My Moving Sale

We had a moving sale this past Saturday. Normally, when it’s time to get rid of household stuff, we just donate. Because we were in the process of packing anyway, moving the stuff outside wasn’t much more trouble than donating it, and we had some furniture still in pretty good shape, we decided to go ahead with a sale. We did okay. I’ve lost count now, but we made around $180 after expenses which consisted of a $15 ad in the paper. I’ve not received a bill for that yet; I have my fingers crossed.

Every day for about a week before the sale, I hauled a few things out of the attic. In fact, the last time I was in the attic, I was pleased at how bare it was compared to when I started – less to move in a couple of weeks. By last Friday, our dining room was pretty much full of our old junk. That night, Jennie came over to help us price stuff. She claims to really enjoy pricing items. Maybe she missed her calling with accounting and should’ve gone into retail?

Catch and I sat on the couch and offered helpful advice while Jennifer and Jennie priced. For example, Jennifer included in the sale several pairs of shoes that, admittedly, were in like-new condition. Personally, though, I try to avoid buying used shoes. So, when they decided on the prices for some of them, I politely opined that maybe they were being overly optimistic about the used shoe market in Little Rock. But then, when they priced our dining room table for only $10, I was a little more adamant in voicing my thoughts. I thought that the shoes were a priced too high and the table was too low. My reasoning was that a solid-wood dining room table can’t be purchased for less than $600 new, but that I could run out and buy new shoes for $9.95 (my argument conveniently ignored the fact that Jennifer had likely paid far more than $9.95 for every pair).

The next day, I awoke around 5:30 a.m. I had previously made arrangements with the Birdman to help me haul the big stuff outside. I was supposed to call him around 5:30 to make sure he was up and ready to come over by 6:00. About the time I was getting out of bed, though, I received a text saying that he was already up. So I stumbled to the coffee pot, and then started moving stuff to the yard.

Jennifer got up about 6:00. I first noticed that she was up when, after putting a coffee table in the yard, I turned to find her standing on the edge of our small front porch, staring into the empty street. Concerned, I asked, “Are you okay?” Recognition flowed into her face and she said, “Just not awake yet.” And then she asked, “Did you move all this stuff by yourself?” I mentally looked around to see if there were some moving men that I had not seen, quickly decided that she probably wasn’t in the mood for a smart answer, and told her that I had. She began arranging the stuff on the yard. I went back inside. When I returned, the Birdman was pulling into our driveway.

Here are the highlights from the rest of the day:

6:08 a.m. – The Birdman and I started moving the heavy stuff from inside, and a few items from our backyard shed.

6:09 a.m. – Jennifer, arranging the stuff on our front lawn, humorously observed that, “…this is just a crap sale.” In response, I asked, “Aren’t they all?”

6:20 a.m. – Despite the fact that the newspaper clearly said 7:00 a.m. to noon, our first patron showed up in a large, white, serial killer van. He stepped out of his van with a flashlight in hand for examining the merchandise. I think it’s strange that people show up at garage sales before they are scheduled to begin, but I didn’t care in this instance because he bought most of the furniture resulting in easily the biggest single sale we had all day.

6:55 a.m. – With a large cup of coffee in hand, I sat down on the front porch. I brought my Macbook and caught up on some blogs that I haven’t read for a while.

7:00 a.m. – 9:45 a.m. – People trickled in and out, buying most everything except the shoes and board games (some of which were still in the original plastic).

10:00 a.m. – I went inside and told Jennifer, “We’re slashing prices! Where is the Sharpie?”

11:00 a.m. – A young couple parked their light blue Toyota Corolla on the street in front of the house. The wife got out of the passenger’s side and looked at the few items we had left. She looked closely at two end tables that Jennifer and I purchased several years ago at Ikea. In very broken English, she asked me how much I wanted. In spite of the bright yellow price tags that Jennifer and Jennie had placed on almost every item the night before, it was a surprisingly common question throughout the day. I told her $2 for the pair. I wasn’t sure she understood but she walked to the car and tapped on the driver’s window.

Her husband opened the door, stepped out slowly, and walked to the table nearest the car and to which his wife pointed. He picked it up and, I suppose to investigate for damage, examined it closely, both the top and the underside. I thought, “You can’t expect much for used end tables originally from Ikea.” He put it down, faced his car with his back to me, and spoke to his wife in hushed tones. I believe it was a gesture of respect both for me and his wife. But it could also have been a negotiation tactic. If so, it wasn’t necessary because I was ready to give stuff away at that point.

When they finished talking, they both turned to face one of the tables. His wife pushed down with all her slight weight, testing the table’s strength. She looked at me and asked, “Can you make it lower?” I walked toward the table and thought, “I suppose you could cut the legs off.” As I was about to offer my Captain Obvious thought, she said, “The price, I mean.” A wave of understanding washed over me, and I held up my index finger and said, “Absolutely, one dollar.” We had a deal. After some maneuvering, they managed to get the tables into the trunk of their Corolla and were off.

11:40 a.m. – With almost everything gone, I decided to pack the rest into my car in preparation for dropping it by Saver’s later that afternoon after the Razorback football game.

11:45 a.m. – The Corolla couple showed back up. Apparently, they had eyed the dining room table. The man asked me if the legs were removable. I told him that they were. With tape measure in hand, the woman sized up the table’s surface and then walked to the Corolla. She opened the trunk, took some additional measurements and, with a frown on her face, shook her head.

I asked where they lived and was told that their place is close to ours, only a couple of blocks away. I told the man that I would put the table in Jennifer’s car and take it to their house. He pondered my offer. His wife, who I believe does not suffer fools easily, asked, “Will you take $5?” I shook my head and said, “If I’m driving it to your place, the price is $10. If you want to take it, then $5 is fine.”

In the end, they pulled a quilt out of their trunk, folded it in half, covered the roof of their Corolla, put the table on top, and tied it down with a copious amount of twine. The table’s top literally covered the entire roof of the car, and even jutted forward over the windshield about three inches. I asked the man if he wanted to borrow a wrench to remove the legs. He said that he thought they would offer stability. “Fair enough,” I thought.

As they were getting in the car, the woman asked me if I had painted the table with spray paint. I hadn’t. I had mistakenly painted it with exterior house paint. That’s another story altogether, though. Regardless, I had trouble conveying to her that I had simply painted with paint from a can. Eventually, I used the term oil paint and she understood. I don’t know if she preferred something other than black and wanted to know if it could be painted again, or if she wanted to strip the paint to have a natural wood table. Regardless, she amused me with her no nonsense attitude.

As they drove off, table legs pointing toward heaven, I ran inside to ask Jennifer if she saw the car with the table attached. She had and her only response was laughter. Her laughter was worth the whole endeavor.

Couch Resolution

I realize that the couch stories are becoming a bit self indulgent. That said and following my prior posts which can been read here and here, I think I owe it to Dillard’s to tell the end of the story.

10 days ago, the Dillard’s repair people returned our couch. When they put it back in our living room, it looked great. Jennifer and I had several errands to run that day and didn’t sit on the couch until that evening when we watched a couple of movies we had rented. Sometime while watching the movies, I got up to get some water and, when I returned, I noticed that the couch was still not quite right.

I happened to be sitting on the broken end while we watched the movies and it clearly had supported my weight. But when I looked at it, water glass in hand, I saw that it was visibly sagging. I later measured it and found that it sags nearly two inches as compared to the other end. In addition to the sag, a decorative/supportive metal piece on the front of the couch has visibly separated from the frame. I’m not sure what the repair man did, but Jennifer and I agreed that it isn’t fixed to our satisfaction. I told her that I would try to get it taken care of the following Monday. Given my previous experiences, I dreaded starting a new process.

I was pleasantly surprised. I first called the central repair office. The person that answered my call there was very nice and told me to call the local Dillard’s furniture manager. She told me that his name is Donnie and that he would need to authorize an exchange.

Donnie and I played phone tag for a few days. When I finally did reach him, however, he was very helpful. It turns out that our couch has been discontinued. He told us to come in to Dillard’s and pick out a new one. We couldn’t find a black one in a style that we liked and that we found comfortable. We settled on a chocolate brown one that was on sale for less than we paid for our couch. We were concerned that the brown would not match the black chair we bought as a set with our broken couch. After discussing the situation for a few minutes with Steve, who was helping us pick out a couch while Donnie attended to other matters, we agreed to also buy the matching chair, provided the excess we had paid for our couch would be deducted from the cost of the chair. Steve said he would have to talk to Donnie, but in the end they agreed.

It was a good solution. Our chair isn’t broken, but it did match the broken couch. Dillard’s isn’t out the entire cost of the chair (with furniture mark ups being what they are, my guess is that the amount we’re paying at least covers the cost and they may actually make some money), and we’re happy and would even consider buying additional pieces at Dillard’s. The new couch and chair are supposed to be delivered on Saturday.

The SKU Number Boogie (Couch Update)

If you don’t know about our broken couch and you are interested, you may want to check out this post.

We never found the warranty information, but I was able to remember the brand. One day last week, I visited the company’s website and found that it has a ten year frame warranty. The website said a claim must be made through the retailer from which the furniture was purchased. That made me a little sad because we bought it at Dillard’s. I expected them to be of little help. I was not disappointed.

I called Dillard’s repair center and was told that, in order to schedule an appointment, I needed the SKU number from the receipt. I told the lady that I didn’t have a receipt. She asked if I had purchased it with a Dillard’s credit card. I told her that, in order to take advantage of 12 months interest free financing, I had indeed. She instructed me to call Dillard’s credit. They, she assured me, would be able to provide the SKU number.

I called Dillard’s credit. After continuing to hit zero through numerous menus until I was connected to a representative, I was told that I was not an authorized user on the account. I had forgotten that the account is in Jennifer’s name. The representative told me to, “Please have Mrs. Lynch call back and request the information.” As Jennifer deplores dealing with issues like this, I quickly thought about the online account access that I had used to pay the bill before we paid the balance. I asked the representative if I could get the information I was requesting through the online account access. She told me that of course I could.

After several different attempts at remembering my Dillard’s online username and password, I finally accessed the account. It turned out that the online account information was only a few months old; it didn’t go back nearly far enough to capture the original transaction which is where I expected to find the SKU number. While I was online, however, I did add my name to a very exclusive list of authorized users on Jennifer’s account.

Thinking that I had beaten the system, I again called Dillard’s credit. After again hitting zero through numerous menus until I was connected to a representative, I explained how our couch had broken, that I needed the SKU number so the repair center could schedule an appointment, and asked if she would please help me out. She said, “Yes, you are an authorized user. Let me see…I’m sorry Mr. Lynch but I can’t release that information to you.” I was incredulous. Trying to maintain my composure, I asked, “Why?” She replied that an authorized user is authorized to make charges on the account, but is not permitted to receive information about the account. I didn’t bother to ask why the prior representative had not shared that jewel of knowledge with me; I just hung up.

I called Jennifer and explained to her all the hoops I had jumped through without obtaining a SKU number. She said that she would call Dillard’s credit and get it. A few minutes later, she called me back and reported that, because the transaction is more than two years old, the SKU number is no longer retrievable through Dillard’s credit. Without expecting an answer, I asked her why the original representative had not just told me that so I didn’t spend a good portion of the morning speaking to representatives and trying to remember passwords. She sympathetically pondered the question and added that the representative suggested that we review our records and find the original credit card statement showing the transaction. It was, to me, a novel idea.

When I went home for lunch that day, I climbed into the attic where we keep copies of old bills. After looking for 30 or so minutes, I was able to come up with the suggested statement. Feeling like Moses descending Sinai, I climbed down the ladder into the kitchen and showed my prize to Jennifer. There were some numbers printed on the same line of the statement that denoted the couch. I pointed to them and asked Jennifer if she thought that the numbers were the SKU number. She replied that she supposed they were. I hoped so too.

When I got back to work, I called the Dillard’s repair center again. I explained our broken couch to the woman on the other end of the phone. She immediately asked for the SKU number. Proudly, I read her the numbers from the statement. She said, “I don’t know what that number is but it’s not the SKU number.” I asked, “Can we just go ahead and make an appointment?” “Sir, we don’t make appointments here. I simply call the local repair service and they set up the appointment, and we can’t do that without the SKU number.” I asked, “Can we just go ahead and set up an appointment?” She said, “Sir, we don’t make appointments here and we don’t make them without the SKU number. You can probably find the SKU number under one of the couch cushions.”

At that particular moment, I lost all ability to care about the feelings of others, and, just barely below a shout, said, “Listen to me. I am through looking for the damn SKU number. I have called people and looked for the SKU number all morning. I’ve called Dillard’s credit twice and my wife has called them once. We have done everything asked of us. I even spent my lunch hour in my attic looking through old credit card statements. My couch has a ten year warranty and I shouldn’t be required to provide Dillard’s with the SKU number. It’s something you should have on file. I want you to do whatever it is you have to do to get someone to come look at my couch to see if it can be repaired.”

The repairman called the next day. He was very pleasant. I apologized for not providing the SKU number. He said that it wasn’t an issue. When he arrived at our house, I immediately liked him. We talked about various couches and if our particular brand was prone to frame problems. He told me that he sees frame problems with all kinds of couches – cheap and expensive. Because of that, he was reluctant to recommend any particular brand over another. He did say that this was the first problem he had seen with the particular model couch that we had purchased. He said that it would be an easy repair and that he would even reinforce the other side so we don’t experience a similar problem with it. The bad news is that he will have to have it in his shop to make the repair. They are supposed to pick it up this Saturday and will have it approximately a week. While it’s not done yet, I think we’re on the way.

This Will Not Stand

Our couch broke yesterday. One of the support beams separated from the frame. In our little corner of Little Rock, it interrupted what was otherwise a lazy, relaxing Sunday.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, I used to think it is a nice couch; it wasn’t cheap. It’s only a couple of years old too. I say that not to brag, but to illustrate why I think it shouldn’t have broken. I would understand it breaking if we abused it or we habitually put abnormal amounts of weight on it. We haven’t and we don’t – usually two people and two dogs, sometimes a cat. Even with the cat, the stupid thing is supposedly designed for three people, much more weight than the two people and two dogs. Given, Zoie could stand to go on a diet. But she and Sadie combined still weigh much less than another person. I’m not happy.

I can’t remember what the warranty period is; I’m fearful that it has already expired. Jennifer and I have both looked in various places throughout the house trying to find the information. We have been unsuccessful so far. Even if the warranty period has expired, I’m of the opinion that the couch broke during what should have been its useful life. I’ll give you an update on how that argument goes with the manufacturer – if I can find the information and figure out who the manufacturer is.