Day 1406: The Chair, Part 50 – The End

Well… here we are.  The end.  I really wish this story ended with a great climax.  Like a car chase or a shootout or something.  But it doesn’t.

We didn’t even have an issue using the London issued gift card two years later in Atlanta!  IKEA’s computer system automatically processed the exchange rate from Pounds to Dollars at the register. At least that is what Serena told me.  I refused to go.  My mother kindly went as my proxy.  Oddly enough, Serena purchased two more chairs on that trip… two swinging chairs that hang from the ceiling… but with my history with chairs I’m too scared to hang them.

I can’t believe it’s been two years since the events surrounding The Chair.  I’ve been from London, to Belgrade, to Islamabad, to Paramaribo.  Grayson is now quite the little man and Gilliam is walking and talking and has finally hit that age fathers crave… he’s down with daddy time… when Serena isn’t around. 

And now… as we’re preparing for yet another international move, the saga of The Chair comes to a close.  A very anti-climactic close.  All that… 50 post… well… 51 post actually.  I accidentally posted two different 44’s.  Instead of renumbering I just made them ‘44a’ and ‘44b’.  So, 51 posts over the last 664 days.  All that and what do I have?

Well.  I’ll tell you what I have.  I have the most expensive and well-traveled used Tesco brand glider chair in the history of the world.  And it looks great in my garage… and it’s a handy bicycle rack.

Please note... this is not a staged picture.  This is where The Chair has been ever since we arrived in Paramaribo 8 months ago.  It never made it inside our house.

Oh well,  I guess it’s the story that really matters. 

Day 1402: The Chair, Part 49 – The Gift Card

Well... as I mentioned in my last post, two hours after leaving out flat we all arrived safe and sound at IKEA.  Yet, it still took us, almost, two MORE hours to process the actual return of The Chair. 

That said, the worst part of our trip was behind us… the box lifting, stroller pushing, child carrying, train hopping, and bus riding portion was over.  Pretty much.  We still had to make it back home and although Serena was planning to do a little shopping with the store credit, she promised not to buy anything that couldn’t fit in the basket under Gilliam’s stroller.  However… as we sat in IKEA’s refunds department… and as the minutes turned into hours… we eventually abandoned the idea of shopping.  We just wanted to go home and forget.

I’m still not exactly sure why it took two hours to process our return… but it did.  Although the first hour and fifteen minutes of our wait were incredibly slow, it was somewhat organized and understandable.  We simply had to wait our turn.  The returns department waiting area was actually quit large… with barely any seating available when we arrived.  And to compliment it’s DMV style ambiance we were given a number and asked to wait until we were called by one of the three ‘returns specialist’ on duty.  We were only about tenth in line, however as I would quickly realize, returns at IKEA weren’t exactly timely.

So… it took a while… but the kids were just as worn out as we were and all Grayson wanted to do was curl up on a chair and watch me play games on my iPod… which was fine by me.  And as I mentioned before, about an hour and fifteen minutes later my number was called. 

Now, I’m not totally naïve… my IKEA expectations were pretty low and I didn’t think my return would go quickly or smoothly.  Sure, I had my receipt, but I was returning two opened boxes.  So, I was prepared for a certain amount of heartburn.  However, they weren’t concerned by the opened boxes in the least… they were concerned with my receipt. 

You see.  IKEA will not process a return unless they can match your receipt to a transaction in their computer.  And, evidently I brought the wrong receipt.  Well… actually it was A correct receipt… but not THE receipt they wanted.  What I brought was my credit card slip/receipt.  Proof of payment to IKEA.  In addition, I had several other pieces of receipt like papers that verified the cost and items I bought.  However, they wanted a specific IKEA generated receipt with a bar code on it.  Of course!  A bar code!  The bar code linking my transaction to their computer system.  My bad. 

Between you me and the brick wall… to this day, I am still baffled by this.  I actually had about three pieces of paper, besides my credit card receipt, proving I purchased The Chair, but not a one had a bar code on it.  The fact that I was able to hold onto all those receipts for so long, without misplacing them, makes me think I was never actually given a store generated ‘bar code’ receipt.  Things like this fall into the ‘all or nothing’ category for me.  

But my credit card receipt would work too, right?  Umm… kind of, sort of, not really.  However, since I had so much documentation, despite not having the bar code, the folks at IKEA didn’t turn me away.

Although my receipt said IKEA on it, was for the exact amount for the chair and cushion, had the date of purchase on it, and even had a transaction number… IKEA couldn’t pull it up in their system.  Apparently, IKEA’s credit card transactions were archived on a completely separate and independent system.  And even though my receipt had a transaction number on it, I was told the number was generated by the bank and not the store, so there was no way to cross reference it.  The one thing my ‘returns specialist’ could do was use the date and time stamp on my receipt and try to match it with transactions for the amount I paid… which she tried and couldn’t actually accomplish.

So… I was asked to step aside, go to a completely different counter where a supervisor, who had access to the credit card system, would attempt to locate my transaction.  By this time… I had already burned about 20 minutes with the ‘returns specialist’ and it took about 15 more before the supervisor came to help me. 

Ultimately the supervisor was able to find my transaction, however it took quite a while.  It was very strange.  Her attempts to search my name and credit card number didn’t work.  However, when she did a search on the date and time stamped on my receipt she found me… name, credit card number, blood type… everything she wanted to know was right there.  However, she still couldn’t finish processing my return.  Instead, she printed out the details, gave them to me, and sent me back to my original ‘returns specialist’… who was busy helping another customer.  And once again I had to wait my turn.  Another 10 minutes later, my ‘returns specialist’ was ready to help me again.  And 10 minutes after that my return was processed and I was given my very own IKEA gift card loaded with our store credit.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, by this time Serena had given up on shopping.  Actually she gave up around the time I was handed off to the supervisor’s desk that didn’t actually have a supervisor sitting behind it.  That is when Grayson ran up to tell me they were going to the cafeteria for Swedish Meatballs… and that is where I found them after the return was complete.  And shortly thereafter, we headed home.  And our journey home was much more pleasant and completely uneventful.

And once we were back home we settled onto the couch for a rousing afternoon and evening of Ski Jumping… which is apparently the only Winter Olympic Sport the British cares about.

I have never set foot in an IKEA store since.

Day 1396: The Chair, Part 48 – The Return Trip

With the Tesco Glider cleaned up and incorporated into our living room we began to focus on more important things… like having a baby. Gilliam was born shortly after acquiring The Chair and life calmed down and smoothed out. At least for a while… because in our excitement surrounding Gilliam’s arrival we forgot about something…

Remember the IKEA Chair? The one Costello and I picked up… the one that actually takes up the bulk of this saga… the one Serena didn’t end up liking… the one she replaced with the Tesco Chair… the one from IKEA that we intended to sell on Gumtree.com instead of lugging back to the store? Yeah… well… we never posted it on Gumtree… so as our departure from London grew near, it was still sitting, disassembled, in our hall closet. And with the horrible deal we actually got on the Tesco Chair, Serena, now, wanted to return the chair for store credit.

… So… yeah… I am sure you can see where this part of the story is going… it was time for me to brave IKEA once again. But I wouldn’t be stepping into the beast on my own… I would be accompanied by a merry band of heroes… although I’m still not sure if that was a good or a bad idea… okay, it was a bad idea… but I didn’t have any other choice.

You see, on my initial trip to IKEA I had Costello at my side. And I will tell you this, there is no way I could have gotten The Chair back to our flat on my own. The Chair’s frame and cushion were packed separately and although neither were particularly heavy, they were rather large and bulky. Lugging both packages on and off two buses and three trains by myself would have been an impossible feat... however, since Costello had already gone home and was not available for IKEA round two, I should have at least attempted the impossible feat before… before… well… before doing what we ended up doing.

Replacing Costello on this new journey to IKEA and making up my, before mentioned, “merry band of heroes” was none other than Serena, my lovely wife who wanted to do some shopping with the store credit, Grayson, who had just turned four years old, and Gilliam… who had just been born… and was riding in the same infant carrier stroller Costello brought with him all the way from the States… the very same stroller I talked about in The Chair, Parts 26 – 32.

Also… this part of the story has inspired the title of my autobiography: “How to Make Simple Tasks 100x More Difficult: The JohnPaul Schutz Story.”

So, if you are keeping count… although our overall man power had increased… so had the potential number of things needing to be carried all the way to IKEA.

Things started out smooth. Serena carried the cushion while pushing Gilliam in his stroller, I carried the frame box, and Grayson walked while holding onto my belt-loop. An operation that worked very well… until we entered the Baker Street Underground Station. At which point Serena realized it was too difficult to maneuver the stroller on and off escalators while also carrying the cushion… the two boxes were in fact too bulky for me to carry on my own… and Grayson was already starting to get tired and asking to be carried. Yeah… and we had only just entered out first of three Underground Stations.

For any of you who have traveled extensively on London public transit you’ll know that not all stations are wheelchair accessible. Which in-turn means they are not infant carrier stroller accessible either. Sure we were able to find the occasional elevator and/or escalator along the way… however in most cases, even in the bigger stations, the elevators and escalators didn’t take you directly to your needed platform… so there were always stairs to face. And on our route to IKEA, there were LOTS of stairs to face. And each time Serena and I would have to figure out the most economical way to traverse the stairs with two large boxes, Gilliam, his stroller, and Grayson.

And I’ll let you in on a secret. There was no economical way up and down all those stairs.

Periodically we ran into very kind hearted Londoners who stopped to offer a hand. Helping us on the stairs and making sure we were headed in the right direction. Other times we were on our own. And on those occasions, I would have to abandon the boxes while I helped Serena carry Gilliam’s stroller over the stairs. On this one trip to IKEA, although I was never very far away or out if view, I received two separate warnings from the police for leaving unattended baggage on train platforms. The first officer asked to see the contents of the box and the second officer actually wanted to confiscate them for incineration. However, that second officer changed his mind and fought off a smirk when I looked at him square in the eye and said, “I wish you would.”

All and all… it was a very trying and exhausting trip. Which is much to be expected when IKEA is one of your destinations.

Oddly enough. Once we exited our final Underground Station the rest of the trip was cake. Sure we were a little worse for wear… nerves pretty much shot… and we still had a bus ride ahead of us, but it wasn’t too bad. Serena got the boys on and situated while I loaded the boxes with minimal yelling from the bus driver. And when we disembarked we walked to the store in the exact same formation as we entered Baker Street Station. We had made it.

Sure… I still wished the officer had set The Chair ablaze two stations ago… but we still made it. Mission accomplished.

And hindsight being what it is… I wish I had thought of taping the frame and cushion boxes together. Sure it would have been even bulkier as a single unit. But I could have used some rope to fashion a makeshift backpack… which would have made the trip so much easier. Oh well. What really mattered is that we made it to IKEA with The Chair. And it only took us two hours to get there. Which was about the same amount of time it took IKEA to process our return/refund…

Day 1390: The Chair, Part 47 – The Discovery

Hi kids.  Only four more parts left in the saga of ‘The Chair’!  It’s almost done!  I hope it is all you wanted and more.

Yeah so, when the Dutchman arrived with the chair he helped me carry it up to our flat, I paid him, and he immediately left.  In the end, my transaction with the Dutchman was very clean and above board… as expected.

However, not long after he left… we quickly discovered the truth about the unscrupulous British couple… and the chair.

Remember when I told you guys how the British couple described the chair as a “like new, never been used, from a smoke-free home, Harrods’ glider chair”… yeah… well… for those of you on pins and needles… I can tell you this: It certainly was a “glider chair”.  Everything else is up for interpretation.

Discovery #1

Our first discovery was probably the grossest… and honestly, when we initially spoke with the British couple, we weren’t really concerned about finding a chair from a ‘smoke free home’… however, within minutes of arrival the smell of stale cigarette smoke began taking over our entire flat.

Listen folks… I was a poor college kid… and a poor post-college kid.  I’ve bought tons of used furniture.  I’ve gotten furniture from non-smoking households and smoking households.  I’ve picked up pieces of furniture off the side of the road and retrieved furniture from dumpsters.  Until I met Serena the only piece of new furniture I owned was my mattress. 

Heck, I’m not even a hardcore anti-smoker… I was a smoker for a while myself!  But I will tell you this: even during my heaviest smoking years, when I was too lazy and ignorant to go outside, not a single piece of my furniture, mattress included, ended up smelling as disgusting as the chair we bought from the British couple.

The smell was not slight… it was not mild.  It literally overtook the entire flat.  Imagine being in an enclosed space with an activated tear gas canister… that is how quickly the smell of stale gross cigarette smoke took over. 

But it couldn’t possibly be smoke, right?  The chair was from a ‘smoke-free’ home, right?  The British guy told me this about a dozen times on the phone.  Could he have been lying to me?

Listen, having been a smoker… this chair had not been exposed to you average, run of the mill, smoking household.  No, someone had extracted the musk of their ninety-year old Aunt Ester, who had been chain smoking since the age of twelve, turned the musk into it a gravy, and used the gravy to marinate the cushions before selling me the chair. 

In short… the British couple were smokers… heavy smokers… very heavy smokers… and fibbers. 

Discovery #2

After the smoke, our second discovery didn’t come as much of a surprise.  The “like new, only sat in the corner and never been used” chair was… clearly used.

The cushions weren’t threadbare or frayed along the seams… and the wood wasn’t scratched up… however we notices that some of the Velcro used to attach the cushions to the frame had become very warn.  Plus… you know… the crumbs we found in the creases of the cushions were pretty much a tell tale sign that someone had use the chair… maybe not for sitting, but at least as a dinner plate.

So yeah… it was totally a used chair.

In addition, Serena noticed something else entirely.  A more subtle nuance.  The cushions were not has plush as the ones Serena had tried out at Harrods.  Although the cushions looked to be in decent (to okay… passable) condition, Serena felt that the interior padding had significantly deteriorated. 

About a week later we went back to Harrods and I tried out their showroom glider and Serena was 100% correct.  The padding on the chair at Harrods was like sitting on a cloud, while the cushions of the one we bought was clearly warn out… so much so that it felt like a completely different chair!  … But… yeah… I’m totally getting ahead of myself.

Discovery #3

You know?  It’s not a bad chair.  It doesn’t squeak when you glide like our first glider did.  Despite the warn padding it’s not uncomfortable to sit in.  After washing the cushions it didn’t even smell anymore.  It’s not a bad chair.  Which is probably why Serena and I had a good laugh two weeks later when we made our final discovery:  The Chair… wait for it… That Chair was not actually from Harrods.  (GASP!)

I actually still laugh about this.  Mainly because of how bold the British couple had been… along with the fact that Serena and I had been extremely gullible.

Anyway, about two weeks after the safe delivery of The Chair, I needed access to an electrical outlet behind one of our end tables.  I needed the access for my laptop and I decided to run an extension cord rather than having to move furniture every time I needed to plug-in.  And while I was running the cord I got down on the ground and ended up with the perfect vantage point to see underneath our “like new, never been used, from a smok[ing]e-free home, Harrods’ glider chair” where I noticed a tag dangling. 

Without a second thought I grabbed it and ripped it off.  And once the tag was in my hand I looked at it more closely.  And it didn’t say ‘Harrods’.  It said ‘Tesco’.

For those of you who aren’t in the know… The best comparison I can make is that Harrods is the British equivalent of Macy’s, while Tesco is pretty much the British version of Walmart… or a really decked out Kroger.

So yeah… when it was all said and done… I hadn’t actually gotten a great deal on a Harrods glider chair… no… in the end, I paid more than full price for a new Tesco glider chair… however mine was used and smelly.

Day 1350: The Chair, Part 46 – The Delivery

So, after the Dutchman picked up my money and set-out on his owe journey to pick-up the chair I settled in to writing my graduate thesis… which was the OTHER thing I was doing while in London; besides working, having a second child, and purchasing a multitude of chairs.

Now, if you are an avid reader of SchutzHappens, you’ll know that I go through manic writing spells where I post almost daily, and it probably won’t surprise you that I’m known for losing track of time when in the ‘writing zone’.  So, after about two hours of writing Serena popped in to see how I was doing and to know if I had heard from the Dutchman.  I was a little taken back that two hours had already passed, but still, I wasn’t worried about the Dutchman.  As I mentioned in my previous post, based on the Dutchman’s hourly and mileage rates, I had estimated spending about $50.00 for his services, and I had estimated around two to two and a half hours for the round trip.  As far as I was concerned, the Dutchman was still on schedule. 

That said, I was a little concerned that he hadn’t called.  I was expecting him to call when he picked up the chair.  Which should have been at the 60 minute mark.  So yeah… I called him… and my worst fears were realized.  Well… not my worst fears, just a minor setback… but a costly one.

By the time I reached the Dutchman he had the chair, but he had only just then gotten back on the road.   Over two hours into the trip and he was only at the halfway mark.  Disaster!

Based on what the Dutchman told me, he got tied up in a bit of traffic, however he was still able to reach the British couple’s house in about an hour and a half.  However, when he arrived the couple was not home… they had gone out to lunch.

Now… this is pretty irritating… mainly because I called the couple as soon as the Dutchman left my flat and the couple new where he was going from and most importantly, they knew he was on his way.  When I was on the phone with them the guy even say, “Great, then we’ll probably see him in about an hour or so.”  But then they just left.  And when the Dutchman arrived, found no one home, and called them, they told him to “sit tight, we’ll be back after lunch”.

Time is money people! 

When something like this happens… you can’t do anything except grin and bear it.  But bearing it is much easier than grinning about it.

In the end, it only took the Dutchman about an hour to get back.  So, at least my estimated hourly fees didn’t double… but it got pretty close.  And luckily, my estimated mileage fees were pretty much on the nose.  All in all, I was out about $70.00.  Which was fine until I discovered the British couple for what they really were… charlatans.  And since then I have resented having to keep the Dutchman on the clock while the crooks enjoyed their lunch.

Day 1347: The Chair, Part 45 – The Transportation

Before agreeing to buy the glider chair off Gumtree.com I make Serena promise me something: that we sell the IKEA chair on Gumtree.  The idea of carrying the IKEA chair all the way back across town was overwhelming.  And I thought we were getting such a great deal on the glider chair that I wasn’t worried about taking a little bit of a loss on the IKEA chair… if we needed too.  To me, it was worth it.

However, once we committed to buying the glider chair posted on Gumtree I was faced with the real possibility of having to venture out on foot, once again, to get the ‘like new, never used, smoke free Harrods’ glider chair.  To say the least, I was not excited… and when I saw how many trains and buses I would have had to take to get there, I became even less excited.  It would have been impossible for me to carry an assembled glider chair and stool, by myself, all the way back changing trains twice and taking two different buses.  I had to put my foot down.  There was just no way.  We still wanted the chair… but there was just no way to do it on my own.

Now, before I continue… you should know that a lot of our decision making from here on had everything to do with the great deal we thought we were getting.  We were buying a $550.00 chair for $150.00.  So, in our heart of hearts we were saving $400.00.  And since we had paid $200.00 for the horrible IKEA wobbler chair, we were willing to spend a bit more money for the far superior glider chair.  And that extra money, as you can imagine, was going to be spent in the form of transportation and/or delivery costs.

It took a while, but when Serena finally agreed that carrying the chair on and off public transportation was not going to work.  We thought about renting a car, however, the prices associated with that option were exorbitant… not to mention the price of gas… and the fact that I had never driven in London before… it was a recipe for disaster.  So, I continued to look for options.

Eventually I found a Dutch guy on Gumtree with a van who would run odd errands for people and based on his hourly and mileage rates I estimated it would cost around $50.00 for him to pick-up the chair.  Which was way less than the rental car.  So, I called the guy up and he was available.  He came right over, picked up the money for the chair and drove off to get it.

And I know you’re probably thinking that I never saw him or the money ever again… but no… that’s not what happened.   The guy was Dutch!  I knew he’d come back… eventually.

Day 1343: The Chair, Part 44b – The ‘Like New’ Gumtree Chair

Ladies in gentlemen, the end is in sight!  I have mapped out the last installments of ‘The Chair’… and I’ve decided 50 is a nice round number… so now you have something to set your watch on.  This is a story that WILL, eventually, END!

So, yeah… the other chair… the Gumtree chair… the ‘like new, never been used, from a smoke-free home Harrods’ glider chair found on Gumtree.com.

Well, despite the personal anguish it gave me when Serena said she no longer wanted the IKEA chair, I couldn’t really argue her logic.  The IKEA chair was garbage and Serena found someone selling a ‘like new, never been used Harrods brand’ glider chair, that normally retails for around 350 pounds (over $550.00) for less than the IKEA chair!  Which was around $200.00.  So, for the sake of the story, let say the Harrods chair was around $150.00, give or take.

In the end I didn’t put up much fight and quickly relented.  I called the couple to see if the chair was still available, which it was, and they were very happy to tell me the entire history of the chair.  They bought it from Harrods about three years prior and since then it had simply sat in the corner of their living room going unused.  “Unused” was a key talking point for the seller.  He kept saying that “this is a really nice chair, and despite being three years old it is essentially brand new.  We’ve never use it… and it’s from Harrods so you’re getting a great deal.  It’s a great chair.” 

His other talking point centered around the fact that he and his wife were non-smokers and that the chair was coming from a smoke-free environment.  He must have mentioned this three or four times throughout our conversion.  Anyway, the guy was very nice and, as I later found out, quite the storyteller.  And after successfully having the wool pulled over my eyes I agreed to buy the chair from them.  

Day 1274: The Chair, Part 44a – The Gumtree

So… the night I assembled the IKEA chair, I went to bed with a sense of accomplishment.  My mission was complete.  I had fought for the chair, carried it through the city on a cold and rainy evening… I had earned a well deserved rest.  And honestly, I was exhausted.  Between Costello’s visit, work, entertaining Grayson, and the chair… I was beat… and the night I assembled the chair I went to bed early.

I just wish Serena had gone to bed as well.

No… Serena stayed up… she surfed the net… and her unspoken dissatisfaction in the chair I slaved away to get, led her to www.gumtree.com, London’s CraigsList equivalent.  And by the time I woke up the next day my sense of accomplishment and a job well done had long passed… upon hearing Serena’s desire to get a different chair, those positive feelings were replaced by dread and frustration… and a headache… I’m pretty sure a headache was involved.

Now, I will admit.  The IKEA rocking chair was a piece of garbage.  The chair itself was too wide and deep to be an effective nursing chair and the rocking blades were almost flat making the chair more like a ‘wobbler’ than a rocker.  So, in all actuality I don’t blame Serena for being dissatisfied in the least.  I totally understood.  The IKEA ‘wobbling’ chair was a massive disappointment for me as well.

However, my body was not ready to embark on another chair misadventure… especially since I had already been on one Gumtree mission prior to Costello’s arrival.

You see, besides a stroller and a nursing chair… we also needed a bassinet.    And by the time Costello arrived I had already been on an across town adventure to purchase a second hand, waist high, all wood bassinet Serena found on Gumtree. 

Now, the trip for the bassinet wasn’t nearly as dramatic as my trip to IKEA, which is probably why I have shared it until now.

I only had to take a couple buses to an area of town I was already, kind of, familiar with and the couple selling us the bassinet only lived about two blocks from the bus stop.  And in fact, the worst part of this expedition was lugging the bassinet those two blocks... not because the bassinet was too heavy, although it would have been easier with two people, but because it was a pretty awkward carry… especially since I had to balance the legs inside the basket in such a way so they didn’t slide through the slats and onto the ground.  I didn’t even mind the bus rides home.  Sure I had to wait thirty minutes for one of them, but it was a very quiet and pleasant evening, so there weren’t too many people to contend with and my final stop was right across the street from our flat.

So… altogether, this trip wasn’t bad at all; which is probably why I agreed to go to IKEA… plus Costello was there to help and having an extra hand made the trip sound more attractive.  Which… I admit… in hindsight, was a total mistake.

Anyway, on the heels of the bassinet and IKEA… I just wasn’t about to lug another piece of furniture through London’s public transportation system.  If Serena wanted a different chair… we were going to need another method of procurement. 

Because this JohnPaul was exhausted… and tired of being ripped off. 

… If only there was room in my life for both… rest and reasonably priced nursery furniture.  However, there wasn’t room for either.

Day 1272: The Chair, Part 43 – The Screwdriver

Well, it is a new year… and I would like to claim that my new year’s resolution is to be more active on SchutzHappens again, I really would.  I’ve certainly slowed down on my posts since leaving Pakistan… and I besides ‘The Chair’ I really do have a lot of stories to share. 

But honestly, I can’t make any promises. 

You see, over the last few years I’ve been working on a novel and I am determined to complete it and self-publish on Kindle this year.   And with this shift in focus… I probably won’t post of SchutzHappens quite a much, but for those of you who are avid readers, you’ve undoubtedly already noticed this.

But then again, there is something to be said about quality over quantity.  So, in its essence and heart, SchutzHappens is exactly what it has always been… but you’ll probably only get a piece once or twice a week rather than almost every day, like I had been doing.

But, in any case, as always, thanks for reading!

The Chair, Part 43 - The Screwdriver

One thing I should probably mention about our epic journey to IKEA is that it was the last day of Costello’s visit… probably not the best way to end his vacation... but we did get to see a lot while he was in town.  I had taken a few days off from work and we tore the city apart.  BTW: the Churchill War Rooms Museum is one of the more interesting places I’ve ever been… not just in London… but worldwide.  If you find yourself in London make sure you got there.  You’ll thank me!

Anyway, Costello flew back to Atlanta without incident and the task of putting the chair together fell to me… and the best helper any dad could ask for: Grayson, the soon to be big brother.

Now, leading up to this, I was no stranger to putting together IKEA furniture.  I’m pretty visual and handy, so putting things together with only pictures never really bothered me.  However, when it comes to IKEA furniture I was accustom to one thing… having it come with everything I needed to build it… not just the hardware, but the tools as well.  And sure, when I opened ‘The Chair’ I did find the hardware and an allen-wrench… but I also noticed that some of the screws had Phillips-heads on them… and after taking a quick glance at the directions I noticed that a screwdriver was needed for assembly… a screwdriver that was not included in the box.

Hmmm… well… being that we were only temporarily in London and I hadn’t really planned on doing anything overly ambitious with my time there, I hadn’t packed any of my tools for the trip.  So… yeah… I was pretty stuck.

“Luckily”… and I’m using quotes because I don’t believe anything is lucky in this story, but  we just happened to be living in a flat over a hardware store… on Baker Street… in a not so cheap part of town.  They, of course, had a screwdriver for sale… and… well… it only cost about £18.00… which was close to $30.00 at the time.  And well… after everything I had already gone through to get ‘The Chair’ in the first place, I really didn’t have a choice.  So… I bought it… begrudgingly.

Grayson was a wonderful assistant, as seen in our family video posted on Day 572.  We quickly assembled the chair and Serena took it for a test drive… and… well… she didn’t like it.  At all.  She didn’t want it… and as the video on Day 572 reveals… she set out to find a new chair.

Day 1251: The Chair, Part 42 – The Cushion

It didn’t take us long to fine aisle 21.  And they even had a display version of the rocker I wanted at the top of the aisle so Costello and I were able to find the box we needed rather quickly.

However… there was a problem.

The whole point of going to IKEA in the first place, despite our blood sweat and tears, was to get the best possible deal. And for those of you familiar with IKEA and their ‘Poang’ series of arm chairs, you’ll know that the chair, itself, is nothing more than a frame and pretty much useless without a cushion… and the cushions are sold separately.

At the time, IKEA had the plain, off-white, ‘Poang’ cushions on sale for £10, (roughly $15.00).  Plus, since the rocking chair frame was also on sale, I was looking to get the whole set for around £75 - £80, (roughly $120.00, which is less than what it costs on IKEA’s website today and way less than the $550.00 a glider chair would cost at Hammond’s Department Store).  So yeah, I thought I was getting a great deal, which was why I ventured out to IKEA in the first place! 

Well… have you ever heard of a bait and switch?  Yeah… well listen to this:

After Costello and I grabbed the box containing the rocking chair frame, we ventured down to the other end of aisle 21 to find the cushions; however, there were not any of the $15.00 plain off-white cushions available, only very expensive printed cushions… all ranging in the £60 - £75 range (roughly $105.00).

In sheer panic and desperation, do to my IKEA delirium and intense cheapness, I continued to look for the cushion I wanted and I noticed two things:

1.  IKEA had about 20 ‘Poang’ chairs scattered around the warehouse on display and every single one of them had an off-white cushion with a sign reading, “Only £10!” 

2.  At the very top of the enormous shelves of aisle 21, I noticed a stack of the off-white cushions I wanted.

So, I ran to get a warehouse clerk who told me, “I’m sorry we are out of those cushions”.

Me:  “What about the cushions on the display?  I’m more than happy to buy one that is already open.”

Clerk:  “No, I am sorry, we can’t sell display models.”

Me:  “Well, what about the ones on top of the shelves?”

Clerk:  “Where.”

I led the warehouse clerk to where I saw the cushions, perched way at the top of the aisle 21 shelving unit… probably a full story up.

The clerk seems surprised.  “It looks like it is your lucky day… I will need to get a crane to get them down.”

“Yes, please, I’ll wait.  Thank you!”

I got very excited as I watched the warehouse clerk go over to talk to the crane operator.  And Costello went to scope out checkout lines… we were going to make a mad dash as soon as we had a cushion in our hot little hands.

Then… all of a sudden the clerk came back, “I’m sorry, those are not cushion.”

Me:  (Shocked)… “Then what are they?”

Clerk:  “Mattresses”.

I was terrible confused.  “Mattresses?  I don’t see any mattresses in this aisle.”

Clerk:  “They are up there”.

Me:  “No, I mean on display… down low for people to buy.”

Clerk:  “That is because mattresses are normally kept on aisle 18.”

Me:  “But you are keeping extras in aisle 21?”

Clerk:  “Yes sir, I am sorry.”

Me:  “Mattresses with cresses in the exact same places as chair cushions?”  (I could see the cresses from the floor).

Clerk:  (letting go of a nervous laugh), “They are special mattresses for babies.”

Me:  “You mean a crib mattress?”

When I threw out the term ‘crib mattress’ the clerk seemed even more uncomfortable… like he had miss judged two random American guys and had been caught in a lie… he quickly said, “I am very busy, I must be going,” and disappeared.

I was stunned.  But I was I was stuck.  In the States, I would probably have thrown in the towel and worried about it later… but I didn’t know London well enough for back-up options.

Costello was getting antsy because we were burning lots of time.

We had already invested over two hours to get this chair… by God I was not about to go home empty handed.  So… I did the math… I could still get the chair frame and the overpriced cushion for around $200.00, which was still a lot less than buying the $550.00 glider chair at Hammonds. 

So we grabbed everything we needed, paid, and darted out into the cold rainy night. 

We made much better time on the way back… and by the time we got back to my apartment, the rain had stopped… but we didn’t have time to breath, let alone eat… we only had thirty minutes to get across town for out Jack the Ripper Walking Tour.

So we darted back out into the night.

Unfortunately… Costello and I were so cold, tired and hungry that we didn’t really enjoy the tour.

Day 1248: The Chair, Part 41 – ‘Lost’ in IKEA

I feel bad.  If I had know that Costello has never been to an IKEA before I wouldn’t have taken him.  I never wanted to be the person who ruins anyone’s world view… but apparently it was meant to be.

We were running late… waiting for the nonexistent IKEA shuttle had set-up us back considerably.  And not only did we need to buy the rocking chair… we also needed to take it all the way back through the Underground to our flat in the city, get dinner, and then trek across town to make our ‘Jack the Ripper Walking Tour’ which was scheduled to start at 7pm.  It was already 4:30pm… and it had taken us almost two hours to get there.  We were on a mission… and we couldn’t be stopped.

As I led Costello through the winding aisle of IKEA, at close to a jogs pace, is when I realized Costello was an IKEA newbie.   At my heels he kept asking, “Where are you going?”  “Shouldn’t we ask someone?”

At first I just ignored him… focused solely on finding the chair I wanted on the showroom floor.

Costello:  “Dude, we need to ask someone!”

Me: (Finally), “You have to trust me; I know what I’m doing.”

Costello became even more confused when I grabbed a pad of paper and a golf pencil off the wall without breaking my stride… and then finally came to a stop at the chair I wanted.

As I wrote down the item number, Costello tried to catch his breath… but then I darted off again.  And this time Costello became increasingly confused.  “Where are you going!?!  You really need to ask someone!”

Me:  (Calling behind me), “I know where I’m going, come on!”

Costello:  “But the chair was back there!”

Me:  “I know, but that was the display model, we need to get to the warehouse!”

Must like my first trip to IKEA, Costello just couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the experience… especially at the pace we were plodding through.  And his confusion and concern heightened every time we turned a corner and found more random displays and bins of stuff:  Office furniture… kids bedding… house wares…

Costello:  “We’re going the wrong way.”

Me:  “No we’re not… you have to trust me.  Come on!”

Honestly, it really felt like we were running for thirty minutes.  And all the while… with every stride, Costello was the voice of descent… not trusting… not understanding… and I just kept going, unwaivered by his calls to ask for help.  And in his disorientation… his only choice was to keep pace and follow.

And then… finally… we rounded a corner and BAM!

We were in the warehouse… Costello stopped for a split second, his jaw opened… and it only took him a second to find his words… “You have to be kidding me…”

Me:  “Come on!  We need aisle 21!!!  Aisle 21!

Day 1220: The Chair, Part 40 – The Curse of Being Thrifty

The lengths Serena and I have gone in order to save a few bucks tend to borderline on the absurd. 

In order to save money on our first house, we opted to do the renovations ourselves… although neither of us had ever tiled anything beyond a six inch mosaic square in an art class.

On our first trip overseas (before joining the service and after having Grayson) we decided a 6 hours layover after an 11+ hour flight was doable… since the layover would also come with a minimal cost savings.

While on our six week Home Leave to Atlanta… we decided not to rent a car.

Hey!  Let’s setup our own wedding!  (The Chair, Part 3)

And when we needed a stroller in London, we ask our friends to bring one with him…

For some reason, when it comes to saving money, Serena and I still behave as if we are poor college kids just trying to scrap by… then again we have two kids and a mortgage payment… so… we might not be in college anymore, although I was in the process of writing my Graduate thesis during the time period of ‘The Chair’, we’re still poor in our own minds.

Although… I prefer the term ‘thrifty’… and someday I hope we learn how to do a cost/benefit analysis… because… well… sometimes the savings isn’t worth it.  Like when we need a new rocking chair, because ours is packed in a storage container in Hagerstown, (The Chair, Part 5). 

About a week before Costello arrived with our new stroller, Serena and I had been on a quest of our own.  To find ‘The Chair’… a rocking or gliding nursing chair… and honestly, they were pretty hard to find… and the ones we did weren’t VERY expensive.  The cheapest we could find was at Hammonds, a prominent department store in London, for about £350.00 (roughly $550.00).

Aghast at the price, I suggested we go to IKEA… a suggestion that has become my great folly in life.  With Costello at my side, fresh off the plane/bus/train, I would never have been able to predict how ridiculous our adventure would become… and most importantly, the ridiculous number of blog entries I would get out of this horrible period in my life.

The trip to IKEA took an EXTREMELY long time:

The Chair, Part 1

                The Chair, Part 4

                                The Chair, Part 6

                                                The Chair, Part 9

And there we were… on a cold rainy January evening, somewhere outside London, staring up at the behemoth… the worst place ever created by man has ever created (Part 7 and Part 8)… and we were about to walk into the heart of the beast.

Dang it… why do I need to be so darn thrifty all the time!?!

Day 1203: The Chair, Part 39 – The Arrival

I think you’re all eating right.

Today I was planning to post our October Family Video, but just before loading it I noticed something didn’t render correctly… so instead… you get another episode of ‘The Chair’.  Lucky you!

So… yeah… Costello spent about seven hours on a full bus with a stroller on his lap… and if this feat of human endurance and commitment weren’t impressive enough on its own, remember, Costello did this right on the heels of some other serious traveling without any sleep.

Now, the timeline has probably seemed a bit farfetched.  To be honest this all happened over a year and a half ago and some of the timing is a bit fuzzy.  So, for this post I went back and found Costello’s old itinerary and things seem to check out.

He started at 3:40pm (EST) the previous day when he flew from Atlanta to Charlotte.  Then, after an hour and a half layover he boarded a second flight leaving at 6:20pm that evening.  His scheduled arrival in London was supposed to be 7:20am (3:20am EST) the following day.  Roughly 12 hours of ‘normal’ scheduled travel time.

But, as we all know… he didn’t make it to London… for quite some time.

So, with the three hours on the tarmac, two wandering around Manchester airport, and seven on the bus… his travel time is up to 24 hours making that about 7pm London time.

To me, this timing sounds about right based on how my day turned out.  You see, as I’ve hinted in previous posts, I had planned to take that day off.  I had originally planned to meet Costello at Victoria Station as he got off the Gatwick Express.  (In previous posts I might have mentioned Heathrow, however, after reexamining his itinerary, Costello was supposed to land at the Gatwick Airport).  And after picking him up, I had planning on just hanging out for the day.  However when his flight was diverted to Manchester to wait out the ‘snow storm’ I decided to go to work until he landed safely in Gatwick and boarded the Express… I figured I would only end up putting in a half day… however… I ended up working the entire day.  A little after 5pm I walked home.

I probably got home around 5:45ish… and during our time in London, we normally ate dinner about an hour or so after I got home.  And that faithful day, Costello called around the tail end of dinner to tell me they were finally pulling into the Gatwick Airport.  He called again about twenty minutes later to tell me he had boarded the Gatwick Express.  And that is when I left to meet him at Victoria Station. 

About 30 or 45 minutes later, Costello arrived in Victoria Station.

Now… as you can imagine, after a journey like this we probably shared a very Hollywood-style reunion.  The two of us running through a crowded British train station trying to seek each other out while violin music soared to a crescendo… calling each other’s names loudly and rushing together for a well earned man-hug.   

Well… this is probably how the story will end when Brian Grazer finds my blog and hires Ben Stiller to play Costello. 

But, no… that’s not what really happened.  Sure the train station was crowded… and British.  And I we did have trouble finding each other… but when we finally connected there was no man-hug.  No, Costello simply shoved a large plastic bundle into my arms and said, “Here’s you f---ing stroller.”

Day 1195: The Chair, Part 38 – The Unbearable Awesomeness of Costello

Yes Becky… Costello is awesome.  And to be completely honest, this chapter of ‘The Chair’ was going to be called ‘The Bottle of Booze’, but your comment inspired me… yes… if nothing else, ‘The Chair’ should be a testament to Costello’s commitment and loyalty.  However, Costello is also the guy who made me watch ‘The Room’ during my home leave… which was probably the worst movie I’ve ever seen in my life… and he made me watch it on purpose… so… for that… I hate him.  BUT, for the stroller and what he went through to deliver it?  For that, we honor him today.

So yes!  Costello boarded the bus from Manchester to London with no place to store the stroller.  So, he opted to ride holding the stroller on his lap.  Little did he know how long the, normally three and a half hour, trip would take.

The first issue they faced was weather.  Although it wasn’t snowing, it was raining A LOT and the bus drivers were compensating due to lack of visibility and the fear of black ice.  Costello called me about an hour into the trip and he estimated they were probably going a little faster than half the normal speed limit.  And based on his calculations we estimated the three and a half hour trip would take about five hours.  For most people this would be death… but Costello is pretty easy going and pretty much said he was enjoying his ‘tour of the British countryside’… and then he said something about the ‘damn stroller’ on his lap… but I had already tuned him out.

Anyway… it looked like the bus ride was going to take longer than normally expected… which is understandable when traveling by bus… however, an hour later Costello called me again… and well… apparently we overlooked something; our five hour estimate was going to be on the low side.

You see… two hours into the bus ride everyone was a bit tired, however they were in good spirits.  Like Costello, they had accepted the fact the trip would probably take five hours… but then… then the bus drivers pulled over and informed the passengers they would be taking their mandated one-hour break.

Yeah… so… you see… apparently, bus drivers in England have to take an hour break after ever two hours of driving.  At least that is what THESE bus drivers claimed… I haven’t been able to verify this as an official policy though.  Costello and I figure these guys were being paid by the hour and were milking it. 

Anyway… you do the math.  We estimated the trip at five hours… so there were going to be at least two hours worth of breaks scattered into the timetable. 

As you can imagine, the passengers didn’t take the news very well.  Even Costello sounded pretty melancholy when we talked during the first rest stop.  However… when he called me from their second ‘mandatory’ pit-stop his spirits seemed up… mainly due to the consumption of ‘spirits’.

Apparently when the road weary travelers re-boarded the bus after the first stop… a few of them broke open their duty free bags.  And well… let’s just say bottles started getting passed around and the somber mood of the bus became more social.  Folks began swapping stories and singing songs… and once they had imbibed enough… like yourself… the passengers on the bus clambered to hear one story in particular.  They wanted to know why the hell Costello had a stroller on his lap… and with one more swig of Jack straight from the bottle… Costello told them… and it was awesome.

Day 1192: The Chair, Part 37 – The Stroller, Part ‘Who Cares’

Now, there is an element of Costello’s story that I’ve been ignoring.  And in case you have forgotten, it is now time for a reminder: throughout his entire trip, Costello has been carting around our new stroller.

http://www.amazon.com/Graco-SnugRider-Infant-Stroller-Frame/dp/B0007KMUH4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319471839&sr=8-1

He was bringing it to us in London because the box was too large to ship through our diplomatic mail service, and in addition, Costello had done a fancy two-step in Atlanta to get the stroller on the plane for free, without actually traveling with a child justifying the need for the stroller.  This is a very important distinction because I was once charged for checking a car seat when I wasn’t traveling with Grayson.

So… imagine if you will… a man in his early thirties… carrying a knapsack… looking like your average American backpacker… getting off an airplane and wandering around the Manchester airport for a couple hours pushing an empty stroller.

Well… let’s just say… it rose more than a couple eyebrows.  Nothing major… nothing particularly blog worthy… however he was asked where his child was so many times by airport security that he decided fold up the stroller and carry over his shoulder rather than have to explain how he’s the world greatest friend one more time.

Anyway, once the British Transportation Authority gave their ‘all clear’ for the passengers of Costello’s flight to clear customers and take possession of their checked baggage… it caused… well… it caused a few more issues.  Most importantly… it caused a significant space issue on the busses. 

You see, prior to the release of their checked baggage, when American Airline thought they would be forced to transport everything to London before folks would be allowed to clear customs, they hired a separate box truck to take the luggage.  A truck they no longer needed once the passengers got their hot little hands on their luggage!

So, American Airlines canceled the box truck and instructed the passengers to take their luggage on the busses.

Well… this is all fine and dandy… except they had only hired two busses with just enough seats for all the passengers.  And if you are familiar with bus travel you will know that busses have far less cargo space than airplanes AND considerably less overhead and under-seat space as well.

So… rather than describing in great detail how they quickly ran out of space for luggage… let me just throw out the word ‘sardines’ and move on. 

Honestly, the only reason they were able to get all of their luggage on the busses at all is because a handful of the passengers, who were actually headed to Manchester anyway, changed their rental car pick-up location and departed immediately after clearing customs. 

However… gaining those few seats weren’t enough to save Costello from his fate… to ride in a bus from Manchester to London with a stroller on his lap.

But then again… it’s only a three and a half hour drive, right?

You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?

Day 1187: The Chair, Part 36 – The Checked Baggage

I’m glad it took me a couple days to pen this next segment of Costello’s journey to London, mainly because of Pauline’s comment on my last post:  “I just love the real world implementation of what seem originally like reasonable rules and regulations.”

Yes… well… it didn’t just stop with passport control… those seemingly ‘reasonable rules and regulations’ continued being tested by the practicalities of implementation.

This time, it was Costello’s checked baggage.

You see folks; Costello wasn’t simple ushered off the plane, through passport control and onto a bus destined for London… no… the ushering stopped after passport control… at which time the WAITING started once again.  Costello waited in the Manchester airport for almost two MORE hours, all the while he and his fellow passengers were told that they were waiting for the busses to arrive.  Well… that was only part of the story. 

You see… checked baggage is a funny thing.  Especially when it comes to who is liable for the baggage.  Despite what we’ve seen with United and their treatment of guitars, in theory, when you check your bags with an airline, they take over the chain of custody of your bags, thus becoming liable for them. 

Apparently, American Airline didn’t want to be liable for Costello’s bags while they were being transported from Manchester to London.  And frankly, I don’t blame them. 

American Airlines felt it was unreasonable for them to maintain control of the bags since they would be forced to hand them over to a third party mover in order to adhere to a British Transportation Authority policy.  In short, for almost two hours American Airlines was insisting the British Transportation Authority either take custody of the passengers checked bags during transport to London, OR, let their passenger’s clear customs in Manchester. 

In the end… after milling about for quite some time, Costello and his fellow passengers were called to baggage claim and were allowed to clear customs… and then… and only then… were they allowed to board the busses… busses that had been parked outside for over an hour and a half.