My dining room fiasco might-perhaps-with-no-more-misfortune soon be coming to a close. I called Leon's to inquire where in Zeus's butthole my table was sitting.
I called, explained the situation, and asked the question (in less profane words). The response was unexpected, but typical. "It's in the Weston warehouse. Is the 7th a good day for delivery?"
I was stunned. My next question was obvious. "Why didn't anyone call me to tell me it was available?"
The response was also predictable. "Umm... I don't know."
I asked for a supervisor. "Sorry, she's already gone home."
Wonderful.
The next morning I called again and asked for a supervisor in the service department. I was put on hold for a few minutes. Someone then came on line, and I prepped for an argument. "Sorry, who is it you're on hold for?"
Oh, for cryin' out... I held for a few minutes more before getting in touch with someone in a supervisorish position. The conversation itself was not too entertaining (perhaps it would be if played with "Yellow Submarine", but who can afford it?), but highlights from the supervisor included a guess that the table had just arrived the day I called - to which I scoffed as bull - and at one point having the gall to suggest the service I received was quality - to which I responded by colourfully retelling the "Supervisor Brian" story.
In the end, I pressed for compensation, but they refused to give a reduction; all they would offer is a certificate for discount on a future purchase. My response to that: "Leon's puts me through a torturous experience and the only compensation you'll offer is to make me spend more money there?" My ass.
So, I'm through. I'm never shopping at Leon's again. They have officially received my "Ass of Disapproval".
The Ass of Disapproval seal is composed of 30% iron, 40% zinc, 40% titanium, and 40% dolomite. Like Bender's, this ass is a shiny metal one. So that they may bite it.
