Everything you own in the box to the left. . . .

August 28, 2010


Yesterday I spent 10 hours in Meredyth's apartment waiting for Leon's to deliver her furniture: a bed, a dresser, and a desk.

I thought everything was going to be tikkety-boo when the first delivery of her couch and tv stand arrived at 11.15 am.

Two deliveries you ask? Why are two deliveries, from the exact same store, necessary you ask??
This is a very good question.

Because the couch and tv stand were bought in the Clearance Section of Leon's. The bed, dresser, and desk were bought from the Leon's showroom.

And is the Clearance Section in another location? A separate building?

Another very good question. . .you guys are really smart!

No, it is not. In fact you have to go through the showroom to get to the Clearance Section.

Leon's wisdom goes like this:

If you buy something from the Clearance Section, they won't deliver it. They contract Clearance deliveries to Premiere Shipping.

For, of course, a $50.00 fee payable upon the delivery of goods.

If you buy something from the showroom, Leon's, or someone else they contract deliveries to, will deliver your goods, with no extra delivery fee.

This makes as much as sense as a tick that can knit sweaters.

At 2.30, we called Leon's to inquire about the showroom delivery. They responded that the delivery truck had arrived at 10.00 am and we were not there.

That's because the person who called me at 8.15 yesterday morning said they would be there between 11.00-1.00.

So why would I be there at 10.00?

We were then told that they would be delivering the goods later that afternoon, before 5.00.

At 5.00, I called again.

The person at Leon's said she would call the delivery people and have them call me. I gave her my cell phone number.

At 6.30 Meredyth called. No delivery people had called, and when was her furniture going to arrive.

We'll call them again, the Leon's people said.

At 7.30, alone in Mer's apartment, I called Leon's again.

"Oh", said the pleasant voice on the other end of the phone, "your delivery slip is here."

"How come", I said.

"Because they tried to deliver the furniture and no one was there."

"That is not true," I said, "because I have been here since 10.00 this morning, and no one, except the Clearance delivery people, a plumber, and a lost Spanish man have been here."

"They said they called all three of your contact numbers and no one answered."

"Really", I said, my voice getting a little louder, "because I have been sitting here since 10.00 am and the only phone calls I have received are from my kids, my husband, and Canada Post. My phone is working, and I think I would have remembered if delivery people had called."

"Well, what about the other two contact numbers?" and then she read these two numbers.

"The first one is my home phone. And there have been people at my house all day. The second phone is my daughter, who has been SITTING ON THE COUCH BESIDE ME SINCE 10.00 AM SO CLEARLY NO DELIVERY PEOPLE CALLED HER EITHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I was gettting upset. I may have said something about how much money was spent on said furniture and how they managed to function with such incompetence among their delivery staff.

So, no furniture delivery today. I then started the process of negotiating when the furniture would be delivered.

"Given the level of incompetence on your end, I want that furniture on a truck Monday morning and I want it to be the first delivery of the day. My daughter has taken two days off work to move into her apartment. I took today off work to help her move into her apartment, and now you tell me that there won't be a delivery until Monday, when everyone is supposed to be at work."

"Let me get in touch with our warehouse manager and see if a Monday delivery is possible."

"Excuse me. Possible. How about assured. First delivery of the day."

She then took my cell phone number, again, and said she would be in touch with me today about whether or not the furniture would be delivered Monday.

After I hung up, I thought things were sorted out. I was more amicable on the phone, with the Leon's lady than I felt, but I did get my point across, and it seemed that Mer's furniture would be delivered Monday.

And then I had to take the next step: and this one I feared more than anything.

I called Mer.

To decrease the stress in Mer's bachelor apartment, I sent her out with Stephen to go to Sears to pick up bedding. They were also going to the grocery store, because not even Mer could live on icing sugar and bread crumbs alone.

She has been in the apartment all day, with me, and keeping Mer anywhere for a prolonged period of time is akin to caging a pride of lions.

Especially if that prolonged period of confinement is with me.

I calmly explained to her that her delivery wouldn't be happening today. I told her what the woman at Leon's told me.

I could hear the anger building in her voice. I knew where this was going and there was no possible way I could prevent it.

Mer called Leon's.

Again.

And at this point, she was in Sears, at the catalogue counter, picking up the bedding her grandmother had bought for her.

This counter is typically manned by older Pentecostal women.

Meredyth is pacing back and forth in front of the counter spewing explitatives that would make an inmate blush.

The older Pentecostal women were aghast. . .blood drained out of their faces at the sight of this very angry 20 year old girl, pacing in front of them while cussing out Leon's.

Stephen, of course, was mortified, and tried to manage the situation the best he could.

But when Mer gets like that, the only thing to do is step back and wait for the fury to pass.





The furniture saga continues. . . .


This morning, while typing this entry and drinking a much needed cup of coffee, the house phone rings. Its about 10.00 am.

Its the warehouse manager from Leon's.

They don't make Saturday deliveries, but they are willing to make an exception, and they will be at Mer's apartment in one hour.

Yeah, right??????

Sort of.

Mer wasn't home and I didn't have her keys. Her cell phone was dead and I didn't have her keys.

I texted Keith, who is in Moncton for the weekend, looking for the number for his friend's house, because his best friend is currently Mer's "friend" and that is where she was.

Knowing the state my son was probably in this morning, waiting for him to get back to me was not an option. (He eventually did get back to me, but not until 3 hours post-crisis.)

I did what any self-respecting mother would do in this kind of desperate situation.

I drove over to where I knew Mer was.

I had dropped Keith off there numerous times, and I knew the apartment number, but I had never been inside. It isn't a secured building, so there was no problem getting in. Up three flights of stairs and there I was, standing at the door of the apartment. I knocked a couple of times, then knocked louder a couple of more times, and no one came to the door.

I tried the doorknob. It wasn't locked. (this is starting to sound like a mystery novel, isn't it)

So, I walked in.

And it looked exactly the way an apartment shared by two young men in their early 20s would look.

I fought the urge to wash the dishes.

Tentatively, I begin walking through the kitchen, calling Mer's name. The kitchen lead me to a short hallway. On either side of the hallway were the bedrooms. The bedroom on the left had a closed door, the bedroom on the right had an open door. In the bed there was a young man with dark hair.

I am standing there, calling Mer's name, when the young man rolled over.

He was the roommate. We had never met before.

I say, "you must be (name)."

He, half asleep, holds out his hand and says, "And you must be Dawne."

And from the other bedroom emerges Mer, looking more than a little embarrased that her mother had come traipsing through the apartment, calling her name.

I looked at her. There were so many things I could have said, so many things I wanted to say.

Instead, I just said, "Hustle honey buns. Leon's is delivering your furniture today. Now. In the next 15 minutes."

Mer's "friend" wasn't there. He had left to get his mother's car to help Mer move the rest of her things.

As soon as we left, the roommate texted the "friend" and said he had met Keith and Mer's mother and he now believed all the stories were true.



The furniture has arrived.

Mer and the "friend" have taken all the remaining bags of clothes and other assorted things to Mer's apartment. The bedding is there. She has Stephen's tools to get things put together. All that is left is for us to take her to get some groceries, because Stephen wasn't taking her anywhere else last evening while the fury was in full swing.

The Furniture Crisis and Moving of Meredyth are complete.

Now, I'll just sit back and wait for the next crisis to rear its ugly head.

Because experience tells me there will be another one and it will be here soon.


Title Lyric: Irreplaceable by Beyonce