Two months ago, I decided to give our family room an overhaul. Our furniture was circa 2001 and aging at dog-speed. When I purchased the old set, I went for the fancy, European look. Tight lines, classy leather and, tiny uncomfortable furniture. I lived in the city and rarely even sat on it. I was always out and about, socializing. The furniture was more of an art piece.
Then, I had a kid, my social life sprinted out the door and my need for affordable comfort surfaced. My back would hurt, if I sat for longer than 30 minutes. The cushions were too flat to lie down. My decision would suit my need. And, I needed a cozy couch and chair to relieve my body of the wear and tear of motherhood.
I remembered watching Joey and Chandler on Friends sink into their Lay-z-boy-looking chairs. I salivated, imagining my butt being glued to a fluffy, seat cushion after a long day with Babyface. I decided to find a local Lay-z-boy store and check out their goods. Who cares if the reviewers online were almost all 60+, right? They had achy butts, backs and hips, just the same. Who better to review comfort, than a near-retiree?
So, the three stooges ventured to the nearest store and were pleasantly surprised to see that the comfortable furniture kind of looked classy. There were leather sets that rivaled my previous furniture with a fraction of the price tag. Win for my butt and win for my pocket.
We spent two days trying to find the perfect fit for all of our needs. Hubs and I both wanted a recliner. Solution: buy a reclining chair and couch. Babyface needed sturdy material. We were looking for “dog grade” leather, as I call it. We have no dog, but Babyface often mimics the activity of a small one, possibly medium-sized. Okay, a great dane.
I wanted an espresso couch and a crimson red chair. After several seatings, (hubs nodding off over and over again, as we played musical chairs), we found a set that was pretty good looking or, more importantly, good looking enough, but with the practicality we needed. We made the purchase and spent 8 weeks in anticipation of our new a$$ reliever.
Finally, I received a phone call from the store to schedule delivery. We frantically cleaned up the spare room for my old chair and cleared out space in the garage for the couch. The couch was still good looking and in working order, so we would try to sell it on Craigslist.
The deliverymen showed up within the window and all appeared to be going off without a hitch. We would pay them some extra cash, under the table, so they could move our old furniture to the spare room and garage. Of course, we failed to realize they have no insurance for this and there was no contract, so they wouldn’t be liable for any damage. Ruh roh.
While moving the couch to the garage, it got stuck in the doorway. They had to remove the legs, but there was damage to the doorframe. Oh well, we thought. There wasn’t any damage that couldn’t be fixed.
Then, after they assembled the couch and chair, I noticed several pen marks on the top of the chair. It looked like someone was walking around with a Sharpie drunk and thought they could add a few polka dots of black to the look. Or, maybe they had a 4-year-old make the thing, because the leather was sagging around the arms.
I made sure the marks were noted on the delivery agreement and the two men left. After that, I stood and stared at the furniture for about 30 minutes, realizing that I had traded classy for decent-looking-but-
I picked Babyface up from preschool, we ate lunch and I decided to give the chair a nice test run for 30 minutes. The comfort was definitely not lacking. In fact, I nodded off several times. I felt like an old grandpa, after a large meal. Works for me, I thought.
My a$$-relief was interrupted by Babyface’s piano lesson. We hustled to the car and I asked Babyface to put her shoes on, while sitting on the old couch. That’s when all of the stress relief that the a$$ reliever gave me had vanished. I noticed an approximately 4×4 inch gash in the leather of the old couch. Goodbye Craiglist, hello Salvation Army.
All afternoon, I had felt guilty that we forgot to tip the deliverymen. I was even going to call the store to see if I could get the delivery company’s phone number. No way, no how. It was such an obvious gash, but the two men never mentioned it. They just ignored it. And, we were too busy moving things around in the family room for the new furniture that we failed to go into the garage with them. Lesson learned.
All I can say is that they better fix the sharpie marks or provide us with a new chair and couch or those lazy, lazy furniture makers will be receiving a nice, long and LOUD complaint from me.