And the saga continues... ***UPDATED***

I have never been one to have good luck. If something bad can happen, it will happen to me. I’m not saying this because I feel sorry for myself (except maybe I do a little bit), no I’m just stating the fact that Steve and I have the worst of luck.

Some examples:

When we finally saved up enough money to buy a purebred Boston Terrier, we had her for a week before her eye was torn open by an attack from the cat. She had to undergo expensive surgery and numerous medical treatments (thankfully, Steve's parents came to the financial rescure). She almost lost her eye. It was a terrible and tragic time for us. She has a permanent scar on her eyeball and we will always have to watch for health problems.

When we got married, I planned and planned and planned (as everyone does) and made sure that every detail was taken care of. Steve and I even took dance lessons for weeks before our wedding so that we could look good when it came to our first dance. I had also bought the most beautiful (and expensive) pair of Steve Madden shoes that I could not wait to wear. Well, I got married on a Friday and on the Wednesday night before the wedding, I sprained my ankle. BADLY. I could barely walk. So no fancy dance moves, and no beautiful Steve Madden shoes (I still haven’t worn them outside of my house).

When we remortgaged our townhouse to get a line of credit – the bank employee mistakenly had us sign the wrong documents, but didn’t tell us until a week later when we were wondering why we still didn’t have our line of credit. It then took another MONTH before we actually saw our line of credit – except every day that it was late and we phoned to complain she told us - no, she ASSURED us it would be in our account “tomorrow”. In the meantime we accrued interest on the accounts that she was supposed to pay off for us and close.

We leased a brand new car because we were tired of my old car continually breaking down and costing us money. Except after only having the car for 3 years, it broke down. We were told it was under warranty until the dealership decided that it was going to be expensive to fix. It ended up costing over $3000 to repair (thankfully Steve’s parents once again came to our financial rescue). And we were without the car for over a month while they took their time repairing it. All the while, I had to take public transit and walk to and from work – thru construction, over a bridge, in the rain.

And people, I won’t even get into what happened when Steve and I decided we wanted to start a family...

These are just a few examples. There are many, many, many more hard luck stories that I could tell but I'm sure your tissues are damp enough already.

So the latest incident with our new table, chairs and barstools should come as no surprise to me. The furniture store FINALLY called yesterday to say that our furniture order was in and we could come pick it up. On the way to pick it up, Steve mentioned to me that the guy told him that the table is slightly smaller than the one I ordered. What? Why is it smaller? Not sure, but the guy says it’s the same table, only a little smaller.

Already this is starting to go bad...

So we get to the store and I ask our salesgirl why the table is smaller and she feeds me a big salesy line of bullshit. “It’s what everyone wants these days, smaller tables. Because everyone lives in condos they need smaller tables to take up less space.”

Ummm, but I don’t live in a condo and I want the exact same table that I have already bought and paid for. And as it turns out, the table I ordered is 42” x 42”. The table that was sent to me is 36” x 36”. Quite a big difference actually.

The box containing the table is sitting outside ready to go. The girl tells me to just take it home and if I don’t like it, I can return it. I explained to her that while it might be easy enough to fit the box of dismantled table and chairs in my jeep – once I get it home and put it together, it’s not going to fit back in the jeep. She keeps saying to me, “Oh don’t worry about it! Don’t worry about it!” Okayyyyy....?

Finally Steve says he’s opening the box and looking at the table before we take it. And good thing he did. We open the box and the table is not only way too small but it is a different color! Upon further inspection it is not even the same table!!! Completely different style. I refuse to take the table and ask for my money back. But it is late and the two girls who are working are “not allowed” to give credits.


Besides, they are sure that they can get the actual table I ordered to their store by 10am today. They assured me that if they can’t get it by today at 10am, then they will give my money back.

If they could get the right table why would they try to spoof us into taking a smaller, uglier, cheaper table in the first place??? (Bait and switch?)

Why couldn't we just simply see a table, like it, buy it, take it home and live happily ever?


After speaking with the manager today, Steve was told that they couldn't actually get our table and chairs in for at least another 4 weeks.

Fine, then I want my money back.

And that's where the story get's even longer and our luck gets even shittier....

They are fully prepared to refund my money, but they want me to bring my Visa in to put a credit on my Visa account. The problem with this is - I didn't pay for the stuff with my Visa, I paid with my debit card. I thought this sounded a bit fishy so I called Visa and they told me that if this is the ONLY way to get my refund it is "ok", but it is certainly not recommended and I should demand that they put the money back on my debit card - like every other retail outlet in the world!!! Besides that, I don't need a $520 credit on my Visa, instead I could really use that money in my bank account - where the money came out of in the first place.

Anyways, I phoned the store myself because I didn't want to make another trip there for nothing. The manager asked that I bring in my Visa and he would happily credit me but insisted that his debit machine does not have the capability of giving a credit. I called bullshit on this but he wouldn't relent. Finally after arguing with him for a few minutes he said that if I wanted to come in tomorrow he would write me a cheque. He couldn't write me a cheque today because he doesn't keep a cheque book in the store.

This is not what I prefer, but this is what I'll do to get my money back.

Now, you might think that I went to Shady Bill's Basement of Bargains but actually this store is fairly large and has a couple of locations. Not that I would recommend going to either one of them after all this.

Now, does anyone blame me for experiencing Post Purchase Depression when this is the sort of shit that happens to me on a continual basis?

Let's hope this is the end of the story.