It’s a long story and I’ll do my best to make it shorter – but if you know me, or have read my stuff, you know you’re in for a tale.

We (I) wanted a new dining room table. It would be my first. Not a hand-me-down. Not one owned by him before we got married (which wouldn’t happen anyway; he only had a coffee table). We were hosting Thanksgiving at my home for sixteen family members. SIXTEEN!

I asked husband what he wanted in a dining room table – his DREAM table. He replied that he’d like a rectangle shape, nor rounded corners. Pedestal legs, not corner legs. And an extension leaf in the middle, so we could make it longer or shorter. Oh, and he wanted a minimum of 7 feet in length. I wanted cushioned chairs. We searched the internet and actually found one that we liked. We went to the furniture store to purchase said table. We wanted to see the showroom model, but they didn’t have the space to show every piece in their catalog. Okay, we said.

We pay. We set a delivery date. We wait. I didn’t read the fine print.

The table arrives on October 30. The delivery team is polite, friendly, and seem to do a fine job in setting up the table. They ask, would we like them to install the extension leaf or leave it out. At the time, we thought nothing of the question, as it was our first NEW dining room table delivery. We looked it over when they were done. It looked lovely, sitting there in the space we’d made. I imagined our family around the table in a few weeks, enjoying a meal together. All my children would be under the same roof for the first time in seventeen years!

Having given the delivery team the okay to leave, and a generous tip, they departed. I dusted off the table and sat in one of those cushy chairs to admire it. That’s when I saw it. There was a HUGE dent the extension leaf. WTF!

We immediately contacted the furniture store, who redirected us to claims, and a replacement table was scheduled for a week before Thankgiving.

Here’s where the real fun began, and how I lost my shit on a customer service rep.

The second table delivered came with a warped extension leaf and one of the table-top surfaces was not finished. The delivery team said they’d enter a claim immediately, and left. I contacted the store again, to make my complaint known. An assessment technician appointment was scheduled so another person from the store could confirm our new claim. After that tech came to visit, confirmed our claim, took photos and spoke to his supervisor, he assured us that the claim was valid and that we’d receive a new table.

Following that meeting, we received some very frustrating communications from the call center, first to send another technician out to confirm what the first technician confirmed, then to schedule a delivery instead.

We scheduled the table delivery for three separate occasions, each canceled because: 1) they didn’t recieve a replacement table in time for delivery (Dec. 23), 2) the table they did receive was damaged and could not be delivered (Dec. 30), and 3) the table they were going to deliver was damaged by the delivery team as they were loading it onto the truck. That was on January 16.

On January 15, I received an email confirming our delivery. On January 16, I received a text message from the delivery team at 7:30 am telling me they were on their way. It was almost too good to be true. I felt a glimmer of hope that this ordeal (which it felt like) was almost over. And then, at 8:30 am, I got a call from another call center person telling me that the table was damaged while being loaded onto the truck. Yeah. I lost it. My composure, my finesse, my kindness. I yelled, I swore, I ranted about all the issues since the first delivery. He offered to reschedule a delivery and I hung up on him. Not my best moment. But wait, it gets worse before it gets better.

Realizing my error, I called the customer care number back, and when another call center person answered, and asked how they could help me, I launched my tirade onto them. I hadn’t cooled down nearly enough to attempt a reasonable conversation with them. And they hung up on me. Ugh.

Third time is a charm, they say. And it was. I did some deep breathing. I reminded myself of the person I wish to be in all situations. Calm, reasonable, not a doormat, and not an asshole. I was calm, I stuck to the facts, and the call center person filed ANOTHER claim and told me that someone would contact me for a rescheduled delivery in a couple of days.

The reschedule request came in the form of an email. I scheduled the delivery electronically. And I let all that shit go. I relayed all that transpired to husband and laughed at myself, at the absurdity of my behavior. It’s a fucking table. Was I frustrated about the number of delays? Yes. The incompetence of the delivery teams? Hell, yes. Was all of that out of my control? Obviously.

Yesterday the newest table was delivered. There is a blemish in the tabletop, a stain, as if a drop of the wood sealer wasn’t wiped clean in time. And the extension leaf is flush with the table (yay) and yet there is a small gap between one corner of the extension leaf and the table. I conceeded to the Universe and I accepted the table as it is. Because it’s just a fucking table. A lesson. An object that reminds me how little control I really have over everything by my response. A reminder that I get to choose who I want to be in this world, that I get to pick my battles. This battle is over.

I will be meeting with the store manager though.

Thanks for reading.