Incredible Flying Stove

I have one of those embarrassing "Oh please, God, do we have to tell this story" stories. Everyone has one and I went through a large percentage of my adult life without one. Until a few years ago. Someone mentioned the other day that I should post this story on the blog as it's *so funny*

For a wedding anniversary, my brother-in-law bought his wife a stove. A really nice ceramic cooktop stove. I, being the nice person that I am, offered to pick it up for them.

Now, I don't like Sears. I never have liked Sears. They don't have an on-site warehouse and it's always in some far-off weird place. This was no exception.

After work, I went to the warehouse to get said stove. It's in an industrial park in an unpopulated area so I'm not happy about it. It's November, so it's dark. I am regretting offereing to get the stupid stove at this point.

The dude working in the warehouse was literally on top of boxes nearly to the ceiling. (oh, twenty feet up) Because...and this is a quote: "It's warmer up there." AND he seems irritated that I'm there. Apparently I interrupted him watching his "stories" or something.

He goes to get the stove, which is apparently located somewhere back in the bat cave, judging from the amount of time it took him to get it. While I am waiting, I'm reading all the signs posted. Some are for customers, some are not. This comes in handy later.

The dude loads it in my truck, tucking it upright against the cab. He tells me that it can't be laid down, I don't remember why now. I asked him if it needed to be strapped down as I was traveling a distance ON THE FREEWAY. He scoffed at me and said no as if I am an idiot. I just *Love* being treated like a girl. *Love it*

So, off I go. I returned to my office, taking regular streets and even going uphill. Indeed, the stove did not move. I'm golden. Or so I thought.

I leave my office and get on the freeway. Again, it's November in the Northwest so it's dark and damp. (not raining though) As I get up to speed, a semi whooshes by in the fast lane. My truck shakes, un-naturally I might add, and I can suddenly see out my rear window. Just in time to see a box hit the ground and a car swerve.

My mind has blanked what happened shortly thereafter but I'm positive there was a LOT of cursing. I know that I pulled over, jumped out, and somehow dragged the stove to the side of the road without dying. This is a miracle unto its self.

But now, having exhausted my super-human powers, I am unable to return the stove to the back of the truck. I was just getting ready to leave it there when passers-by from the opposite side of the freeway stopped behind me. They said that they saw what happened and did one of those "Did you just see what I just saw?" things. They swung off the freeway, back onto the southbound lanes and stopped. God Bless Them. (a couple, by the way and not from here. That's all I know about them. )

They tucked the stove, now laying down, into the bed of the truck (screw you, mr. Sears Warehouse Man) and sent me on my way.

By now, what has happened is sinking in. The adrenaline is fading and the dread is increasing.

Also, this is the period of time when I didn't have a cell phone. *great* So I pulled off at the next exit and risked catching tuberculosis by using a pay phone to call MG.

I told him what happened: the stove fell out of the truck. He thought that I was kidding. *ouch* No, I explained, it fell out and someone helped put it back in and now I'm coming home. There was a little pause in the conversation and MG asked "How did it fall out?"

Probably a reasonable question. However, this question must have caused a little psychosis on my behalf. My response?
"It was in the truck and THEN it fucking WASN'T!"

Needless to say, the conversation ended shortly thereafter.

Later, I realized that the MG had the more difficult job: breaking the news to his brother that I had lost the stove.

I finally get home and we thrust the stove into the shop and dare not look at it further.

In a show of forgiveness, the borhter-in-law feeds me dinner. After dinner, I called Sears and ask for the manager. Of course, as it's evening now, the manager is not there but I could speak to ...well, we'll call him Steve. (because all Steve's are assholes, just ask me)

Steve dares to mock me about strapping it down. Enter another psychotic break.

I succinctly told him about their warehouseman who mocked me for asking about strapping it down. "Sears does not take responsibility for any item after it has been loaded onto the customer's vehicle. There is a sign posted at the warehouse." was his response.

Hear that cracking sound? That's my head exploding.

"I realize that." she says in a strangely calm voice " I saw the sign and it *actually* said that Sears employees are not responsible for providing rope, straps, or any sort of tie-downs to the customers. That is NOT the SAME as telling me it would be FINE and I could transport it without them."

I guess when I copped an attitude, it gave him an attitude and we were done from that point forward. Go figure.

I waited until the morning and called the *real* manager. SHE was very nice. Although she too tried the "Sears is not responsible" tact and it didn't work for her either. I proceeded to quote every single sign that was posted on the walls. Including the one that stated that Rick was to remember to turn down the heat before he left. I'm assuming that Rick is the idiot on top of all the boxes. Apparently, he's a lizard.

Once I finished my quotation of all the signs and played the "I'm a girl, how am I supposed to know" card, she relented. They sold the Brother in law another stove at 50% cost. I thought that was a pretty screaming deal. Good on Sears.

I offered to pay for it but the b-in-law wouldn't allow me. That's the very definition of forgiveness right there, ladies and gentlemen.

And I DID NOT go pick up the second stove.

And I DID receive tie-down straps one month later for my birthday. Funny, funny man.

Epilogue:

So, the crashed stove sat neglected and ignored in b-i-l's shop until Thanksgiving, about two weeks later. On a whim, MG and b-i-l plugged it in and checked it out. Thinking "Wouldn't it be wild if it worked?"

IT WORKED. Granted, it was cosmetically messed up but it worked. The ceramic top was intact, the oven worked. It was a Thanksgiving Miracle.

AND then, the b-i-l GAVE it to me. How's that for forgiveness? Throw a $800 stove off a truck into the middle of the freeway and get it for free.

It's now residing in my niece's house as we got a brand-new stove with our brand-new house. It's been a busy little stove.

Moral of the story: TIE EVERYTHING DOWN.

And use caution if you shop at Sears. (:-D