It started with love at first sight - sweet teak and rattan deck chairs, elegant and timeless. Expensive as hell but I’ve been searching for these - the ones I never thought I needed bit oh so desired! So I saved, went to the showroom to see them, touch them, feel them. Ordered them!
Waited eight long weeks for them to be manufactured- by hand - imagining the perfect scene: golden hour, a sundowner in hand, sinking into comfort.
And then they arrived. WHAT THE CRACK???
My heart dropped. The retailer was apologetic. “Do you have the packaging?” they asked. Of course not. Who keeps giant cardboard boxes for weeks? No problem, they assured me. A collection and exchange would be arranged.
Four more weeks passed. The new chairs arrived. The delivery guys were friendly, helping me unbox them. I could feel the excitement building. And then—wrong color.
No. No, no, no.
Back on the truck they went. Another call. More apologies. Another four weeks of waiting. At this point, I was more wary than excited. New delivery guys, oblivious to my anxiety, brought the third set. I opened the boxes, hands trembling.
They looked perfect.
That evening, I finally let myself relax. Drink in hand, I sank into my beautiful new chair. But then—I sank some more. Slowly. The rattan gave way beneath me, stretching like a trapdoor.
Was this happening? Was it me? The weight of my dinner? Was it the chair?
“CLICK, click, c-l-i-c-k” - I took yet another set of pictures.
It’s not me… it’s you! Called the retailer. This time, I expected another round of apologies. Instead, I got a call center agent who was clearly in the wrong profession.
Her: “But you don’t have the packaging.”
Me: “…Don’t. Get. Me. Started.”
She ended the call. I sat there, staring at my defective throne, wondering what fresh level of absurdity would unfold next.
The following day, I stormed into the store, explained everything, and left them to sort it out.
The next day, an email. Another apology. A new exchange promised. But then - a twist 2 weeks later.
A call. “We’re on our way.” Huh? So soon!
My pulse quickened. Was this finally it? I rushed home, cleared space, braced myself. Hours passed. The doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find…
A box of packaging. No chairs. Just packaging.
I stood there, staring at the empty promise of cardboard, questioning my entire existence.
Another week c-r-a-w-l-e-d by. And then… success.
The chairs. The right chairs. No cracks. No sinking. No disasters.
I sat down, holding my breath.
They held.
After countless weeks (and deliveries), and an emotional rollercoaster I did not sign up for… I sit.
