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For Vanity's Sake

I should preface this story by saying that I purchased all of my kitchen appliances from Lowe's (East) during a Memorial Day sale weeks ago. Things like a gas stove, fridge, and dishwasher. They have agreed to hold onto my order until it's time to be delivered to our house. I should also mention that whenever you call the store to inquire about your order, they will always look it up using your phone number. There, now my story can begin...

We are renovating an entire house. I am new to this whole process and it's been an exciting ride of ups and downs so far. We can't wait to get moved in and settled. I have been ordering things such as bathroom vanities (we have three) so they'll be here when our contractor is ready to install them. Easy enough. I ordered one from Knox Rail Salvage (I'll save that for another story) and one from Home Depot (great experience with them- almost heartwarming with their attention to detail) and one from Lowe's (West).

I called Lowe's (W.) one day to purchase this adorable little vanity for our ½ bath downstairs. I made the purchase with my credit card over the phone and they said it would be delivered to their store and I could call in a few days to see if it's there. I ask for a receipt, and the woman audibly sighs and says, “I'll have to scan it and email it to you.” So when I get it, it's so faded that I can't even read it. I think to myself (sarcastically) at least they have my phone number? A few days go by and I call and they ask, “What's your number?” and I tell them and they put me on hold and come back and say, “Oh, you're calling about the gas stove?”

“Um... no, the vanity.”

Put on hold again and then she comes back, “It's on a truck and should be delivered by Monday.” To which I reply, “Can you call me when it comes in?” And she says ,“Nobody is going to call you.”


So I call again when it's time and they tell me the same story, “It's on a truck and should be here by next Monday.” I can't track my package, I don't have a receipt, and no one is willing to call me when it comes in... I'm done. So I get online to start a new search and low and behold there's one sitting IN THE STORE at Lowe's (East).

I call them and this sweet gentleman in plumbing, Nathan, is able to locate one but it's a display. He can't sell me the display. But he's willing to dig a bit deeper for me and I think things are looking up when he's able to locate not one but TWO in the back! He says to me, “Ah, yes. This is a very coveted item.” My heart rate rises, “Can you put my name on it? I've purchased one at the other Lowe's and maybe they can transfer my payment?” He says I'll have to call them and get it refunded and then repurchase it, but unfortunately, he is unauthorized to put it aside for me.

I decide to make the drive to Clinton Hwy after work and get my beloved vanity before someone else does. Once I can put my eyes on it, I'll call and cancel my other order. Seems like a really good plan.

I arrive to the Lowe's (East) and a guy helps me locate one in the back. He said he doesn't *think it belongs to anyone. He puts it on a cart and I decide now is a good time to cancel my other order. I call Lowe's (West) and they ask for my number... “Oh, you're calling about the gas stove?” “NO. The bathroom vanity! I want to cancel my order, have it refunded because you guys have been giving me the runaround and I don't have time to wait.” She puts me on hold. This is when shit gets weird. The hold music that I'm hearing on the other end is the exact same song that's playing in the store I'm standing in. I think I'm in the twilight zone. Or maybe I called the wrong store? Maybe I accidentally called THIS store? I hang up out of frustration and confusion. I decide to go for a little walk with my new vanity in tow.

I stop in the paint section to call them back. The woman who answers says rudely, “Yeah, I know your situation, the girl you were just talking to told me. You're money is going back on your Visa.”

Ugh. Let's focus on paints now. That's fun, right?

Basically, they mix the wrong paint colors because I asked for Benjamin Moore and they say they don't have it, but they can mix similar ones. I trusted them, but shouldn't have because I ended up getting a can that looked like mint chocolate chip ice cream. I hand it sheepishly back to her and say, “I'm sorry, I don't think this color is gong to work for me.” I can tell she's annoyed because she just took 5 minutes of her time to mix it for me and she had a stint on her pointer finger. She wasn't thrilled with her broken finger or her job.

As I make my way to the checkout, I'm looking inside the other paint can and it's a terrible beige color that looks nothing like the one I asked for. I then did something no customer should EVER do. I put it on a shelf with the gum and batteries... where it doesn't belong. But I'm too scared to go back to the paint section and give “stint finger” another one back! So I place it ever so delicately on the shelf. Then, out of the corner of my eye I see paint lady approaching me and she says, “Um, do you not WANT that?” To which I reply, “Maybeeeee... I'm still thinking about it?” She's like, “If you don't want it just give it back and I'll dispose of it.” YIKES! I hand it back to her and as she's walking away I can see her mouthing something to her fellow employee. She wasn't impressed with me, but you know what!? I wasn't impressed with her either. So screw it.

The cashier checks me out. Moments later, a gentleman is trying to help me put it in my car and it doesn't fit. 2 inches too big. It's hot and I'm tired and I'm beginning to think that me and this vanity aren't meant to be together.

I go to customer service and the paint nazi is there (she's everywhere evidently, lurking behind every corner) so I know she's not going to help me. But this other lady does and she says she has to refund the payment and then reapply it to my card. I can feel my blood pressure rising. “I JUST purchased it right over there (I point to a distance 10 feet away) WHYYY?” She says, “Ma'am, it's just what we have to do in order to put it on a pickup slip.”

Why? Why is this so damn complicated?

Then she scans my receipt and says, “Oh, that's weird. I don't see it on here. I don't believe it.” To which I reply, “ Oh, I believe it! After everything I've been through to try and get this vanity. This has been the most frustrating experience EVER!”

She says it's going to be okay. I think she can detect my near meltdown. I ask her if she can take a giant sharpie and just mark my name on it? She says, “No, it'll be fine, Dear.”

I don't believe her.

As I walk out, there's a man two feet in front of me who farts. Yes, I can hear it it's so loud. And I think to myself, well that's just icing on the cake, isn't it? Like a cherry on top of this God-forsaken day. That's about how I'd expect this story to end... with a giant FART.

I get in my car (sans vanity) and lose my shit. The ugly crying begins. The giant, painful tears of frustration and defeat followed by laughter that makes me feel like a crazy person. Thanks, Lowe's. Thanks for EVERYthing. I just hope I get my appliances, and yes, that gas frickin' stove.

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