Skip to main content

Furniture Espionage

My parents are in the market for a new kitchen table (moment of silence for the old one).  Their search took them to Furniture Row, and they managed to narrow it down to three choices.  Since they tend to agree on very little, they asked me to come and offer some input.  We went to the first store and were pleasantly surprised to discover the table marked down from the day before.  The second option was quickly dismissed, leaving us with the third option at the place next door -- which turned out to be the exact same table but at a higher price.  Hmmmm, what to do?

The obvious choice was to return to the first store and buy the table at the lower price. However, the second store agreed to do a price match -- with the caveat that we provide proof of the lower price.  How were we supposed to do that without looking like total fluffernuts?  Why not return to the first store and just make the purchase there?  That's when the back and forth began:  we said something, the salesguy went to go pretend to talk to his boss, we waited, the guy came back, and so on.  The only thing that made this little exchange slightly more tolerable was that the chairs were way comfy. 

Finally, sensing he was about to lose a sale, the salesguy offered to go next door and get the dirt himself.  I had to give the guy credit for going above and beyond, although I'm guessing he just wanted an excuse to leave work for a bit (don't we all love a "work" related field trip?).  When he returned he looked unharmed -- no burn marks, no evidence of waterboarding, clothing intact.  Thus, the sale was made and the table should be here in a week.  And all it cost was over an hour of time we'll never get back, a quart of patience, and a little touch of dignity.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Power of Yet

Last week I attended a meeting where the presenter discussed the power of "yet"-- how someone can re-frame his/her thinking so as to have a growth mindset.  For instance, instead of saying "I can't run a marathon," I should tell myself, "I can't run a marathon...yet."  To be fair, I feel there's a fine line between self-confidence and false confidence; no matter how strongly I believe in myself, I'm not sure any amount of positive thinking will turn me into an Olympic gold medalist.  However, my thoughts on the theory were tested just a few short hours later... I discovered that someone was making disparaging jokes at my expense about my weight.  It's no secret that I have a love-hate relationship with my body; anyone who follows me on social media has seen my #runburstinrun journey. And it is indeed a journey -- I feel like I barely remember where I began, and there is no ending in sight.  The source of the jokes claimed no harm was ...

Redman Race Report

This is it -- the official rundown of my triathlon experience!  I know many of you (well, at least my parents) have been anxiously awaiting this post, so here it goes. My Nationals experience actually started a day before I left for OKC when I arrived home to discover my beloved bike had been stolen (chain and all).  This was probably one of the least articulate moments of my life; most of the phone call to my father consisted of four-letter words.  My next flurry of phone calls went out to my lovely friends and coworkers, who made sure that I would have a bike to take to OKC.  I also put out the SOS to the rest of the racers in Oklahoma and was assured that a bike would be waiting for me there. Saturday was a really inspiring day.  I got to watch several races, including an Ironman distance race.  I saw people overcome pain and fatigue to accomplish something truly amazing.  As the sun set over Lake Hefner I had a moment of fear and panic and exci...

Random Musings

1.  Last Friday night I was driving home from my parents' house when I saw two gentlemen on the corner.  One was wearing a jumpsuit and the other was dressed as (I swear) Captain Hook.  They appeared to be brushing up on their creeper skills.  Well played, boys.  Well played. 2.  I've been watching a lot of "Storage Wars" lately.  Who puts glass eyeballs in a storage locker?  Why are plastic chairs worthy of storage?  If someone can afford to purchase and store randomly valuable items, why can't they afford to pay the storage fees?  And why do so many people store money in storage lockers?  Haven't they ever heard of a bank? 3.  My father used the work "Grok" in Words with Friends.  He claims it means "to understand."  Later when I was telling him about my bad day he told me he totally grokked (groked?).  Thanks for the support, Dad. 4. - 6.  I'm sure I've mused about some more stuff here, I'm just to...