You wouldn't think it could get worse...

You may have surmised that my doors are still missing from my house.
Last weekend brought on this conversation:

"I'm really sorry, but we can't get another truck out to you. The delivery company can't find another box truck to rent. It's going to be Monday before we can deliver your doors."

"I have an installer coming Monday. This would be the third time I've had to bump his schedule if you can't have them there by Monday morning. I really don't want to chance having to do that. Again."

"I understand. Do you have a vehicle with a hitch?"

"Yes."

"We can loan you one of our rental trailers free of charge if you wouldn't mind transporting the doors yourself. We'll load them up and secure them for you."

"That's better than nothing, so sure. We'll be over within the hour."

This means I have to find some manpower to unload the doors and haul them up the sand hill to the house, but I figure we'll deal with that once the doors are on site. So I call my husband he hurries home from his errands so we can head off to get the trailer and our doors.

While I'm waiting for him, the manager calls back.

"Umm. I'm really sorry. It just occurred to me that we don't have your doors here. They're still on the box truck in the towing company's yard. Glad I caught you before you were on the road.

"Yes, you are. That would have been a very bad situation, had I arrived only to find they were not there. Again." I take a deep breath. "So what do we do?"

"I'll call you first thing Monday morning and let you know where we're at on this."

"All right."

Monday morning comes and I wait for the call that doesn't come. So I call.

"We're still waiting to hear from the delivery company. We've left several messages with them."

"Great. If you can't get this door here by noon, I'm bumped until Thursday with the installer."

"I'll call them back right now and get an answer."

"Sounds good."

Twenty minutes later, the very flustered manager calls me back.

"You're not going to believe this."

"Uh oh." I'm imaging the truck exploded. My door was stolen. It's damaged beyond repair.

"I got the real story from the delivery company. The driver did make it to your city, but then he got pulled over. He had warrants and he was arrested. The truck has been impounded by the police."

Maniacal laughter erupts from my throat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. I should be really pissed, but this is so crazy, that I can't help it."

He nervously chuckles. "I know. It's kind of totally out of my control. We'll make this right, I promise."

I guess this explains why the missing delivery driver hadn't called me on Friday. He just may have used his phone call for someone more helpful in that particular situation.

"We were hoping to have the door to you this afternoon, but you see, the owner of the delivery company has to claim the truck and the goods inside because they are in a police impound lot."

"Okay."

"He's on vacation in Florida."

Yes, really. I am now utterly convinced my characters are plotting against me, and they're doing a really good job of it.

"He's flying back today."

"So the odds of me getting the door today are pretty slim."

"Sadly, yes. When they do get delivered, look them over and I'll call you on Wednesday to work out compensation for this situation."

At this point what can either of us do? We both sigh and hang up the phone.

Tuesday comes and plods along. No phone calls from either the manager or the delivery company. I'm relishing the thought of the conversation on Wednesday when I let him know the doors didn't get delivered. Then, at 5:15, as I'm starting dinner so I can get over to the house soon to work on installing the radiant flooring shielding plates, I get a phone call from the delivery company.

"We're on our way. We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Well damn, good thing I'm home and live close to the new house. I ditch dinner and drive over to the site and wait. And wait.

Just when I'm about to call them back, they show up with my doors. Yes, both of them. They are not damaged beyond the little dent I'd already seen. They are at the house! Hooray!


As to the delivery company, the owner delivered them along with his entertaining conscripted teen nephew. If you've ever watched a person carry something heavy through sand in big floppy untied trendy tennis shoes you'll understand  my meaning of entertaining. The owner looking forward to speaking with the arrested driver to give him a piece of his mind. He apologized profusely. I was sorry his vacation was screwed up as he seemed like a really nice guy.

The driver is still in jail.

The stupid service desk person who told me my door was there and I should drive over to look at it - went it wasn't really there - is still blissfully working behind her desk. Woe to those who come in contact with her.

The manager was very apologetic and offered a level of compensation that negated the majority of my frustration with his store.

The door...still needs to be installed. Let's just hope the story stops here, shall we?