Yesterday was a bad day, with work frustrations and spousal frustrations and health frustrations. I’d been crying on and off for no reason since the weekend anyway. (I say “for no reason” but of course I watched the pivotal first episode of a certain show that rebooted on HBO Max.)
Late in the afternoon I was again speaking to Gary enough to list my dozen complaints for the day, and he was speaking to me enough to say, “Well, this will be a bright spot in your day: your chair’s here.”
It was a bright spot. Until I began putting the chair together.
Step one, read the instructions. “If a part is missing please check if it was left in the corner firstly” … and I would put a period at the end there but there was no period, in fact there were very few periods, but they made up for it by adding superfluous punction in “it’s” and other locations.
So, instructions that didn’t inspire confidence. That was step one.
Step two, attach the casters to the base. I put the roll-y casters in, I pulled them right out. They did not snap in. This annoyed me, and it also got me close to the base, which I saw was scratched.
That’s a scratched brass leg. I know it looks all Georgia O’Keefe-y.
“Damn Wayfair human-traffickers,” I thought, “I’m going to have to call them.”
Step three, call the customer service line, where a very nice lady helped me conclude that I needed a refund, but that I didn’t need to return the chair. This surprised me. “Well, wouldn’t I just go to the hardware store and see if I can’t fix it myself?” Evidently I could.
Step four, tell your husband that the child-slavers at Wayfair have sent you a defective chair with bad casters.
Step five, watch your husband as he looks at you steadily and picks up a caster and JAMS it into the slot until it clicks.
Step six, wail, “Damnit, now I have to call them back and tell him to undo the refund.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Or do I?” I asked, because I am a bad person.
“Yes, you do, because you are a good person.”
As it turned out, the baby-eaters at Wayfair just told me, “Don’t worry about it, it’s all right,” which either means they never submitted the refund or that I have a free chair.
(If they are giving out free chairs as a business model that does support the human-trafficking theory, though, because they would need a revenue stream.)
6 responses to “New Chair Redux”
The brass leg was still scratched – that may have been enough for the refund, without the casters. Or it may simply be a gigantic pain in the neck to un-refund things. Or maybe they want to reward people who call in for an un-refunding, because that is a good thing to do when you find out you were wrong! 🙂
KC – well, I’m already discontent with the casters – they need to be ball casters, not wheel casters. That’s what I’m doing with a quarter of the refund.
It’s good for the chair to move correctly (and good heavens, casters shouldn’t cost a quarter as much as the chair! But I suppose such is the way of replacement parts…). Is the chair decently comfortable to sit in?
KC – very comfy but dang – the new casters are 1/4 inch off, so the old ones are back on. That’s okay. I’ll just stand up before I move it.
Sorry about the new casters. Can you return them and get differently-sized replacements?
KC – I think I’ll just keep the whole issue in the back of my head for now.