My Cry's Adventure

As you all know, Mr. Nonny Nu went into crisis mode on Friday because the living room's TV went out. Kaput. It just shut down. And, besides the TV, he only has us and the Nu kitties to keep him company during the day. Understandably, he went nutters.

Anyhow, the old TV we had was a Sony Wega XBR that we got in 2000 for around $3000. It has gone through one cross-country move, one cross-state move, and one cross-floor (from upstairs to downstairs) move. The one thing that I absolutely hated about this thing is that it was SO FUCKING HEAVY. The TV position is in a corner of the living room, and every time we added a new video or audio contraption to the set up, I'd have to squish back there and try to get everything plugged in.

Okay, back to the story. When I got home Friday night, we just decided not to succumb to the mass hysteria, and to take our time getting the right TV for us. We got dinner and watched Taxi on his iMac. It was great, actually. Then, we went to bed and watched TV on the old standby in the bedroom. It wasn't too bad, even though Mr. Nonny Nu pouted the whole way through.

The next day, we decided to just get an interim TV which would replace the bedroom TV when we got the real McCoy. I wanted to go to Best Buy, Circuit City, or Costco. Instead, I was sent to Cry's. Now, you all know how I feel about Cry's. This was an unforgivable wrong and a complete betrayal of my trust by Mr. Nonny Nu. And, to do what? To do a guy's job--haggling for electronics. You know how your mom always puts the whole family through some sort of hell around the holidays and, because it has become evidently inevitable, the whole family becomes resigned to it and just "let's it happen?" This is how I felt. It is like when a deranged but proud parent who overestimates their kid's ability and charisma keeps pushing the kid to perform in public. That's exactly how it feels.

So, off I went to Cry's. I find one that looks pretty good--the Toshiba 37HL67. Mr. Nonny Nu confirms that it has good ratings on CNET. It's at a very good price ($728), but the only one they had left was open box. And, guess what? They won't give a discount for open box, even though it was bought, opened, and then returned. And, out of curiosity, I ask about floor models. Oh, that would be a 5% discount on those. So, I ask the salesman, "You mean you will give me $36 off on an item that you've been using 24/7 in your showroom for months?" The salesman applied in the affirmative and explained that it was "policy," but I detected a crack in his signature Cry's "we can't do anything for you" mask.

Under Mr. Nonny Nu's instructions, I requested that the TV that I was going to buy be brought up to the sales floor and set up to verify that all the accessories were present and that it really did work. And, who does the salesman get to do this? Another salesman, who happened to have a gimpy leg. GREAT. Can you believe this shit? Now, the gimpy salesman is the only person I like at Cry's. He was very nice and did all of the assembly himself. I wasn't going to touch the thing since I didn't want any liability. But, I wanted to help so much because of his leg. This really killed me. I am a shamed rabbit.

Everything checked out. The TV came with a stand and it looked like the packaging for the stand wasn't even opened. The packaging for the instructions and the remote was also sealed, so it really did look like someone just brought it home and changed their minds. Of course, we'll never know if they dropped it between the car and their house, right? But, the box didn't look like it was dropped. I just don't know! Anyhow, there's a 30 day return policy on it.

So, we put the TV back in the box (I couldn't stand it any longer and just had to help out) and I wheeled it to the registers. As I was paying for the thing, I ask the clerk for help to my car, since is a rather larger rectangular box that is thin and being wheeled on a cart that has no tie-downs. She presents me with a release of liability for any damage occurring during the transport and loading of the item to my car. I ask her, "So, if I don't sign this, you guys won't help me to my car?" Obviously, the answer should be "Yes, if you don't sign this, we won't help you to your car." But, she hems and haws and invokes the "policy" again and says stuff like, "You need to sign this so we can bring the TV to your car." As if I am the one holding us up. What kind of store refuses to help their customers to their cars unless the customers release them from liability? And, if their clerks drop my TV on the way, is it really fair that I eat that?? OMG, I was about to go ballistic.

Rabbits don't do well in these sorts of situations. And, when I say, "these sorts of situations," I'm referring to situations in which I am creeped out by the personnel and feel like I'm getting shafted. What they don't tell you about the flight or fight response is that one can only fly so long. So, I start to raise my voice. I ask the clerk exasperatedly whether I am reading the language correctly, that if their people were to drop the TV I just now bought for $800 (including tax), then I just have to eat that. By now, there were quite a few people in line and at neighboring registers listening in on the conversation. Her response? (You're going to love this.)

"Madame, you did not pay $800 for the television. It is only $799.82."

HAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAA!!!!!!!!

Sensing that I was about to jam my pen into the clerk's left eye, the manager comes over and asks if he could be of any help. So, I explain to him that I think I have interpreted the release language correctly to mean that any damage caused by Cry's clerks to the TV between here and my car will be on me. He says that this is a correct interpretation. I ask him the question that I asked the clerk:

nn: "So, if I don't sign this, you guys won't help me to my car?"

manager: "That is correct."

nn: "Is your personnel going to take the TV into a loading elevator in the back or something? Because the TV box isn't really stable on this cart."

manager: "No."

nn: "Well, which route are they going to take to get the TV to my car?"

manager: "The same route you would take--out the front door."

nn: "Oh, you mean they are going out the front door, then down the first ramp, turn, and then down the second ramp? You mean that route?"

manager: "Yes."

nn: "Hm. Cry's designed this building, right?"

manager: "Yes, we have a different theme for every location. This one is the Egyptian theme."

nn: "We are on the second floor, right?"

manager: "Yes."

nn: "So, let me get this straight. I think I know the answer, but I just want to hear it from you. Cry's designed this building so that the entrance and exit will be on the second floor and, in order to get to the parking floor, all customers would have to walk down two ramps that have a turn in between them. And, and even though this box has nothing to secure it to the only cart you provide for your customers, the only way that you will help me navigate this $800 television down the two ramps that you made necessary is if I pay for any damage that your people do to my TV on the treacherous route that you designed?"

manager: "Um, yeah. It's policy."

I could not counter his logic. Alright, by this time, I was ready to go home. Actually, I was ready to go home when I parked the Dolly, but who's counting, right? So, I sign the release. Why? Because I'd have to do it myself otherwise, and I'd rather have two helpers that I can supervise than nothing at all. By this time, the helpers had arrived so I put the receipt on the cart's small upper level babyseat so that I can use my hands to stabilize the box as the helpers wheel the cart. As we go toward the door, the cart begins to slow down. I wonder why, and look up in time to see the receipt inspector approach and take the receipt out of the babyseat.

She starts checking off the corn nuts that I bought. Then, she starts to look for the TV box's zebra code to check that off. In the meantime, I ask what she is doing. She ignores me.

No...she...di'unt, did she? This time, I put my hand over the portion of the receipt that she's looking at and ask her again.

nn: "What are you doing?"

inspector: "I'm checking you out."

nn: "I'm sorry, I was already checked out. I paid for this item at register 29. This is why I have a receipt."

inspector: "But, I still have to check you on your way out. It's the rules."

nn: "Oh? That sounds official. Which California or federal statute requires this?"

inspector: "Oh, I don't know, but it's our policy."

nn: "Oh, so it's not a law?"

inspector: "No."

nn: "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

At this time, I snatched the receipt back before she could check off the TV box. I'm not normally this rude, but I guess I just had it. Good thing is, the guy behind me breezed past the inspector and told her, "No, you just said it wasn't required by law."

By this time, the helpers just wanted to get me gone. So they said that they'd handle things from here and suggested that I drive my car to the bottom of the ramp. I politely declined and explained that I would be accompanying them the whole way since I just now signed a release saying that if they were to drop the TV, I'd be eating it. They understood, and we went on our merry way.

Do you guys see why I hate Cry's?

...there's more to this story--click me!

Under Siegeby sluggy (housebound, terrified and highly caffeinated guest blogger)

Scene: A beautiful cloud-free Sunday. The air is still and a balmy 65 degrees. Birds chirping, squirrels running about. The distant hills, the mountain bike in the garage, the muddy hiking boots next to the door all beckon. Sluggy, however, is trapped inside her house, quivering (1) with doors barricaded.

Let me start at the beginning.

One benefit of being Nonny Nu’s hiking companion (2) is enjoying the splendor of nature … au naturale. Whoa people, I mean nature in its natural state, not NN and I cavorting like naked nymphs in horse dung in the Phleger Estate! Minds out of gutter? (3) Please proceed.

As a lover of nature, my absolute favorite thing to do (4) is try to bring a little nature back to where others have left desolation in their wake. This would describe my yard… the ugliest part of which was a nasty side “alley” that barely separates my house from my neighbors.

Over three years, I have spent many weekends working to bring a little nature back to this wasteland and make it a palatable place to pass through and view from the kitchen window. (5)

On a postage-stamp sized lot, it is necessary to use every square foot wisely so I squeezed in some tomato plants (6) and a potted herb garden.

This morning, as sluggy toured the “estate” with coffee in hand, I paid a visit to the veggie and herb section. For no particular reason, the oregano caught my attention.

Is it getting too much water? Not enough? Turning over the pot, I spied THIS squatter living in the side yard paradise!!!!

Sluggy hightailed it inside, heart pounding from this unexpected faceoff with her arch nemesis. (7) The spotted salamander is a CARNIVORE, and EATS SLUGS, people! Supposedly it only ventures out at night. Perhaps I can go out as long as I am barricaded back in before nightfall. These salamanders return to the same mating pool every year, and will travel long distances over land after a heavy rain to mate. (8) They secrete a noxious, milky toxin from their glands (9) to dissuade predators.

Sluggy welcomes suggestions for how to handle the next battle in what is sure to be an epic war to win back the veggie/herb section. The first tomatoes ripen in just two months, not to mention the precious potential visitor (10) whose safety is paramount.

Shall I place a green chair out there as a territory-marking throwdown? Borrow an overpowered shredder capable of cross-cutting Bobby into gushy 5/64" x 5/16" bits?

To be continued...

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(1) And not in that good, Fluff-induced way.

(2) A second, even greater, benefit is tempting Nonny Nu with bacon she will never ever get no matter how much she bitches about it. Too bad she canceled today’s hike because I had 12 precooked bacon strips ready to go in a fluffy cushion of shock-absorbing paper towels sealed in a ziplock baggie.

(3) Out of gutter for now. It is permissible for TWoNN dudes to retain the image in their “vault” for later use except, of course, Man from U.N.C.L.E. who may substitute the Rev. Dr. Terry Valentine for sluggy and Cl. Panic for Nonny Nu. Dung element optional. You know who you are.

(4) Even more than writing briefs and working all nighters, alas, ‘tis true.

(5) This involved stripping and staining the fence, building and staining a trellis, planting vines, watching the vines die in frost, crying, finding and planting new vines. The new vines are supposed to bloom various colors of white, yellow and red but have yet to do that. If they ever get around to it, there should be butterflies and hummingbirds a-plenty!

(6) Planting tomatoes in dry, nutrient-starved ground in a location that gets only a few hours of sunlight a day goes against conventional gardening wisdom, but last year the plants grew to over 8 feet!

(7) Sluggy is accustomed to idle references to salt attacks but this attack is coming from inside the homestead.

(8) Not unlike Bobby Peru. Well, actually, sluggy too. If there is a group salamander mating party, I promise to post photos for the prurient enjoyment of all except those subject to the freakishly puritanical Nu, Nu & Nu internet filter.

(9) Another similarity to Bobby Peru. I think I will name the salamander Bobby.

(10) Shameless excuse to mention most perfect niece and try to make footnotes exceed length of post.

...there's more to this story--click me!