Wednesday, February 10, 2016

I'm having one of my sick headaches, again! Or, So much for the new dishwasher

Today was not a good day for Cookie.

First of all, the grit who was supposed to install the dishwasher today called at 6:30am and said he would be there at 7am to do the install and that I was to have the kitchen sink cupboard cleaned out.

When he got here he had a fit about the dishwasher hookup because unlike new build houses, our dishwasher has its own water supply and drain system.  Well, that was a problem.  I, channel Tim Gunn and told him to make it work.  Well that set him off because it was different and he's a evidently not a man who can go off script.

But I told him to get it done, and removes the old dishwasher, bitching about it the entire time, bring in the new dishwasher and starts to install it except something isn't right.

It's a Kitchen Aid.

It's got everything on it.

But it's WHITE and Cookie and husband didn't buy a white dishwasher.

So I tell the install and the Grit looks at me and says "Are you sure?"

Am I sure?  Motherfucker of course I am sure.

"Well it says right here this is what it is," says the Grit.

I explain that we bought a Kitchen Aid, stainless steel.

"The warehouse doesn't make mistakes," says the Grit.

Well, someone did something wrong.

Problem is its SEVEN in the morning and the store isn't open.  So the Grit starts to leave and I said, oh no you don't - put the old one back in.

"I'll have to charge you," sayeth the Grit.

"Just try," respondeth Cookie.

So I worked that out with his home office, and they ate the cost because Grit was not to remove anything until I approved the unit.

So I had to go to the store, which opened at 10 to iron this mess out.

And that's when I got to the car to find one tire nearly flat and the windshield wiper on my car broken.   (It wasn't the Grit - I had my eyes on him.)

So I limp the Prius to the mechanic, get my wiper and tires looked at, and the big old screw removed.  And an oil change.  Because I had some time to change.

I get to the store and my salesmen is off for the day and I get Darvon - like the pain medication - and Darvon is fine.  Dark skinned.  Broad shoulders. Bubble butt.  And all charm.

And then Darvon delivers the crushing blow.

"Where is the wrong dishwasher?"

I sent it back, why.

"Well we can't schedule your installation until the wrong dishwasher is returned to the warehouse over the weekend."

Evidently, I was supposed to hold onto the wrong item so they could bring the right item from the warehouse.

"The same warehouse where the bad one is supposed to go?" asks I.

So tomorrow I have to contact Darvon's boss, Durell, and Durell will try and speed this along.

So if you will excuse me, I am going enjoy my sick headache.  I've earned it.


  1. Omg attitude at 7 a.m. What a fiasco. You need a Darvon after all that mess!

  2. Seriously, I might have killed the Grit ... or chained him to my sink and made him my new dishwasher, Kitchen Bitch™.

  3. ay yi yi! the help you get these days sucks big time!

  4. Quelle tragique! Sounds like you could have used a little Darvon, yourself?

  5. Holy crap-- how incompetent can one company get? Everyone's got smart phones, they could check in an instant that they've got the wrong dishwasher and send you out a new one. Yikes.