Should Have Shown The Table People The Door

, , , , | Working | February 17, 2020

(For a couple of years, my boyfriend and I lived in a teeny-tiny one-bedroom apartment with probably the smallest kitchen table there is to buy. Therefore, we are thrilled when we finally get our new apartment since it allows us to buy a new table that can fit all of our friends and family. The table is 2.5m long or approximately 8.2 feet. When ordering it, I pay extra for delivery up to the fifth floor. The elevator is big but not so big that it can hold a 2.5m-long table plus wrapping. Therefore, the instructions are that, on delivery day, there will be two persons from the delivery firm, carrying the table up the stairs. Seems simple, eh? The day of delivery:)

Delivery Guy: “I’m here to deliver a package for [My Name].”

Me: “That’s me, but you were supposed to be two persons.”

Delivery Guy: “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll fix this.”

(The delivery guy proceeds to take the table out of the truck, gets the table inside the apartment building — only because I hold the door open for him — and then lowers the table onto the floor in a brusque way. When the elevator arrives, he tries to shove the table inside the elevator car but since the table is longer than the car, when the doors closes, the table is sticking out quite a bit. He then tries to lean the table so that one side of it hits the roof and the other side hits the tile-clad floor. This continues for several minutes, while sweat is starting to break out on my skin. Bear in mind that this is a rather expensive table, at least for a twenty-something couple that has just bought an apartment.)

Me: “Are you sure about this? I did pay for two people to deliver this via the stairs.”

Delivery Guy: “Oh, no problem. It’s just a really small elevator.”

Me: *under my breath* “Well, it really isn’t.”

(New accessibility rules state that the elevators in new houses must have certain measurements; it’s a really big elevator. The delivery guy tries to take out the table from the car, shoving it into the glass doors in the hallway, then on the floor, then into the ceiling, making a large dent in it. By now I’m really sweaty because I know there is going to be at least one dent in the table.)

Delivery Guy: “I’m gonna try and take this via the stairs but the table is really heavy. How many stairs is it?”

Me: “It’s on the fifth floor.”

Delivery Guy: *lets out a heavy sigh and tries the stairs only to realize that the table is too heavy* “I’m gonna call a colleague and get some help.”

(In the end, the two delivery people got the table up the stairs and into the apartments. The whole thing took approximately an hour and a half. Nearly all corners were dented and I had to lodge a claim with the store. The new table arrived a couple of days later, via a different delivery firm, was brought up the stairs by two delivery people instantly, and had no dents when they were done.)

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