ATTENTION SEARS SHOPPERS

I visited my local Sears store a while ago. It was July 20th. Sears is a department store. They sell clothing and furniture and nearly everything imaginable. I was looking for a lawnmower and some patio furniture for my deck. I found what I wanted. I also found a fabulous dining room table and chairs to replace the ugly old hand-me-down furniture I've been using since I left Donna in 2000. It was oak, perfect, and on sale. In fact, everything was on sale.

"Thank you, sir," I was told after I'd paid for it with a credit card. "It'll be delivered to your home on Wednesday, August 2."

I was happy and excited. I was looking forward to my new things. But in the days that followed, I began to reconsider the patio furniture. It was too large, Ms J, too much furniture. So I drove back to the store to cancel the patio furniture. I was there two hours.

"Not my department, sir."

"Oh, you can't cancel only one item. You'll have to cancel the entire order and then re-order the dining room set and the lawnmower."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you. But wait there. I'll be right back with someone who can."

I waited fifteen minutes for that one to return, but she had vanished, perhaps never to be seen again. Finally, after demanding to speak with a manager, I got things sorted out and I was happily on my way.

Sears called me on August 1st to tell me they were unable to deliver unspecified items in my order and they had taken the liberty of postponing delivery until Saturday, August 5th. So I rearranged my Life (again) to accommodate these changes. Saturday, remember, was Meagan's rodeo. On Friday, they phoned to inform me that my lawnmower had not yet arrived in their warehouse and they would be contacting me later to re-schedule delivery.

This morning, I called Sears.

"Customer service."

By what perverted definition, I wondered.

"Just wondering what's become of my order?" I asked. "This is the first time I've ordered from Sears and it may well be the last."

And I told the woman my story. She looked in her computer and asked, "Did you cancel the umbrella base?"

"The what?"

"The umbrella base. The base for the umbrella for the patio set. Did you cancel that?"

My patience was waning.

"Well, yes. I cancelled the patio set. I don't want that anymore. The base is part of the set. Of course I cancelled the umbrella base."

"Don't get snarky with me, sir. I'm trying to help you."

"I'm not being snarky. I am upset though, that Sears has my money and they haven't provided my merchandise. I want what I've paid for."

"Yeah, but you don't have to yell at me. Don't get angry with me. I haven't done anything."

I breathed, Ms J. Deeply. Smell the roses. Blow out the candle. She was right. She hadn't done anything. Nor did she intend to.

"Can you please just find out when Sears plans to deliver my ---"

"It hasn't come into the warehouse yet, sir. We can't deliver it until we get it from the suppliers."

"To what are you ref ---?"

"So you cancelled the umbrella base, right?"

"Yes. I've cancelled the umbrella base. I've cancelled the patio furniture. All of it. The entire set. But I'm still waiting for my dining room ---"

"Sir?"

"I'm still waiting for my dining room furniture and lawnm ---"

"Sir?"

"What."

"Don't be angry with me. I know you're upset, but you don't have to be angry with me."

I was getting angrier and angrier every time she told me not to be angry. I hadn't even raised my voice. I hadn't cursed. Yes, I was upset, but I wasn't angry with her. Yet.

"I'm not angry with you," I said. "When I'm angry with you, you'll know it. You haven't heard my anger yet. I just think it's not right that Sears can advertise their wares and accept payment for merchandise they don't even have and can't possibly deliver. I'm frustrated and ---"

Click. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

She hung up on me! Can you believe it, Ms J? The "customer service" person hung up the bloody phone!

Well, I walked round in tight circles here until I was calm enough to phone back. Ten minutes later, I was dizzy, but calm.

"I'd like to speak with the highest ranking official in that office, please."

I spoke with a woman by the name of Wendy. Warm, wonderful, Wendy. Wendy listened, really listened to me. She offered regrets and apologies and then confirmed that my dining room suite was indeed available. The lawnmower was back ordered.

"I'll guarantee delivery on Saturday, Mr. Pringle. And I'm sending you a $100. gift voucher. I'll do my best in the meantime, to find you a lawnmower, and hopefully it will be included in the delivery on Saturday. Here's my direct number. You can call me directly if things don't go as I've promised."

I feel hopeful again that I may finally get my furniture. The lawnmower, however, still seems an elusive dream.

Will I shop again at Sears? No. I highly doubt it. But I am glad that I was persistent in my complaint. And who knows? I may yet get my lawnmower, even while the grass is still growing.

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