the couch on his truck and tied it down with bungee cords; he took the mirror away from me and my neck in the front seat; he unloaded the couch, crammed it into the elevator (at one point crawling into the elevator to get it in right), and got it into the office.
What did I do? I stood around and said things like, "Where do you want me?" "What should I do?" And the amazing thing is that he didn't once snap at me to get the fuck out of the way or shut the fuck up, because I could honestly say that I wouldn't have blamed him one bit if he said any of it. But he didn't, and he didn't complain once. If there's a silver lining in this whole IKEA escapde, it's that. Doug didn't have to go to IKEA with me, but he did. And there were several points in the IKEA trip where he could have said, "Let's forget it. Let's just forget it," but he didn't. He could have kept quiet about having the truck and made me cough up the cash for the delivery system, but he wouldn't let me. He's moving on Sunday, out of state, and he won't be here on the first. I bet he's glad, because I think if he has to move that couch again, he's going to kill someone (I don't know if the animosity will fade and he'll be able to sit on it one day; we'll see). And though yeah, I worried about not having him around on the 1st, and I realized that it would be better to have him here on that day, yesterday I knew that my move was the least of my concerns; I'd be sad about that on more days than the first.
So that's what I have to take from this. When I was flipping out about moving and the couch and the furniture, people came around. Doug, my dad, my dad's friend, my boss... everyone was like, "How can WE help YOU?" And that was really nice.
I wish I could say the same about the IKEA people and the Home Delivery Twit. But that's life.
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