Yesterday we had a new widescreen TV delivered that we purchased from Costco online for a great price. Yay!
During the timeframe earmarked for delivery, I noticed a vehicle that looked like a cross between a station wagon and a small van parked in front of our house with “Airport Shuttle -- Express Door to Door” on the window. I figured the driver was lost or something and was getting his bearings.
The doorbell rang and when I open the door the guy (he looked about 45 to 50) smiles and I was hit with a powerful whiff of what smelled like women’s cheap perfume. I knew without doubt the man was straight because no self-respecting gay man would ever wear that scent.
Assuming he was about to ask directions, he surprised me by saying (in a foreign accent), “I have your TV.”
“Oh,” I said, smiling. “Great!” At the same time, I was struck by a feeling of pity for the other delivery guy stuck in the small vehicle with him because the man honestly reeked.
And here’s the rest of our conversation:
Him: Can you help me carry it?
Me: *blink* What?
Him: I need you to help me carry it up the stairs. (ed: there are 2 flights to the front door of our house)
Me (looking for a hidden camera): You’re kidding, right?
Him: No. I am alone and I can’t get it up here by myself. Someone here must help me. You will help, yes?
Me: Seriously? (ed: I clearly don’t look like a limber 20-something woman. I’ve got an adult daughter and anyone can see that I’m past...um...38)
He nodded, giving me a blank stare.
Me: No, I can’t help you carry a TV up two flights of stairs, I have arthritis in my spine. (ed: actually, I have ankylosing spondylitis, but that would take way too long to explain--and then I thought...why the hell should I even feel the need to make an excuse to a goddamn delivery man about why I can’t help carry a heavy TV up the stairs?)
Him: Oh...what will we do?
Me: What do you mean, what will we do? You’re the delivery man, aren’t you?
Again he nodded, giving the same blank stare. The gears in my tiny brain started turning...
Me: You can bring it in through the patio door, okay?
Him: I will try.
Me: Well great, that’s just peachy...meet me there (I told him where).
Looking terrified that he might drop it, which made me terrified, the guy wheeled the boxed TV, positioned vertically on a dolly, to the patio door, which I had wide open for him. He couldn’t figure out how to get it inside. The box wavered back and forth as he made one attempt after another and I was afraid it was going to fall. I held out my hands to catch it, almost dissolving into laughter, thinking how totally surreal this all was.
Finally, he managed to get the box inside, looking very proud of himself. He asked where I wanted it and I showed him an area about two feet away. He looked chagrined.
Me: The box has openings on either side to use for handles.
Him: I will try that.
His arms weren’t long enough so it got dicey there for a while. He finally managed to get it off the dolly and onto the floor where it wavered after he set it down. I helped him drag it to a more stable position.
After debating about making a fuss and not signing for delivery, I decided to keep my mouth shut and sign for the damn thing, contacting Costco directly to make a complaint later.
They somehow knew I was calling because the customer service line was busy the rest of the day. I have yet to talk to them.
I like Costco and have been pleased with their merchandise and service in the past. This is the first time we’ve ever had anything other than a small item (that shipped via UPS) delivered. They need to know who they’re contracting with for deliveries. This was almost too unbelievable to be real. But it happened, just exactly as I posted here, without a bit of embellishment.
The good news?
One: We have our new TV. Yay!
Two: People always ask me where I get all my ideas for writing comedy. This is a perfect example of why I tell them that I need look no further than my own everyday existence. :D