Home Depot, the Delivery Disaster Pros

Fiascos, Home and Renovation, Mobility, Personal, Psychology

“How doers get less done.”

If you’ll pardon me, I have to get this off my chest. I’ll feel better.

I’d planned the new bathroom for months. I carefully chose the shower curtain, the floor planks, the mirror, the towels, the rug, the sconces, the art, the 36×60 deep-soak tub, the old-timey shower/tap … and the tile.

Not my best drawing (and it makes the bathroom look a little bigger than it is) but this is what was planned.

The old-timey shower kit arrived quickly and easily from Amazon. The special deep-soak plumbing stuff I needed arrived quickly via UPS. The tub arrives later today. Know what else arrived today? Eight very heavy cases of the wrong tile.

I ordered the brown/blue/green you see above. I got eight cases of white marble with grey veins.

No problem, I think. I’ll call them, and surely they’ll swap it. Nope.

Home Depot (of course) does not do their own large deliveries (from the local store). It’s farmed out to a logistics company.

Long story short, I’m told by three different reps (none of whom work for Home Depot) that all they can do is process a return, give me my money back, and come pick it up. Three/four days+. Then I have to place a new order for the correct tile. Again. Which will take a week-ish for delivery.

But, I don’t want my money back. I want the correct tile. Because otherwise, I’m going to have a contractor in here with nothing to install.

Anyhow. Yes, it got to the point where I was yelling. Most of you know me well — It’s very, very difficult to get me to angrily holler at you.

So. I’ve decided I’m going with the mistake marble-looking tile. I don’t hate it, it’s not ugly, it doesn’t clash, and it’ll reflect light in a dim bathroom. Plenty of people would happily choose it on purpose. It’ll look something like this, color-wise. It’ll be okay with the blue & green room. It’s fine.

As my psychiatrist tells me — manage your aggravation and pick your battles according to what’s worth it and what’s not. It’s nice tile, it’s just not what I chose.

This wouldn’t smart quite so much if this weren’t the third time we’d ordered from Home Depot (actually, their logistics company) over about a year and had the wrong thing delivered.

So, Home Depot — never again.

Now, the mental part.

I realize that if this were five years ago, I would have put the eight cases of tile in the back of the SUV, driven them to the store, pitched a stinky fit, and drove home with the correct tile. I’m no longer capable of doing that. I couldn’t even lift a single box. So that’s about coming to terms with what you can no longer do. Plus, this sort of thing pushes my buttons, and I spout things like, “I wish I had a job or ran a company where I could constantly screw up and then tell people, ‘So, what?'”

But, pick your battles. Be the overly-reasonable bigger person when it’s beneficial to you. Be grateful that I’m in a position to pay for a bathroom redo. I’m learnin’.

I hope there are some helpful thoughts in here along with my frustration. And yes, I’m tagging the hell out of Home Depot and the logistics company. Right @homedepot? Ha!

London January 2025 #7

London, Mobility, Travel

Today is Dishpan Day — All the photos that were sitting left over from yesterday and before! I’ll caption each so we know what we’re looking at.

It Evens Out

Getting to and settled in the airport hotel was a bit of a chore, but then, that’s why I loathe Heathrow. Some people were great, a few were awful. I used my Gett app to call a black taxi, and it had arrived in the time it took me to grab my suitcase and walk out the front door. My Cabbie was awesome, and we had a great conversation about the US and UK on the way to my train at Paddington. Heathrow Express took me to the airport in 15 minutes, where driving would’ve taken over an hour.

It’s a perfectly nice airport, but it’s gigantic. It reminds me of Boston Logan, except more sprawling and way far from the actual city you’re visiting. I might have to switch airlines to Nordic, who fly into Gatwick. I wonder if they have a rewards card. Or I’ll just start going to the tropics, since JetBlue flies to multiple destinations from Westchester Airport.

I left the first hotel at 11, got to Paddington about 12, grabbed a sandwich, got to Heathrow about 1 o’clock, and the airport hotel about 230. The disability helper dudes at Heathrow were absolutely wonderful. Still took forever, but they were so helpful!

There was a couple with six kids and lots of gigantic luggage on the shuttle bus. Seriously — the amount of luggage was truly shocking.

They were sitting in all of the labeled and marked disabled seats (with open seats up the two steps behind them), and had all their baggage stacked in a monumental teetering tower in the other flip-down wheelchair/disabled row. Did they move or offer? Of course they didn’t. They watched me stand with a cane and a rolling suitcase, falling twice (sideways) against the luggage rack while the bus humped and bumped and tilted speedily coursed around the airport ramps.

Their luggage was stacked in the area directly in front of my foot.

I could’ve enforced it, but it was a short trip and I couldn’t be bothered. By the time I got the driver involved and they’d moved, it would’ve been almost over anyway. You wanna be the asshole? Fine with me. A girl behind them apologized to me on their behalf after they got off.

All this aside, a nice surprise was waiting at the end of the journey! I don’t know whether it’s because I’m a member of their hotel club or whether I’m nice and I have a stick. Whichever, I was upgraded to an executive room, which is very comfortable. Very nice hotel too — excellent room service, restaurant, Starbucks, and pizza place inside the lobby, very friendly staff, everyone super helpful. I’m impressed.

I got here later than I would have liked, but check in being 2 PM, I would’ve paid more to arrive earlier anyway. It will be a nice spa day very much including room service and that amazing looking shower.

It is so nice to know I will have a comfortable night and then get on a shuttle that will drop me at my airport terminal in 10 minutes time.

*IHG Rewards? A good attitude, plus the cane?*

Here come the random photos!

Shakespeare’s Globe, in its current position.

*The Globe* interior, via AboutBritain.com

My 14GG John Collett curiously bought the land that The Globe was put on top of at exactly the time Burbage and Shakespeare lost their lease in Smithfield and were looking to move. Plus, the families knew each other.

Why on earth would prosperous wool merchant John (who had probably never even been to London) suddenly buy London land perfect for a theater? It would be like a successful Kansas farmer who’d never left his hometown suddenly buying a lot in 1870s New York City to build a telegraph office. It’s weird.

Anyhow, they took down the old Playhouse, salvaged the expensive beams and anything else of value, and barged it all over to the new site. (They did not do it overnight, despite the legend. That’s silly. It took a few months.)

Big Ben Trapped! (Actually, big Ben is the name of the bell. Not the tower.)

From the airport, Good night to you too! Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow for a few final thoughts about the trip in general.

London January 2025 #6

Fiascos, Health, London, Mobility, Personal, Travel, UK

It was Westminster Abbey day!

Hooo … am I tired! Tomorrow I’m off to the airport hotel, which sounds dreary, but it will be very nice. It’s supposed to be a quite decent hotel, and it’s attached directly to the airport. This way, I’m already there for my flight the next day, no rushing, no public transportation issues, another spa day.

A foggy, wet day; but no actual rain. Just a light wetting-you mist. Well, ya know. Fog.

“A foggy day in London Town
Had me low and had me down
I viewed the morning with alarm
The British Museum had lost its charm.”

A bit of a rant today concerning the visit. It’s an entertaining and surprising rant, but if you’d like to skip it, just scroll down to the photos.

Lots of walking and standing today, and I’d have to say unfortunately, Westminster Abbey does disabilities very poorly. I went 15 minutes before opening, and after I’d walked around the large yard to get to the main entrance line. The employee out front sort of talked in circles when I asked whether there was a disabled entrance. I was tired of asking about it (and I was already there), so I waited in the line with the normals. They opened at 9:30 on the mark, but all the folks that worked there already seemed very much “on guard.”

When I didn’t want a free tour headset, the person-wearing-a-robe kept going on and on about it. After two or three go-rounds, her last sentence to me was, “But why don’t you have an audio guide?” Um, hello? I guess they don’t like people to refuse headsets. Maybe we try to talk to them too much otherwise. That impression was further confirmed as the day progressed.

Of all of the places I’ve visited in the past week, The Abbey staff has been the least friendly/helpful by far. And I’m not even very needy or demanding. The Docklands Museum and Southwark Cathedral absolutely both destroy Westminster Abbey in this respect. (I should mention, I had a very nice conversation about Jenny Lind with the lovely young headset-collector woman in Poets’ Corner.)

Later, after saying the same thing three or four times to different docents before they “got” what I was talking about, I realized they’re programmed to parrot this and that, and prefer not to be bothered; that I couldn’t possibly have anything useful or interesting to mention. In one instance, I mentioned a fact about some burials in the Stuart aisle of the Lady Chapel. She disagreed. I told her she should really read her very own Dean Stanley’s book … he documented all the royal burials in the mid-1800s.

At one point, I really needed to sit down (or fall down) for a while. I explained to a verger/docent/person. She told me I had to walk all the way around to get the 24 inches forward to where she was standing next to the chairs, rather than just picking up the rope hook for literally two or three seconds.

I was briefly in the vicinity of one absolutely hysterical docent — every time you took a step towards him, he either exaggeratedly turned his head the other way or walked to another corner. (For real. I tried it a few times to make sure. LOL)

This kind of crap filters down through the layers, and of course, as they’ll often remind you, this is first and foremost, a place of worship. As a career churchy myself, to say I was less-than-impressed is a gross understatement. And I’m looking at you, Dean Hoyle.

That’s plenty of complaining for today! Let’s look at some awesome pictures! I took dozens and dozens, so we’ll just do the highlights here.

I guess I can now say that I was once in the quire at Westminster Abbey

Chaucer’s tomb. Interestingly, he was not interred here as a great poet, but due to his job as an upper-level government functionary.

QEI — The lady, the myth, the legend. (She’s not in the box. She’s stacked in the crypt underneath below the floor, with her sister Queen Mary. Elizabeth is on top. Poetic justice.

Remarkably preserved medieval paintings!

I’m a bit of a scholar on the subject, I’ve done my own research, I’ve read Dean Stanley’s book(s) at least two or three times, and I’ve been to the Abbey in person several times, this being my last.

Yes, sure, I felt a little unwelcome. Big deal. However, combined with feeling physically uncomfortable without any way of helping myself, I don’t need to return. There was an Evensong later in the day I’d considered, but I hopped on the boat for an afternoon cruise instead.

One of the crew came over to me (a few of them know me by now) to mention that a more comfortable window seat had just opened up on the starboard side, and I realized that I felt very much more welcome on the Uber Boat than inside Westminster Abbey.

Eh. Can’t win ’em all.

London January 2025 #5

London, Mobility, Theatre, Travel, UK

It’s Spa Day … ahhhh.

It was a big walking day yesterday, and I was out from around 10 to 4. That’s a very big day for me, and an even bigger day for my nervy feet.

Ergo, I turned my alarm off, decided I could sleep as late as I liked, and decided the single event of the day would be eating at The Anchor, which is directly downstairs.

Maybe I’ll sit by the river a bit.

The Tate Modern (a notable contemporary art museum) is less than a five minute walk; but unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be less interested. It’s interesting that it’s built in a former power plant, but for me, it ends there.

(That chunk in the front is the new part.)

I stayed in bed until 11 AM, and then ran myself a hot bath in the big bathtub. Wonderful!

The Anchor is an Elizabethan Era tavern and inn. Lotso famous people did lotso famous things there. It’s the sole survivor of the riverside inns that existed in Shakespeare’s day, when this area was the heart of theatreland. It was frequented by Shakespeare, Hemings, Burbage, surely almost all the actors from the Globe, the Swan and the Rose, and probably my 14th great grandfather.

All three theaters were literally within shouting distance of the tavern. It’s where Samuel Pepys (one of the greatest diarists of his own or any other era) observed the Great Fire of London in 1666. He took a quick boat ride across the river to “a little alehouse on bankside … and there watched the fire grow.”

Artist *Lieve Verschier*, via *The Museum of Budapest*

After the area faded from popularity as the theatrical center, it became very handy for smugglers and pirates. During the 19th century, a large beam fell and was replaced, revealing hidden rooms, fairly obviously created as hiding places for stolen goods.

I’m now back after an early dinner at The Anchor and a run by the café to grab an afternoon latte. Dinner was fine.

Don’t get me wrong, it was beautifully prepared and very nicely done, but I really wanted shepherds or cottage pie, and they didn’t have that. Which struck me as a bit weird for a major tourist pub. I had a steak and ale pie with mash. It was excellently prepared, but I wasn’t crazy about it. I ate half of it, and brought the rest back to the room. Might eat it, might not. I stole a fork on purpose. I put it in my takeout container. I’ll give it back tomorrow. That’s what they get for not having shepherds pie.

My leg and feet feel pretty good for this time of day. Awesome, since tomorrow will be a big walking day — I’ve already got entry tickets to Westminster Abbey and the additional exhibition with the centuries-old funeral effigies of the monarchs.

If anyone finds themself planning a London visit, I very much recommend this hotel if you’re into moderates. (Few amenities, rooms only cleaned if you ask, that sort of thing.) The staff is especially lovely — they got me ice. That’s a big deal. Trying to find ice in a London hotel is like trying to find a Yorkshire pudding in an American one. They took me back into the little restaurant kitchen, and sent me off with three glasses of big ice cubes from the freezer. Yay, ice!

Amusing Misadventure — I didn’t wear a headband today since it was warmer, and two people yesterday and one the day before said to me, “I have a wig/hat just like that.” This irritated me extremely. I’ve washed my hair vigorously twice, and it’s still pretty bright, so I haven’t purpled it yet. Maybe I won’t have to.

Anchor No-Headband Selfie! It’s my own hair!

London January 2025 #4

London, Mobility, Travel, UK

Today was Docklands Day!

I took a favorite boat ride, and visited a museum that I’ve wanted to see for quite a while — the Museum of London Docklands. Afterwards, I rode the boat a bit further and stopped off at Westminster for a little while. Thought I might be able to get a few decent photos.

Strangely enough, Uber (as in, the car service) runs the river taxis. They used to be called the Thames Clippers. Because most of the sights are within shouting distance of The Thames, I pretty much take these things all over the place up and down the river, rather than using the tube or buses. They’re very comfortable.

It’s about a 30 minute ride to Canary Wharf, the boat docking twice to pick up and drop off people along the way. Much more pleasant than a city bus, nicely heated, a snack bar, and the view is certainly nice. (Plus, I don’t have to climb and/or descend a teeny-tiny steep staircase on a bumpy, moving city bus.)

Canary Wharf/Docklands is only about 30 years old, all told. The entire area was originally warehouses, docks, and maritime businesses back in the age when London was the largest port in the world. Now, a brand new city sits where those docks and warehouses were. It’s all like, HSBC, Barclays, Santander, Rupert Murdoch’s stuff, blah blah. It strikes me as a very new, spotless version of Midtown Manhattan, minus the congestion and pee smell.

The museo was about a ten minute walk from the wharf, so that wasn’t too bad. The museum was especially prepared for people with mobility challenges.

Generous elevators, little chairs that convert to canes you can carry around, great signage, very helpful docents … really very well done. I noticed more than one group made up of carers and folks with serious mobility issues. But then, London does disabled access very well.

It’s mostly dioramas and period recreations, with exhibits of artifacts alongside each area. The aim is for us to see and feel what it was like in the docklands back in their docklandical heyday. They do a great job, so I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

I could totally live in that cottage in the center photo. In fact, if I squint a little, I do. It looks exactly like our house, lathe and all. (I’m not kidding.) I wonder whose fault that is!

I sat down on benches and chairs aplenty, but it was still a big walking day. After a sausage roll and a can of (Original) Coke, I was ready to get back to the boat — bye, bye Docklands!

I was feeling a bit better after sitting on the comfortable boat for a while. Exactly what I needed, especially after the walk back to the pier. My leg nerve thing was actually not bothering me. That shows up as an overtired sort of thing. Today was more of a tingly, numb feet thing. That’s what happens when I’ve been walking and standing a great deal.

After the 30 minute ride back, I decided to stay on the boat another few stops and then turn back around to Bankside. It seemed like a good time of day for some photos of Westminster. I’m visiting Westminster Cathedral later in the week, but I’ll be right in the middle of where it’s rammed with people. I got a few nice shots today (although that big, stupid wheel shows up behind everything).

After hopping the other-way boat back home to Bankside, I went a few blocks over to the drugstore to get some purple hair color. (Two or three aggressive washes takes the brightness out quite a bit, so I decided to have a much needed, happy, aggressive wash tonight; and purple it up tomorrow morning.) Swung by to see the friendly folks at the Red Bus Shop to grab some evening provisions, and then I got my favorite burger and fries to take-out. My tingly feet told me that they wanted to eat in the hotel room, rather than landing me on my face and imprinting souvenir cobblestones on my forehead.

Whew! That had to have been a good few miles today. However, I’m back in by 5 o’clock and looking forward to a hot bath, some British television, and a great deal of rest.

See you tomorrow!

Sit Still Phill

Incidents involving antiquity, travel, renovation, and music.

Mobility