Gather round. For I am about to tell you a tale so wondrous and fantastical that your children’s children shall be reciting this very saga decades from now. Our story begins a long time ago, last weekend, in fact, when Wife asked me to pull out a shelving unit from her parents’ attic and assemble it. Alas, I knew I was screwed when I could not find the interlocking plastic sleeves that keep each shelf from sliding down the support poles. Wife must have taken the sleeves from their proper storage location and put them somewhere else – because doing so keeps me in a constant state of confusion and vulnerability – or worse, thrown them out. Thus, in my desperation, I was forced to call upon the most evil force in the universe: that pulsing, frothing Hydra of spite and incompetence. I’m talking, of course, about Customer Service. I’m sure all of you have had equally horrifying experiences with customer service representatives, so you can appreciate the wave of panic that swept down my spine as I looked up the contact number for the shelving unit’s manufacturer. To my surprise, it was listed as a small company in Southaven, Mississippi. Upon dialing, I was prompted with the obligatory automated forwarding menu (which was admittedly shorter than most), and then, quite unexpectedly, connected with a rep within about thirty seconds. I was stunned! I was so used to waiting hours on end, or leaving a callback number, or bashing my phone against the wall in the hopes that someone on the other end would take notice, that I could barely make out the words, “I need more shelving unit sleeves.” I’m not sure what class of magic Colleen, my incredibly patient, sweet, and courteous rep, was practicing, but she took care of me in less than three minutes, and just like that, the parts had been ordered, and I was off the phone. Of course, four days later, the sleeves were found. They had been moved by an unidentified third party. At least that’s what Wife claims. Oh, and Colleen, my guardian angel, cancelled my order without batting an eyelash. She even asked me if I would like her to put the phone up to the shredder so I could hear her destroy my check. “No, Colleen. That won’t be necessary. I trust you with all my heart.”
P.S. the manufacturer’s name is Whitmor. They make nice shelving units, and their customer service is amazing. This endorsement is (obviously) unpaid and voluntary.