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 1399: SchutzHappens – February 2012, Spiderman

Wow.  I am still soooo behind.  Two months behind on our family videos and only two posts away from completing 'The Chair'... and I am gearing up for yet another international move.  That's right.  SchutzHappens is about to hit the road again.  Consider that piece of information a teaser for what is to come after the conclusion of 'The Chair'.  Take care!

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNWCHm5qlEo)

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 1378: SchutzHappens, January 2012 - It'll Be A Good Day

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3PqyP6G_yU)

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.