This week has been a busy one. Things have gotten crazy at work; I am still making up from my trip to the States and also preparing for a cut in hours due to the start of ulpan (tomorrow!!). I have been working late, I finally made it to the gym, and I am moving.
Last week, most of my closet was delivered (I am missing two doors which came damaged and are being replaced). I spent part of Thursday and most of Friday moving things from one apartment to the next (thanks to everyone who lent cars and man-power) and unpacking and organizing. I left Friday feeling good; my room was mostly in order--I just needed my bed.
Today, my bed was delivered. It was supposed to be custom-made. The original height felt too low when I laid down for a nap in the store, and the manager said that he would be able to request a taller bed-frame. Let's start at the beginning though. A couple of weeks ago, I had an interesting shopping experience looking for furniture. As you recall, the closet was supposed to be "rushed", and "rushed" it was. I got in about a week and a half. A week and a half before it was promised to me.
The bed was another story. I did a lot of shopping around before I ordered my futon. I sat on it. I laid down. I left. I returned. I opened it myself. I took a nap. Then I closed it. And then I tried to order it and the charge wouldn't go through on my credit card. As I was leaving (either the first or the second time--I don't remember), the manager gave me a business card for the store and wrote down his private cell. I thanked him and promised to return the next day with a different card. And return I did, much to his surprise--or at least his boss's. I guess they were taking bets on whether or not I would come back. We placed the order without a hitch (I did sit a bit more and lie a bit more), negotiated on a delivery within three weeks, got me a discount, and requested the bed frame to be custom built higher off the ground.
Today when I came home (to my new home), I saw a lovely futon. The cover was the perfect color and texture (a dark brown/purple-y burlap), the size and placement were right too, as was the timing. The height, though, was not. I called the store (they should have been open still), but to no avail. It was so Israeli when Tzachi, the manager gave me his number in case I needed anything, and when I did, I actually used it (instead of waiting until the next day during business hours). Only in Israel would a manager of a small-chain furniture store give you his personal number and be cheery and helpful when you used it in the evening for a complaint. We chatted a bit, and tomorrow once the furniture factory opens, Tzachi will try and get everything straightened out. The time frame is still up in the air, but I should be getting a new new bed!
No comments:
Post a Comment