So last weekend sometime I sold a sectional. I am absolutely religious about checking ETA dates whenever I order furniture, as you are probably aware if you’ve ever read any of my posts about my job before. I absolutely despise dealing with pissed-off people, which makes me the most honest salesperson on the planet, because I’ll lose a sale in a second before I’ll misrepresent when something is gonna come into the store. Because you’re gonna notice, and I’m not gonna want to deal with you when you do.
So. A bit of background: our company has two main warehouses. Our upholstered product is all supposed to come to us from one of them, but if that warehouse is out of a particular piece and the other warehouse has it, we can send an email and switch which warehouse it comes from and it still shows up on the same timeline. I do this a lot, as you can probably imagine. However, the person who responds to those emails works banker’s hours. So I was rather dismayed on Monday to discover that a particular piece had sold out from the secondary warehouse over the weekend and that I now couldn’t get it until– wait for it– June, when I told my customers to expect it in the store in 7 to 10 days.
June is farther away than 7 to 10 days.
No problem! I found one at our Lafayette store, and decided that rather than wait for a truck to come through from their store to ours and hope that they remembered to put the piece on that truck, I’d just go get it myself today. It’s like a two hour drive. I have a former student who I’m still in touch with and quite fond of who is a sophomore at Purdue, so I’ve got somebody to grab lunch with, too! I’ll go get the piece and have lunch and come back and drop it off at the store and nobody’s the wiser and I’ll lose a chunk of my commission on gas money but whatever. I like the occasional car trip.
Go ahead, check the weather report for today for northern Indiana. Because holy Christ, why did I do that stupid thing I did. I have never seen fog in my life like the Lovecraftean, Ravenloft-esque insanity that I had to drive through today. We’re talking maybe three seconds of visibility in front of the car, less on the heavy spots, for the first two thirds of the trip. I thought about turning back repeatedly, consistently falling prey to the sunk cost fallacy and reasoning that surely I was damn near out of the fog by now and that it would be, would have to be, gone by the time I was on my way home.
Also, once I got to campus, my GPS utterly shit the bed, trying at one point to send me the wrong way down a one-way street, then redirecting me to another street that it could have just left me on the entire time rather than taking me out of its way to nearly die, and then directing me into an alley between two buildings that abruptly turned into a bike path that just-as-abruptly turned into nothing, at which point I called my former student and described where I was as best I could, informing her that I wasn’t moving my car again and she needed to come find me.
(Also: I’m not a complete idiot. The other problem with Purdue’s campus is that there are damn near no signs anywhere. Signs that say things like “No Exit,” which one might put before a point-of-no-return road of some sort.)
Also, Logansport, Indiana is the worst place in the world and I don’t want to hear any different from any of you. I got directed through “town” for some reason and half of the place was utterly deserted and everyone in the rest of it had the Innsmouth look. I deliberately took a different route back to avoid the town.
We lingered over lunch, at any rate. I was the oldest person in the restaurant by at least 18 years and we were both vastly entertained by the literal hush that fell over the room when we walked in, as everyone tried to figure out if I was a sugar daddy or not. When the hell did college students get so Goddamned young?
I was planning on being home by 2:00 and didn’t bother leaving West Lafayette until after 1:00, figuring that the fog would have to have burned off by then.
Nope. Just as bad on the way home as on the way down there, except without the opportunity to turn back. Also, west central Indiana smells terrible. That sounds like I’m just being mean because of IU vs. Purdue regionalisms and I swear I’m not. It smells awful.
Point is, I think I deserve a tip for this one.