After his trombone had (unbeknownst to me) been lying in the music room at school gathering dust for A WEEK, Sweet Pea came home to tell me:
Sweet Pea: She says you have to call them again because they didn’t pick it up. (Clear as mud, right?)
Me: Who… Wait, what? What are you talking about?
Sweet Pea: The band teacher. They haven’t picked up the trombone to fix it.
Me: No way! They said they would handle it! Angel said it would be at no cost to me. He said he would pick it up Tuesday because that was the day they went to your school and he would get it and fix it and it would be fixed and I wouldn’t have to get out of my chair!! How can this be?!
Sweet Pea: They didn’t. She says you have to call them.
Sweet Pea was so casual about the whole thing as if it were just a simple mistake instead of a plot to make me lose my faith in humanity. Or at least in customer service
angels representatives everywhere. Ugh.
I called the trombone store and talked to another, slightly less sweet
mere mortal representative. She promised they would get it the next day, which they did. I would go on about how efficient she was, but we don’t have the trombone back yet and fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and I am going to get really pissy. I’ll let you know, but I am pretty sure they will break the thing, return the wrong instrument, charge me or otherwise give me a reason to hate them hassle me. It may be premature, but the once beloved Trombone Brownies may just be jackholes.