Defective Tree or MS Me?
The Date- 12/8/18
The Mission- Get my damn apartment decorated for Christmas so that I can get into the damn holiday spirit!
It was later in the season than I like to be decorated. I’m not a before or day after turkey day decorator, but don’t like too to wait too long either. I had just been busy. Really, is anyone ever not busy?
So I felt the pressure and this particular day I vowed all my decorations were going up. I would not go to bed that night unless I was completely surrounded by festive holiday décor.
It was already 2 PM and I hadn’t even showered yet. Don’t ask me where the morning went- it just disappeared somewhere between waking up, say around 10:30, and the time suck that mysteriously arrives when I turn on my computer.
I had changed from pjs into comfy clothes so there was that accomplishment at least.
Anyway, I started with the biggie- setting up the new artificial, pre-lit tree I had bought back in September. I was a little stressed about this because I’m not known for being handy, even before my brain was attacked by multiple sclerosis which has killed most of my problem solving skills.
So I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the box and discovered that this tree was the exact same model I’d had for years before. No problem.
Except it was.
Specifically, I couldn’t figure out how to attach the top part to the bottom part. Assuming it was me, as it usually is, I fought with it for over 30 mins. Twisting, forcing, throwing, cursing and yelling to make the tree come together.
It was then that I decided the directions might help. Another 20 mins ensued of twisting, forcing, throwing, cursing and yelling.
Finally, I called the toll free number on the instructional booklet and got a very nice representative on the phone. After I explained the problem, she informed that it wasn’t me, it was my tree. The company had put the wrong top in the box with the right bottom. In short, my tree was defective.
Defective- flawed, shoddy, imperfect, inoperative, unsound, damaged. All adjectives that defined my new tree.
Interestingly, adjectives that often define me as well. Still, what a relief to know that this time it wasn’t a defective me but a defective tree.
Then the representative, in a very pleasant voice filled with lots of holiday cheer, told me not to worry, their trees are all under warranty.
What a relief!
“We’ll send you another top and your problems will be solved. It takes a while and you won’t get it until January but that’s ok as you’ll have it for next year!!!”
Is it me again? Am I the defective one for thinking that was a really defective solution to my problem that I vowed would be addressed by bedtime, whenever that bedtime might be?
I decided to trust my gut and asked for my money back. But no, their warranty only covered replacement of defective tops when you don’t need them. I hung up. Then I threw the whole thing back in the box and decided to return it, top and bottom, to Walmart.
This is a bigger deal than you might think. The closest Walmart is 50 minutes away. No, I’m not lying about that. 50 minutes! I live in coastal boonies.
We Cape Codders sacrifice greatly for the privilege of living in a place that has ten times more sharks than department stores.
But this was going to be resolved today, dammit!!
I made the drive and though I didn’t still have the receipt, Walmart kindly refunded my money.
“I don’t really need the money,” I told them. “I need a tree. I could exchange it. I would just have to open the box to make sure the parts fit together.”
“Oh we can’t do that,“ the Walmart clerk explained. “If we did that there could be total Christmas chaos everywhere!”
Again- defective me? It didn’t make sense, but what did I know? It seems the only thing I could do was take my refund, buy a new tree, take it out to my car, open it there, and return it if it was the same problem. Then I could buy another one, take it out to my car and repeat until I had an adequate, perfect, sufficient, flawless, unbroken tree.
That seemed too much to ask.
I don’t think I’ll ever be a flawless or perfect, how could I expect my tree to be? But I didn’t think it was too much to ask that my tree at least be whole, top and bottom and standing as strong as possible.
I took my Walmart cash refund and ran. Or drove, I should say. I drove the 50 minutes home stopping only at a grocery store where I picked up a small, imperfect, live table top Charlie Brown tree.
Like me, it’s is a little bit defective. But it’s still standing. And breathing. And its parts are still together.
I brought it home and did complete my decorating mission. I think it was about 11 when it was finally done. BUT, the next morning, I was happy to wake up decorated. Defective maybe, but ready for Christmas.
Happy Holidays my friends!! Wishing you and your families a very happy and healthy New Year, whether you may be defective or not.
