Paint me a Picture...

A wet pain sign. It could have been as simple as that.

Really.

It could have.

I was at the Stop and Shop Store in Somerville early this morning with the inention of picking up a few things for lunch for the week. None of the registers were actually being manned by any human beings. The only registers open for business were the self-checkout ones. Normally I use these anyway, but today nothing would scan properly. An employee came over to help, but she could not get the stuff to scan either. I looked at my watch. It was going on 7:15. In the better interest of time, I decided I had to abandon my items and abort the shopping mission. However, I decided I would make a quick stop for coffee at the in-shop Dunkin Donuts. I had no cash, so I stopped at the Citizens Bank ATM and withdrew a couple of dollars.

I ordered my coffee with skim milk, but the guy working at the Dunks had no skim milk. Before I had the chance to tell him that I could just take regular milk, he dashed out of the Dunkins store and ran to the dairy area. The supermarket is huge, so even though he was running at a pretty good pace, I knew I would be in for a good few minutes' wait.

When the guy returned, all apologies for having had to keep me waiting, he proceeded to prepare my order. All of a sudden, I looked down and noticed that the two straps to my backpack (black) were totally covered in something white. I asked the customer in line behind me if I had anything on my jacket. "Yes," she replied, "Whatever it is, is all over your jacket."

Sure enough, upon further investigation into the matter, I realized that the ATM was being painted and there was no wet paint warning sign in the vicinity. Furthermore, the man who was supposed to be painting had begun the job and then taken off, so it was not as if I had the chance to even notice somebody standing nearby painting.

The store manager came over and joined me in confronting the painter.

I was fuming when the painters attitude proved to be totally cavalier and nonchalant. He told me to give him the jacket so he could take it to the mens room and wash it off.

Was he freakin' serious?

I told the store manager that the jacket was a 249.99 EMS Fusion jacket. With this, the painter looks over at me and snaps at me, "That jacket ain't worth no 250. I shop at EMS all the time and that jacket ain't no 250!" He further accused me of "trying to rook an honest business and make a penny."

Honest business?

How about a little professionalism in the way of posting Wet Paint signs?

When he started in about the jacket, I lost it. I said, "Hey, let's not talk about EMS price points; let's talk about your complete lack of professionalism and competence."

I asked him to give me the name of his company, and he balked. Finally the store manager told the guy to just give me the information.

It was just some guy's name. I managed to get the painter to admit that the owner of "the business" was his brother.

We can all see where this is going.

The store manager was helpful and promised to pass my name and number along to the manager of the bank.

At some point, I became so annoyed with the painter that I called him an "unprofessional jerk." Later in the conversation, he called me "sweetheart" or something, which further infuriated me. I told him that he would be well advised to employ no further terms of endearment with me. To this he replied, "Yeah, you called me a jerk. I'll call you whatever I want." I said, "But you are a jerk. I was just stating the facts."

I finally declared that I had to take off. Just before I left, the painter said, "I don't know what you're so upset about. That paint will come off with a little soap and water."

I just looked at him and asked, "Yeah? Is that why you're painting in a fucking protective painter's smock? If you have that much confidence in the facility with which one can remove this paint, why aren't you here painting in an Armani suit?"

This pretty much silenced the jerk and I took off.

Once I got to school, I contacted EMS customer service. The jacket is no longer in production, but the woman I spoke to was awesome and she faxed me an original catalog picture of the jacket, with the item number, complete item description and price...249.99. She then wrote a letter to the painter stating the full retail value of the jacket along with her contact information.



In the meanwhile, the painter's brother called me to find out the details. He asked me to find out about dry cleaning the jacket. I advised him that the label says, "No Dry Clean!" He kept on insisting upon my trying, so I called a few of the more reputable chain cleaners to ask about their policy on no dry clean items. All of them said, hands down, that they follow washing instruction labels to the letter and would not, under any circumstances, dry clean the jacket.

I called the cleaner back to tell him this, and he became combative anew. He said that he wants me to bring the jacket to him so that he can take it to a dry cleaner of his choice.

What??

I told him I will go to a dry cleaner WITH him so that we can have the jacket assessed TOGETHER.

He was such an asshole. The guy was saying that it is "his policy" to have me try to clean it, then if I'm unsuccessful, I have to let him try.

Excuse me? His POLICY?

I asked, "Since when am I subject to YOUR policies?"

He stumbled over his words and then said, "Well, it is industry standard."

I then asked him if he could provide me with a web address where I could view painting industry standard policies? Or at the very least, if he could give me a phone number or address of such a governing body.

Of course he couldn't.

I then announced that my policy is that since his negligence and incompetence was directly to blame for the destruction of my personal property (my jacket and backpack), I expect to be fully reimbursed.

He got all bent out of shape and asked, "Who the hell are you to dictate policy?"

To which I replied, "Exactly. You just made my point for me." I reminded him further that I never entered into any negotiations or contract with him and that he had absolutely no right to expect me to comply with his random ass policies.

As the conversation was wrapping up, the jerk said, "Let me give you an analogy."

I cut him off right there, telling him that he did not want to enter into a verbal joust with me.

I'll keep you posted.



I just want to give a shout out to Reesie who planned a fabulous bridal shower for Fwiz. A great time was had by all, and Reesie's organizational and entertaining talents did not go unnoticed or unappreciated!