I ordered a couch in February from Homary. Received the confirmation. Then nothing.
For months.
Eventually I reached out and they said: “It is on its way from China. We’ll let you know when it hits the U.S.”
And then nothing. And nothing. And nothing.
Until miraculously, I got an e-mail informing me my couch would arrive Monday. So, I worked from home and waited for my couch to arrive.
It didn’t.
I called and they told me that actually it was coming Wednesday.
I went to work Tuesday and missed a call from them…informing me at that my couch was arriving in an hour.
I called them back trying to track down my couch. They didn’t know what happened. But my couch would be delivered Wednesday.
I called Wednesday and they confirmed my couch was coming. Then I got another call from them, different guy. He noticed they were delivering to an apartment. Problematic. My package was heavy and he was only sending a delivery driver, so I better find someone to help the driver get the package up the stairs.
My entire motivation in ordering a couch online was to avoid asking people to help me move a couch into my apartment. I live on the third floor and didn’t (at least in February) have the social structure in place to ask people to move a couch for me.
Thankfully, some of the GenJ interns offered to help me out. So, I called back the delivery company and told them about my makeshift volunteers. They assured me everything was good to go.
Then I get another call from them. Actually, my couch was buried in their warehouse and they didn’t have the personnel to get it out. They would deliver it Thursday. I vetoed Thursday. They said not to worry, the couch would be delivered first thing Friday.
Friday rolled around. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I gave them a call. They assured me my couch was on the way and they would give me an hour’s notice before it came.
I got the notice! I texted the guys who offered to help get the couch up the stairs and they promised to arrive in an hour.
Ten minutes later, the delivery guy arrived.
“This package for you, my dear?”
Lots of my dears. Lots of darlings. No actual confirmation of my identity.
The neighbor in the building next door came over to complain that he had parked in handicap parking. Apparently, she had “already chased two others off!” in front of her building. She wasn’t going to have anyone park in handicap.
The driver said he would only be there 2 minutes.
She tried reaming me out for his parking choice and I told her it wasn’t my business. I just wanted my couch.
Taking umbrage with the nosy neighbor, the driver informed me it was none of her business either and to ignore her. She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures of the truck. He told her to go ahead–no one at the company would care. She threatened to call the cops. He started yelling. She started yelling. I wondered if maybe I should call the cops.
The driver dumped my couch out of the truck. Asked for my last name (I’ll give him that much, though by this point I could read it myself right off the label on the unidentifiable package at my feet.) Then he got in his truck and drove off. Any thoughts I had that maybe he would come back and help me get the thing up the stairs died a quick death.
The interns arrived fifty minutes later, as requested. Probably they were flexing but they assured me the couch wasn’t nearly as heavy as the guy on the phone had claimed. We then got it into my apartment where we discovered it would take power tools to put it together.
Once again they came to my rescue and ran out to get their own drills.
They then politely complimented the couch, assured me it was firm but not too firm, and volunteered to take care of all the trash.
Moral of the story: I would have saved myself loads of time, money, and angst if I’d just gotten a used couch from Goodwill and asked for their help back in February.
And yes, I know. Most of my family right now can tell me: “I told you so!” But it is daunting to be the new person in a new city with a new social structure and ask for help.
Fernweh's Call 