More Customer Service Retardry

Saturday, May 17, 2008

This morning, The First Baseman and I headed over to our friendly neighborhood Sears store to purchase a new refrigerator and stove, which is something we do once every 24.5 years. Yes, that is correct. In our 24.5 years of marriage and home ownership, this is the first time we have acquired one of these appliance via a method other than moving into a house where it's already there.

We made our selection and the sales guy wrote up the order and set a date for delivery. Then, he wrote up a separate purchase for a range hood, which is that light and fan mechanism that sucks all the stink out of the air when you cook brussels sprouts. The range hood is a no-big-deal, inexpensive, cash-and-carry sort of appliance, and so, when we shook hands with the sales guy after all was said and done, I made a motion to bend down and pick up the box that contained the appliance hood.

Since it is Customer Service Twilight Zone week, however, this move was not allowed. Oh, no. You can't just pay for something, then carry that something out the front door, put in in your car, and drive it to your house. Certainly not. What was I thinking?!

"You'll have to drive around to the loading dock to pick it up."

"But wait", sez I. "I sez, it's right here. And I paid for it. And it isn't heavy. And the door is right there. Can't I just take it?"

"No. You can pick it up in 15 minutes."

Yes. That made perfect sense. We poked around for a few minutes, killing time, The First Baseman shoving my head under a giant drill press to make me an extra eye, sitting on the riding lawnmowers, arguing about whether or not I need a mitre saw (I do), snorting about the words "tool" and "hose," and then we decided we'd killed as much time as we needed to kill, and headed for the door.

We walked right by our new range hood, still sitting on the floor in front of our new oven, and then I noticed a tall, confused-looking fellow pulling a two-wheeler. I pointed out the range hood, which he scooped up with the unnecessary two-wheeler, and we went our separate ways. Ten minutes later, we met up with him again at the loading dock, where, once he'd loaded a lawnmower, a leaf blower, a water heater, a microwave, and a TV into various vehicles, he lovingly turned over the range hood to The First Baseman.

Update: The range hood is completely bashed in, as if a gorilla wearing steel-toed boots used it for step aerobics.