The pants-ordering saga

AKD requested a certain kind of pants--not necessarily a specific brand, but a certain style, cut, and material.  And these are definitely a style of pants that are available...if I'm willing to pay $75 for them.

Keep in mind: underwear, socks, and shoes were the only clothing I bought new for my children until very recently--until AKD started needing clothes from the men's department, in fact.  I'm used to paying no more than $4 for pants for my kids, usually less.

I am not willing to pay $75 for pants that AKD will likely outgrow relatively quickly.  His request was complicated by the fact that AKD is not willing to go shopping with me so he can get exactly what he wants, nor is he willing to try on clothes to make sure they fit.  *Sigh*

I found some pants that I thought fit his specifications at what I thought was a reasonable price.  But they didn't have his size in the store.

I don't like shopping.  I may have mentioned that before.  But I need you to know.  I really, really do not like shopping.  And I had already been on my feet for several hours knocking out multiple errands.  It was Saturday--two Saturdays before Christmas--and all the world was intent on reminding me why I don't shop on weekends, and why I avoid stores from Thanksgiving on through December.  I was done.  So, so done.

But the pants.

So I brought the wrong size pants to the internet order pick-up counter, and asked if the lovely salesperson would order some for me in the correct size.  And there was a stool there.  I was able to sit.  It was kind of like experiencing the kingdom of heaven on earth.  And the salesperson was my angel.  Not only did she order the pants in the right size, but she gave me an additional discount.

I kind of floated out of there.  Except my feet hurt, and my legs were cramping, so it was more like limping.

And then I got home, checked my email, and realized that my angel had ordered the wrong color.

And there was no way for me to cancel the order myself and order the right ones.  So I called Joel at the service center.

Joel was a nice enough fellow, but he was certainly no optimist, and he didn't seem very competent or efficient.  He did seem very impressed by my patience and cheerful attitude, though.  And I gotta tell you, for the very first time in my life, I felt like I was living out the lyric, "and they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, yes they'll know we are Christians by our love..."

I was on the phone with him for 20 minutes before he was able to complete a corrected order.  Twenty.  Minutes.  There was a lot of deep breathing and mental pep-talks and reassuring noises on my part, and a lot of clicking at the keyboard and complaining about how the system was out to get him, on his.  And then I got my email confirmation, and ...

HE HAD ORDERED THE EXACT SAME PANTS IN THE EXACT SAME WRONG COLOR.

Ten minutes later (30 minutes total, if you're keeping track), he read off my new order number for the right pants in the right size and in the right color.  I asked him to confirm that he had canceled the other 2 orders, and he assured me that he had.  And I believed him.  What else could I do?

Until the next morning when I got an email saying that my WRONG PANTS orders, BOTH OF THEM, had shipped!

There was a moment, when I was sitting there on my heavenly stool in the store, rolling my sore neck and stretching my aching back, and my angel of a salesperson seemed to be having difficulty placing my order, when I wondered if it would be easier for me to just go home and place the order myself.  But I shook it off.  I told myself, let this lovely person order the pants for you.  It's easier this way, and you'll know you're getting exactly what you want.  And the sitting.  It was so good.  Ha.

So on Thursday, 3 pairs of pants will be arriving on my doorstep, and I will have to make the trek to the store to return at least 2 of them.  That'll teach me.  No more pants shopping for me.

And now, I'm kind of afraid to hit publish on this post, because I'm pretty sure this ordeal is not over.  Surely there will be additional complications... Oh well.  Here goes...