After five months of hassles, seven faxes, hours spent on hold, four house visits from an incompetent repairman and all of the headaches that came with it, Jerry and I finally have a new TV.
We were beyond patient. Then an unsuspecting woman working the answering service who happened to get Jerry’s final-straw phone call informed him some of the holdups had been because the repairman they outsourced our problem to simply forgot to order parts. For more than a month. On two occasions.
Armed with that, he started making demands. There would be no more attempts to fix our warped screen. There would be no more waiting around for someone who doesn’t show up when he says he will. There would be no more “next week,” “in a few days” or “please hold.”
Just now. Fix the situation now. Send us a check. NOW.
Amazingly, they did. It was a huge victory in our household. Jerry celebrated with a trip to his favorite electronics wonderland and purchased Consumer Reports’ No. 1-rated 46-inch Samsung flatscreen. I call him Sammy.
Phillips, our defunct plasma, is still resting in peace in our dining room with a sheet over him. You know, out of respect.
Ironically, the repairman, who couldn’t be bothered to return our phone calls when we were desperate for his help, has called us numerous times to find out what the warranty company decided. I’m guessing they’ll withhold his payment because he wasn’t able to fix it.
Normally, I would feel bad for someone who put in hours of work to no avail. But the man was flighty and very difficult to work with. He even offered to “take our old TV off our hands for us,” which has much less to do with being thoughtful and more about harvesting it for parts.
Jerry and I both agreed we’d rather take it in our backyard and go Office Space on it than hand Phillips over to that bastard.
In the meantime, we’re readjusting our eyes to take in the mammoth screen that is Sammy. The first thing we watched was Allison’s daily fix of “Yo Gabba Gabba” -- a kids show that is without a doubt produced by people who did a lot of drugs in college.
Trying to gauge Allison’s reaction to the new TV was difficult because she always screams like a 12-year-old in the front row of a Miley Cyrus concert when the intro comes on. But she must have noticed that her beloved characters more than doubled in size overnight.
We had scheduled Sammy to be delivered today, but Jerry couldn’t wait. It had been five months and apparently waiting another day was unnecessary torture, so he enlisted the help of our truck-owning neighbor, Dave. Turns out, it doesn’t take much to entice anyone of the male gender to an electronics store.
When they left to pick it up I said, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if they deliver another one?”
But I didn't actually think they would.
Much to my surprise, the delivery truck pulled up in front of our house this morning. Thankfully, I was upstairs with Allison elbow-deep in a dirty diaper. Because a little part of me would’ve wanted to say, “Right this way, please,” while leading them to our bedroom.
It would’ve been easy to justify it. We probably built up loads of good TV karma being as patient as we had been. We deserved it, right? Then, we could donate our small flatscreen to someone who needed it. We’d pay it forward. Honest.
But, in the end, I wouldn’t have been able to. I would’ve done the right thing and turned away the amazing free TV the delivery guys were attempting to set up in my house. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do.
Besides, if my shock at their appearance didn’t immediately give it away, the fact that they would have to walk past an identical new TV in the living room probably would’ve tipped them off.
Instead, the truck drove away before I could get to the door, and I called Jerry laughing.
“I know!” he said. “They just called me to say no one was home! You should’ve told them just to leave it on the porch!”
Reveling in the thought of two massive flatscreens was nice for a moment.
But we’re more than happy with just one that works.