Yesterday was a day of small disappointments. Here is a copy of the email I sent to the clog outlet:
“I would have answered my cell phone when you called me earlier today, if the number had not been 000-000-0000, and/or if the call identified itself as [your company]. I do not pick up calls from unidentified numbers.
“I am not entirely happy with this transaction. My initial order shipped with lightning speed, which pleased me wonderfully. But I would not have placed that order to begin with, had the shoes been clearly identified as narrow on your website. On other sites where I have bought Dansko or Sanita clogs, the unidentified size is the wider one which fits my feet, and only the narrow shoes are identified as to width. So I somewhat naturally assumed that it would be the same on your website.
“As for today’s missed call, if I had known that the purple shoes in the wider width were no longer available, I would have asked you to send me a turquoise pair, instead. Thank you for expediting my refund, but I would really rather have had a new pair of shoes to show for my trouble.
“As I see it, even with the return of my original order and the sales tax, I am still out $20+ for two shipping fees, with no shoes. Had you shipped me a replacement pair of shoes, either the purple ones I wanted or the turquoise ones, then we would have both eaten a shipping fee, and that would have felt fair. This does not inspire me to place another order.”
The refund has already hit my checking account. And if they continue true to form in terms of response time, I will hear back from them later today. I am not accusing them of a lack of integrity, but a lack of clarity.
In other crankypants news, notwithstanding the fact that I had requested (several years ago, after a frustrating incident) not to be placed on a committee with one of my coworkers who is typically brusque and frequently rude, the office manager decided that the kitchen needed to be reorganized prior to the visit next week of somebody new from Corporate. Lo and behold, I am on a committee with Ms. Difficult.
The other committee member (a peach) and I had spent half an hour after lunch on Monday, and fifteen minutes or so after lunch on Tuesday, emptying out the upper cabinets, throwing out geriatric cans and buggy oatmeal, and generally making ourselves useful. Yesterday about 3:00 Ms. Difficult went into the kitchen and tackled the [smaller number of] cabinets she had assigned herself. Then she came to my desk (where I was taking a break by reading Secondborn’s blog, thus admittedly not-busy) and started dictating an email which needed to go out to the office immediately.
After two or three sentences, when I was extemporizing, she said that we didn’t need to say that, and please take it out. I looked up at her and inquired, somewhat tartly, “Would you like to write this yourself?” [No, she would much rather boss me around. Point taken.]
Our third committee member, Ms. Peach, showed up at my desk shortly after the exchange of raised eyebrows, and from then on when Ms. Difficult dictated a sentence, I would type it and inquire of my friend, “That sound OK to you?”
In retrospect, what I wish I had said at the get-go was, “I think we will both be happier if you write this,” then closed the window on my Outlook and smiled up at her with the end-of-discussion smile that my children know only too well.
Office manager is out of the office on a well-deserved vacation. When she returns next week, and I am back from my own days off, I will remind her of our earlier discussion. I think I have saved a copy of that email in my personal folders; I had to delete it from Outlook when we adopted a new archiving policy. It was not something that needed to be retained and managed for 25 years.
In the meantime, I will keep Ms. Difficult in my prayers and put her on the prayer roll at the temple, and I will pray for help in getting the beams out of my own eye.
In happier news, the current incarnation of Wingspan is flying along. I weighed the remaining yarn last night, and I have used a little less than two-thirds of it to work eight repeats. So I can easily work three more repeats (and have begun the ninth) before binding off, and I might even get twelve out of it. I discovered yesterday that the yarn is a little splitty. I think it caught on something in my purse, because one of the plies was snagged and pulled out about three inches. I managed to get that worked back in.
Leslie, I was thinking of Noro Silk Garden myself, for a true shawl version. The yarn shop in Farmersville has lots and lots of the lovely stuff. I also have some Silk Garden Sock that I could use to knit another scarf, and it would be fun to use some of that crazy-skinny bamboo that I used for the doll shawlette last year, to make these for some of my resin kids.
Speaking of which, my bonus hits next week, and I think I am going to order the doll who will embody Hope. Then I will have Faith, Hope, and Charity, as well as Temperance and Honor and Chutzpah, and the two big dolls, Blessing and Celeste. I also would like to get the smoker/grill/whatever that Beloved was planning to buy when his tax refund arrives. I will have to wait two or three months for my doll to come from Korea; one of us ought to get a little instant gratification from my bonus!
This is the part where I start getting ready for work. Beloved is already out the door with his fishing buddy, and I have finally pushed the send button for my tax return. I have a leftover salmon burger patty to take for lunch, and some excellent fruit salad I made for dinner last night. We are watching We Bought A Zoo at lunch.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!