It appears that it’s been over two months since I’ve posted anything on this floundering blog of mine.
No worries, I’ve still been writing, I promise. No, not the novel that I may write on my deathbed someday, but rather letters. I spent the better part of a day recently writing letters to all of the companies who’ve pissed me off recently. That’s no short list. From Maytag to McDonald’s and everything in between, nobody was spared my lunatic wrath.
Since I have nothing better to share here, I’m going to share my letters to companies with shitty products and or customer service.
The first one for your reading pleasure is to Eastpoint Sports in New Jersey. Their quality products are supposed to bring years and years of fun. Look at these young, white people frolicking and enjoying their ping pong table below. That’s the exact table I was supposed to be playing ping pong on!
Look how happy they are! This could have been us, but our ping pong table never made it past being an eye sore on the basement floor in twelve thousand pieces.
Below is my letter to the company explaining my ordeal. They’ve still not responded, so they’re getting a follow up letter here soon. Enjoy!
Dear Eastpoint Sports:
So the wife and I purchased a fairly expensive EPS 3500 ping pong table from Walmart.com, in the hopes that it would be a nice Christmas gift for the kids, since that’s what the older two kids wanted. Walmart.com was probably our first mistake, right?
We were pleased that it arrived at our local Walmart in enough time for me to assemble it in time for Christmas.
After borrowing a truck and hauling this nearly180 pound sonofabitchin’ box into my basement, I began to put it together. All was going well until I got all the way to step one and noticed that the brackets weren’t all the same size as the instructions suggested they needed to be. I figured I could make it work, so I tried to assemble the table using what I was given.
My progress stalled at step 6 wherein a leg from the table is supposed to fit into a bracket, rather neatly, apparently, if the photos are any indication. While I had a couple of different brackets, the legs I had didn’t fit neatly into any of them. I called and spoke to customer service and they said they’d send me new brackets. It was going to take 7-10 days.
This was aggravating because it meant the table would not be assembled until not only after Christmas, but after the new year when the kids would already be back in school from their break.
Whatever, the kids were still excited to see the table on the ground waiting to be assembled on Christmas morning, so it wasn’t a total loss.
We got the new brackets and I was excited to see they all matched this time. Unfortunately, they were all the same size as a bracket we already had, so the legs didn’t fit into any of them, of course.
Stymied and increasingly pissed off, I noticed on your website that the dimension of the legs on your table didn’t match the dimension of the legs I had received in my box. See, your dimensions indicate that the legs I need are 33 inches from from one leg to the other.
The legs I got, however, were not 33 inches apart. See?
Aha, I thought! The legs were the problem! As you can see from the attached photos, the distance between the inner leg posts (according to your own dimensions) is supposed to be 33 inches, and the distance between the legs I had received was closer to 21-22 inches. I called customer service again and spoke with a very condescending and rude Blake person, who was having trouble understanding my explanation of the difference between 21 inches and 33 inches. There is apparently a language barrier between my midwestern Missouri English and the Snookiesque English spoken in New Jersey or wherever you people are. I digress, because in spite of his attitude, he agreed to ship me proper legs so we could all move on with our lives.
The legs arrived in a proper amount of time, and I knew they had arrived when they did, because when my daughter got home from school, she called me immediately while I was at work to tell me how excited she was that the legs had come and that her table would finally be put together properly.
When I got home from an exhausting shift patrolling the mean streets of my city, I thought a game of ping pong would he relaxing and fun, so I opened the box that the legs arrived in right away, only to be disappointed that there would be no alleviation of my exhaustion or fun to be had on this night. You see, when I opened the box, I was faced with another set of the exact same, non-fitting legs that I’d already gotten in the original packaging.
I called and spoke to a couple more people in customer service. They spoke to managers and warehouse people and I believe a sandwich delivery guy even tried to help at some point, but for whatever reason, nobody could figure out why the legs didn’t fit.
The implication from the fine folks at Eastpoint was that I must be a moron. That had to be the answer. While they didn’t say that explicitly, of course, it was implied.
Knowing that I’m not the handiest fellow in the world, and that perhaps I was just a moron, I had another two people look at the legs, plus, my wife snuck her father in to try as well. If it could be rigged, he could do it.
Twas not I who was the moron this time at all.
So, Eastpoint Sports, it would appear to me that one of the following is happening:
1) there’s a meddlesome employee at UPS or the post office swapping out the proper parts in my deliveries for improper parts just to screw with me,
2) you people are sending out incompatible parts to begin with and UPS is innocent,
3) your dimensions on your very own website are completely wrong or,
4) this has all been a bad dream
As I’ve pinched myself and it hurt, this isn’t a bad dream,but it’s been a very bad experience. I’m not saying your company ruined Christmas for our kids, because they’re good kids and a gift that never materialized doesn’t bother them in such a way.
It did bother me though, because I had to drag that 180 pound bastard of a table back upstairs, repack it, and have it hauled back to wherever it’s being hauled to. You owe me $147 in duct tape!
The waste of time and energy that went into this gift has been exhausting and it’s my hope that your company will do something to make it right.
I’m still baffled as to why this couldn’t be worked out, so if you figure it out, please let me know. I’m REALLY curious to get your answer as to why this is my fault.
Also, we’re still in the market for a ping pong table.