We’d just bought a new washer and dryer and I was super stoked- it doesn’t take much when you’re a stay-at-home Mom. On the day they were to be delivered, I’d spent most of the morning in anxious anticipation- trying to keep the kids occupied and sorting little piles of laundry and imagining a washer that actually spins at a velocity that forces water out of the clothes instead of me having to finish the job by hand wringing individual socks and t-shirts.
I received an automated phone call informing me that our purchase would soon be at our home and asking me to “ask the delivery crew to see their badges.” I thought that was a little weird from the get-go.
A few minutes later, a large white, unmarked delivery truck showed up at our house and two men in street clothes without- name tags or badges- knocked on our door. One man was holding a clipboard, had a cigarette behind his ear, was sweating profusely and sniffing a lot- he was obviously official- so I pointed them around to our mudroom.
They removed the old machines and installed the new ones. It seemed as though they were about to leave so I mentioned to the men that we needed the dryer door switched to open on the opposite side. We’d requested the switch when we purchased the appliances and it was on the work order we were given. It had, apparently, been left off of their work order because they looked at me with confusion and disgust- they’d thought they were all done.
Delivery Man: “You tellin’ me I gotta switch this door to open on the other side? I don’t think that’s possible.”
Me: “They (the company) told us it was no problem- it’s on our work order.”
Delivery Man (sighing and shaking his head): “I didn’t know nothing about this. Can I see that work order?”
I handed it to him and he hesitantly handed it back. He asked the other man to go get the toolbox out of the truck.
Delivery Man: “I guess I’ll see what I can do.”
That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear from the person who was about to go at our virgin $600 dryer with sharp tools but I stepped away, knowing that it was just a simple switch of hardware and feeling sure that he’d do a fine job.
After half an hour of them working on the door, they called me to the mudroom. “Alright, we got it switched. Just need you to sign right here.” He was standing in front of the dryer and shoved the clipboard toward my hand.
The thing is, though, he put the door back on the same side it had been on. I shit you not.
Me: “Right, but it’s on the same side it was on in the first place. See, I need it to open from right to left.”
He had, indeed, taken the door off but he must’ve 1) thought I wouldn’t notice and intentionally put the door back on the way it was, 2) just given up and didn’t want to talk about it or 3) mistakenly re-attached the door the way it was. I chose to believe that he was confused and just made a mistake.
Delivery Man (sweating through his shirt, reeking of stale alcohol, sniffing constantly and looking at me like I’ve grown a second head just off my shoulder): “What? No M’am- I took the door off and put it back on.”
Me: “Yeah, I saw the door off but I think you accidentally put it back on the original way. I need the handle to be on the right.”
Delivery Man to his co-worker: “This is not how I wanted to start this day. You need to call dispatch and tell them we gon’ be late to our other runs because the goddamn dryer door.”
After another 45 minutes, I was called back to the mudroom. The man looked spent and pissed and defeated. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me as he handed me the clipboard once again. I was supposed to inspect the new machines and sign off stating there was no damage. Again, he was standing in front of the dryer, blocking my view.
Me: “It says I’m supposed to be sure there’s no damage.”
Delivery Man: “Yeah…I guess. I’ll let you look over everything. I’m gon’ step outside.”
That’s when I noticed the big-ass dent in the dryer door. He came back inside a few minutes later and I mentioned the dent.
Me: “I’m going to sign this, but there’s a dent in the door of the dryer…I’m going to make a note of that by my signature, okay?”
Delivery Man: “That’s fine-I just can’t spend anymore time here. I never done a door switch and we got other deliveries to make- we already running an hour behind. There’s a number on there you can call if you got complaints and what not.”
As they walked up the driveway toward their unmarked delivery truck, I heard him say “That was some goddamn bullshit right there.”
I called the (866) number on the paper soon after they were gone. We’ve got a $100 refund and a gift card to the store being delivered in 3-7 business days…hopefully not by the same man. I fear he’d use the card to cut up his cocaine and the check to snort it with.