My daughter and her fiancé bid on a house, and soon, she will be taking her mattress. So a replacement is in order. It was President's Day weekend, and several places were having mattress sales, including Mattress Firm. We found a decent queen mattress at for $400 at the Mattress Firm in North Richland Hills. Since it was for the guest bedroom, it was comfortable enough.
They didn't have it in stock, so I made arrangements to pick it up. I went Monday morning. The same salesman helped me, and told me to pull around back and he would load it up for me. After pulling around the back, I saw he was having trouble locating the mattress. It's a decent-sized store certainly, but it's not like it's the size of a Wal-Mart. How can it be that difficult to find a queen-sized mattress in a mattress store?
Because it's not there, that's why.
He looked it up, and found it had come in. He walked around again, looking for it.
"Someone must have bought it," he said.
Seriously?
Most of the times we've been searching for mattresses, there are a few with "SOLD" signs on them. That indicates to me (and others, I assume), that someone has already paid for that particular mattress, and, as a result, it is no longer for sale.
I understand mistakes happen, and if they were busy, they may have forgotten to put a sold sign on it.
Okay.
So he informs me that they will deliver for free.
Excellent.
"We can deliver it tonight between 6 and 9," he says.
We were going out for dinner for my birthday that evening, so he arranges for it to be delivered the next morning between 9 and 12.
So I get to sit on the couch on my birthday, waiting for a delivery. Not that I had much planned for today. I had done my chores the day before so I could just relax on my birthday.
Am I relaxing? Not much. Granted, there isn't a lot of physical activity going on. But for some reason, I get stressed when I spend $400, and have nothing to show for it. And, while they have my cell phone, I have had no phone call to let me know why they are late, when they are coming, or if they are coming at all.
So I called them.
"What? They haven't been there yet? Let me call you back as soon as I find out what is going on."
So twenty minutes later, he calls back, telling me something happened, and that he should be there within the hour. Great.
Two hours later, I call back.
"What? They haven't been there yet? Let me call you back as soon as I find out what is going on."
Deja vu....
Again, I understand issues, and the fact that sometimes, things happen. But surely I'm not the only one who has them happen. It seems like it happens a lot, and if this kind of thing happened to more people, stores would not be able to stay in business. So maybe it IS just me.
After a while, he calls back, telling me he has no idea what happened, how sorry he is, and that he will do whatever he can do to make it up to me. He'll even through in a free mattress pad.
Wow. My time is worth a mattress pad?
After three calls to corporate headquarters, complaining about what happened, they cancelled the sale (after also offering me a free frame or mattress pad).
$400 is a LOT of money to me. I would like to think it's worth something to a company to keep its customers happy.
Then I have to remember one of my first posts about customer service, and how it's virtually non-existent now.
I guess I would never make it in business. Maybe it's just not possible to provide good customer service, and still make money.
What a shame.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
My First 5k
When people ask me what I did Saturday morning, it seems natural to say I ran a 5k.
It's not entirely untrue, but to say I ran 5k doesn't indicate what actually happened.
"I jogged/walked/crawled/laid face down/curled up in a fetal position in the street crying like a little baby in the Hot Chocolate 5k in Dallas."
Yeah, that takes too long, and garners strange looks.
It was the second 5k I had signed up for, but the first I actually competed in.
There I go again. Did I really compete?
I guess that depends on your definition of competition. I guess I competed against myself. I really only had two goals for the race:
1. To NOT finish last
2. To at least be upright when I crossed the finish line
I didn't finish last. Granted, I had to push over the little old lady with the walker to finish ahead of her, but I wasn't last.
And I was upright when I crossed the finish line. I was dizzy and hallucinating, but I was upright.
I got out of bed in North Richland Hills in time to be in Fair Park for the 7:30 AM start. It is February, but most of the week, it had been 70 degrees. Saturday morning, it was 29 degrees, with a wind chill of 11 to 15 degrees. Who decides to have a race that early on a Saturday morning, anyway? Those early hours are for runners who are competing in marathons. Everyone knows they're just crazy anyway.
So we approached the starting point with a few thousand other people, and began the "race". I wasn't alone. My wife was with me, and our daughter and her friend met us there. As soon as the race started, our daughter and her friend left us behind. Three blocks in, my wife left me behind. I'm not really sure why. It seemed perfectly natural to be crying. I had already been jogging for close to a minute. Apparently no one else wanted to talk to the crying 45-year old, either. That's okay. Even if I had been able to talk, it wouldn't have been much of a conversation.
Them: "Morning, how you doing?"
Me: "Ahwhoog. Umgblug..."
I had read several forum postings about how to prep for a race. What to eat the days leading up, how much water to drink, what to eat or not eat on the morning of the race, etc. I thought I knew what to expect. I had even looked up this route online. But as I rounded a corner, my heart stopped. Less than a quarter of a mile ahead was something no one had warned me about.
There, ahead of me, were hundreds of people running the up-side of a bridge. Seriously? Who planned this route? There are hundreds of roads in Dallas...surely there could have been a route planned that didn't involve hills. I'll be 46-years old in two weeks. I should have been sleeping in, and enjoying a nice morning of bacon and pancakes. I should have been watching television in bed in my robe. But there I was, "running" early in the morning on a Saturday, in frigid temperatures, and there are hills? What was I thinking?
I jogged some, and even ran a little. I walked most of it. 42 minutes and 25 seconds after starting, I was crossing the finish line.
Not impressive by any means to anyone. But as I crossed the finish line, I only had enough oxygen to muster one thought:
"I actually did it."
It's not entirely untrue, but to say I ran 5k doesn't indicate what actually happened.
"I jogged/walked/crawled/laid face down/curled up in a fetal position in the street crying like a little baby in the Hot Chocolate 5k in Dallas."
Yeah, that takes too long, and garners strange looks.
It was the second 5k I had signed up for, but the first I actually competed in.
There I go again. Did I really compete?
I guess that depends on your definition of competition. I guess I competed against myself. I really only had two goals for the race:
1. To NOT finish last
2. To at least be upright when I crossed the finish line
I didn't finish last. Granted, I had to push over the little old lady with the walker to finish ahead of her, but I wasn't last.
And I was upright when I crossed the finish line. I was dizzy and hallucinating, but I was upright.
I got out of bed in North Richland Hills in time to be in Fair Park for the 7:30 AM start. It is February, but most of the week, it had been 70 degrees. Saturday morning, it was 29 degrees, with a wind chill of 11 to 15 degrees. Who decides to have a race that early on a Saturday morning, anyway? Those early hours are for runners who are competing in marathons. Everyone knows they're just crazy anyway.
So we approached the starting point with a few thousand other people, and began the "race". I wasn't alone. My wife was with me, and our daughter and her friend met us there. As soon as the race started, our daughter and her friend left us behind. Three blocks in, my wife left me behind. I'm not really sure why. It seemed perfectly natural to be crying. I had already been jogging for close to a minute. Apparently no one else wanted to talk to the crying 45-year old, either. That's okay. Even if I had been able to talk, it wouldn't have been much of a conversation.
Them: "Morning, how you doing?"
Me: "Ahwhoog. Umgblug..."
I had read several forum postings about how to prep for a race. What to eat the days leading up, how much water to drink, what to eat or not eat on the morning of the race, etc. I thought I knew what to expect. I had even looked up this route online. But as I rounded a corner, my heart stopped. Less than a quarter of a mile ahead was something no one had warned me about.
There, ahead of me, were hundreds of people running the up-side of a bridge. Seriously? Who planned this route? There are hundreds of roads in Dallas...surely there could have been a route planned that didn't involve hills. I'll be 46-years old in two weeks. I should have been sleeping in, and enjoying a nice morning of bacon and pancakes. I should have been watching television in bed in my robe. But there I was, "running" early in the morning on a Saturday, in frigid temperatures, and there are hills? What was I thinking?
I jogged some, and even ran a little. I walked most of it. 42 minutes and 25 seconds after starting, I was crossing the finish line.
Not impressive by any means to anyone. But as I crossed the finish line, I only had enough oxygen to muster one thought:
"I actually did it."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
