Wednesday, April 27, 2011

TRONK!!!! (Or Why It Is Better To Sleep In Separate Rooms)

So, I have a really hard time falling asleep. It's been an issue since my freshman year of college, and has never improved. I think part of the current problem is the laundry list of TV shows cluttering up my DVR that calls to me after the kids go to bed.... and the other problem is that well.... I just can't sleep. So, last night was a landmark occasion because I actually started to drift off almost immediately.

I turned off 90210 (yes, I admit to watching that horrible train wreck of a tween show. I can pretend that it's so I can stay in touch with Tabbi's generation, but really... I just plain love it). Immediately, I was in that comfy place where your whole body just relaxes and my eyelids got heavy and I was just about asleep when suddenly this horrible noise startled me to full alert.

TRONK!!!!

What the hell? I sat up in bed, and looked around trying to figure out what the hell that noise was. Mark didn't wake up, so I started to wonder if I was dreaming. I settled back in and drifted off again after awhile only to be met with the sound again.

TRONK!!!!

Holy crap! What is that freaking sound? I sit up in bed, waiting. Waiting for that horrible noise to happen again. Waiting.... waiting... waiting.... TRONK!!!! Tronk! Tronk! Rapidly more tronks come until I look over at my peacefully slumbering husband and realize that he is tronking in his sleep. He is literally sound asleep saying "TRONK!" over and over.

Being the loving wife that I am, I let him continue sleeping (for about 1 millisecond) and then I smacked his arm and said, "Why are you saying clonk?" He replies sleepily but matter of factly, "I wasn't saying clonk, I was saying tronk because that is the sound that the heavy things make when I put them on the ground." Duh.

After my hysterical laughter subsided, I immediately began house hunting for a 5 bedroom home. TRONK!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Assley Furniture

I rarely use my power (translation.... blog) to solve my battles and in truth, only one other company has felt the wrath of the Cyber Lynn. But today... today, I think I have the right to go a little cyber pissed on none other than Ashley Furniture. Before I go on, I will admit that I have never worked in retail sales, and I certainly recognize that it can be a difficult job. However, I also expect the term "customer service" to actually result in servicing the customer, and when that doesn't happen.... the world ought to know.

I ordered a bedroom set from Ashley Furniture on January 30th. I went into the store looking to replace some shady nightstands and fell in love with.... Naomi. She had rich mahogany(esque) wood finish, a leather upholstered inset on the headboard and knobs so silver you could practically see yourself in them. At that point, there was no stopping at nightstands (with velvet lined drawers). Instead I bought the whole set. I counted the days til it arrived, and on February 24th (Tabbi's birthday, but I got the present) it was installed.

I loved Naomi even more in my house than I did in the store.... until six days later when she let me down at 3am. Literally. Down. As in the side rail of the bed collapsed. Six. Days. Later. Fast forward through a bunch of crap and finally, FINALLY, the new side rail arrived and the Ashley installation crew came out. I only had to wait a month and 3 days (yeah... how's that for quick service), for Naomi to be back in action. She was a little scarred from the fall and the month and three days living in a pile (thanks for that, Ashley repair guy), but I still loved her. I sat down with care, rolled over with hesitation. Then after a night or two, I became confident that she really was everything I wanted her to be.

Until April 19th. WHEN SHE FREAKING BROKE AGAIN!!! This time Naomi crumbled under the weight of my two year old. He stepped onto the side rail (the NEW ONE) to climb into the bed, and instead it gave way. Again the bed was on the floor, only this time, it was a miracle that Jack didn't fall underneath it. This time, instead of the head of the bed collapsing, it was where the foot board meets the side rail, leaving me to ponder.... is this furniture just crap... or are the installers not the sharpest tools in the shed???

Unfortunately, Ashley Furniture doesn't seem to care about finding out the answer. Through my numerous calls to the call center and one trip to the local store, they care much more about the almighty dollar than the fact that my son (MY TWO YEAR OLD SON) could have been injured. "Just order another Naomi bed," the call center genius said, as if she just couldn't quite grasp that no parent in their right mind would take another chance at injuring their kid. I explained that while Russian roulette with a bed seemed like a lovely idea, I think I'd pass. I explained that I would like a new bed, but unfortunately there was only one in that entire store that matched the dresser, mirror and two nightstands that came in the Naomi set. And it was $300 more. But, the poor, disenfranchised, giant national chain store apparently can't afford to give me the extra $300 for the bed, because clearly Mr. and Mrs. Ashley would have to go without their caviar and champagne for dinner tonight if they did that. Instead, their crackerjack customer disservice team thinks that I should either replace my deathtrap with a new deathrap (because that worked so well last time), or go in and find another set of equal or lesser value. Really, Ashley? If this bed can't last a month, do you really think I want cheaper version? And if I did like a set of equal or lesser value...wouldn't I have bought that the first time?

In any case, I've been doing a lot of research on this company and apparently poor customer service is what they are known for. What an honorable reputation. It's just too bad that I had waited to do the research until it was too late. I just hope for my friends and readers out there, that this may help them in their hunt for furniture in the future. Just say no to Ashley Furniture, where you get more pain than pleasure.