Sinking to New Lowes

People often comment on my inate ability to point out the stupidity of mankind. I think I'm given too much credit, because sometimes, the stupidity is right there to smack you in the face.

I went to Lowes yesterday with my buddy Ned to pick up some lumber. My mom rents out my old old old house in Upland, and the back porch currently has the capacity to MAYBE withstand the weight of a soda can. Ned is doing us a big favor by fixing the porch, so off we went to get the wood.

Keep your mind out of the gutter.

I don't have the first earthly clue about anything involving home repair, so Ned got the exact quantity of lumber needed to fix the porch. We went up to the front desk to schedule the delivery, and were greeted with the following conversation:

"You ring them up."
"No, you ring them up."
"I'm going on my break."
"Like hell you are, you've been here three hours. Ring them up."

Gee, don't fight over us, guys.

This went on for another minute-and-a-half between Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass. Tweedle Dumbass "got stuck" processing the delivery. Now, keep in mind, Ned could not have possibly made any easier for him, as he even wrote down the SKUs for the guy. So it looks like it's going to be a smooth transaction, right?

C'mon guys, you know me by now...my life doesn't work that way.

Because apparently, a multi-billion dollar company like Lowes doesn't have access to Mapquest, as I had to handwrite the directions to the house. Keep in mind that I have not lived in this house since I was about 10, so remembering exactly how to get there from Delaware took a little bit of thinking on my part. But (I think), I gave him the right directions. He then proceeded to input the directions in the computer. Ned was going to do a little more shopping, so he asked me to let him know when the delivery date was. I told him I was going to set it up for Thursday or Friday...and Tweedle Dumbass saw the whole conversation. Keep ALL of this in mind.

Before I even get the chance to say half a syllable, T.D. (as he is now affectionately called) tells me, "I'm going on my break, so you can go to the next cashier to pay." And just like that, T.D. disappeared.

So I go to the cashier, and ask her a simple question, "When is the delivery date?" She stared at me for about 10 seconds and uttered the most intelligent response she could put together, "Huh?" So I spoke reallll slowwww so she could understannnnnd. Once she comprehended that yes, I was speaking English, she said, "When do you want to pick it up?"

Now last I checked, deliveries usually allow the customer to wait at home for the materials, avoiding the whole "picking up thing." So I clarified for her that I asked for delivery. She clarified for me that it said "pickup" in the system. Clearly, we're at an impasse. She then tried to tell me that I must have scheduled a pickup.

Yes, because I always make sure to give directions to my house when I pick something up...just for collateral.

So Tweedle Dee reenters the picture. (the guy who didn't want to help me to begin with) He tells me I have to call back tomorrow to set up a delivery time. I asked if I could just set up a delivery time now. He replied increduously, "No," as if I asked him if I could sacrifice his first-born son. Just the thought that any of these people could reproduce to begin with makes me fearful for the fate of Mother Earth.

I did as they asked, and I called back today. I explained the situation to three different people before I got directed to the "proper channels", whatever the hell that means. His first response was, "Ah yes, I heard about your situation." Great, I'm famous. He then tells me that he could reschedule the delivery, which would imply that the delivery was actually scheduled to begin with. He proceeds to tell me, "I could schedule it for Friday or Saturday, though Saturday is more convenient for us." When I asked why, he said...and I quote..."Because if we don't leave that area by 2:00 in the afternoon on Friday, we're going to hit bad traffic on I-95."

Friday it is.

Until next time...
Dan

Update: Lowes just left a message on my voicemail, "Mr. Tabb (that's how they said it), we need directions to the house."

AHHHHHHHHHHH!