Chair Delivery

Within an hour of writing my previous post about feeling more confident in my language abilities when speaking outside of my comfort zone, I had a foreigner moment that pushed me to angry tears and a call to the Superhero to see if I could have handled things better.

A few weeks ago, I ordered my first real piece of furniture from a store's website. I decided to order it online and pay for it to be delivered to my home so that I wouldn't have to inconvienence any of my friends to have to lift it from the car to the elevator. As much as I love my kung-fu chiropractor, I don't want to send any of my friends to her because they helped me move a chair that could have been delivered for a small fee of 35 euros.

After a week, I received an email from the store that the chair was ready to be shipped, and that they use a moving company to deliver their goods. I could trace the status of my chair with a particular ID number.

This was a little weird to me, but okay, whatever. I've never had anything delivered from a store before, so what do I know about how it works? The delivery company called me last week and told me that they would deliver it on Wednesday between 2-6pm. I asked if it were possible for Tuesday, since I already had plans on Wednesday at that time. "You don't get to choose when. It'll be there Wednesday between 2-6pm." Alrighty then. (One of my new cultural pet peeves here in France is every time they say, "Madame, you don't have the right to do xyz." The American in me gets all riled up being told I don't have the right. But that's a whole other blog post...)

So I missed my plans for today (they couldn't be changed) and sat here catching up on blogs while waiting for the delivery of my beautiful leather chair. My phone rang at almost 5pm, and the man told me he had a delivery for me. I said, "Come on up, it's the third floor." He interrupted me and asked if I could come downstairs.

I went downstairs and he says, "You paid for a ground floor delivery. Normally, if you want it delivered up the stairs, you have to pay another 50 euros."

I explained that I didn't understand that from the website when I purchased it. It didn't differentiate between a ground floor or higher-up delivery. I paid for a delivery already, I shouldn't have to pay for more.

"Yes, but you paid for a ground floor delivery."

"Well, that's ridiculous. Why would I pay for it to be delivered partially? You can't carry it into the elevator?"

He responded, "It's not heavy."

I looked at him with a look of incredulity, and exclaimed, "I'm a GIRL! I'm not going to carry that chair by myself! I paid for it to be delivered...to my apartment, not to just my building's front step."

His buddy bent over to begin picking up the chair, and they put it into the elevator, then brought it into my living room, and had me sign that it was delivered. I told them thank you, and hurried to get them out of my apartment.

The talkative one then turned to me at the doorway and said, "Madame, we had an arrangement."

"A what?" I asked.

"An arrangement."

"No, we didn't." The quiet one said, "She doesn't understand man. Let's go." (I probably should have shut up then.)

"No, no, I understand. I didn't understand downstairs nor did I agree to an arrangement. I told you, I already paid for a delivery. I don't think I should pay more for you to have put it the elevator and then carried it out of the elevator. That's ridiculous."

At this point, I felt very uncomfortable, as a single female with a guy I am perceiving to be sneaky, in my home. I wanted him to leave, and in the stress of the moment, decided that just paying him the 50 euros he wanted was the easiest way to do so. I couldn't think fast enough to demand a number to call, or even a receipt for the 50 euros. I just wanted him gone, and 50 bucks would do that. So I paid him 50 euros, shut (and locked) my door...

...and realized that I probably was just scammed.

About 10 minutes later, my phone rang. It was the guy! He'd accidently called me back, but since I had him on the phone, I asked if he could come back and give me a receipt.

"Madame, I gave you the receipt from the store."

"No, I want one for the 50 euros I gave to you."

"Madame, I can't give you a receipt for that...it was an arrangement. Between you and me."

Then I got mad. "An arrangement I didn't agree to! You...(and at a loss for the word for "scammed," "tricked," "duped,")...you lied to me!"

Well then he got mad. He began yelling at me into the phone that he was not a liar, that he never lied to me, that he was a worker doing his job, and he had not lied to me.

Still not able to find the word, I said, "You're right. You didn't lie...you stole from me!" Dagnabit that I couldn't find the word for "took advantage of" right at that moment.

Seeing that I was quickly loosing my temper and not reflecting Christ at all, I said goodbye and hung up the phone. I did a quick google translate, found the words I needed, and sent him a text, where I apologized for calling him a liar. I explained that it was the only word I could find at that moment. And that I felt he had scammed me, since I didn't understand nor agree to "an arrangement." Well played, mister, for taking advantage of a foreigner. He tried calling me back five times, to which I never answered. (Men round these parts always need to have the final word in a fight, and I wasn't going to argue with him anymore. Seeing how I wasn't going to get my money or a receipt, there was no need to talk to him again.)

I called the Superhero (who's been living in France forever), and recounted the whole story. Did I do right to pay him? What should I have done? What would you have done? Did I get taken advantage of? Besides losing my temper over the phone, how could I have handled this one better?

The Superhero said that seeing as I was a single female home alone with two strange men in my apartment, I did the right thing to just pay them the money. I expressed my frustration at being a foreigner and not fully understanding what was going on. He said, "bettercountry...your French is good enough that I am fully confident that you understood what he said to you. He took advantage of you, as a female, yes; as a foreigner, maybe; but it was not a language miscommunication. As a man, I would have handled it differently because men can do that. You did what you felt most comfortable doing at that moment, and it was the right thing." Well. That made me feel a little better.

When it's all said and done, I have my lovely leather chair, and that guy got blessed with an extra 50 euros at Christmas time.

Yes, it's facing away from the TV. I wanted a piece of furniture to face the couch, so that when I'm just sitting and visiting with friends, the living room has a triangle-of-conversation sitting places. It's light enough to easily pick up and turn to face the TV when a bunch of people are over to watch a movie.

But not light enough that I should have had to put it in/out of the elevator after having paid a delivery fee.