Letter from my Daughter to: Home Depot
the third in a random series...
Dear Home Depot,
For as long as I can remember -- and I'm almost two, so that's a loooong time -- I have loved shopping at your store. Thank golly god that we have always lived within a 5 minutes drive of one of your mega home supply stores. At least once a week I beg my parents to take me to your store, crying, "Home Depot? Deeeeee-Poh? Deeeeeeeeee-Poh? Pleeeeeeze?" until they drive me there -- there, where I can run freely up and down your wide aisles, hiding my face in the big hanging rag rugs, staring in wonder at the forest of lumber, ten times higher than my self.
I can wistfully recall times spent with Mommy browsing paint chips for the 300 times she re-decorated my room. And Daddy and I, well we enjoy looking at the big guns - lawnmowers, snowblowers, and riding John Deere's we'll never have use for (but a girl can dream, can't she?). And then there were all the hundreds of times we popped in for a lightbulb, or an ant trap, or a battery, or a roll of packing tape.
Anyway, the point is, every time I've needed you, you've been there. Until now.
After the many years of our satisfying retail arrangement, the thousands of dollars spent, and the projects we've completed around the house, we decided to take the next step in our relationship -- hiring the Home Depot to install a new floor in our kitchen.
It took Mommy 5 months to convince Daddy that we could afford to replace the disgusting circa 1940 linoleum floor in our kitchen. And when we finally sold our old house, and were back to one mortgage again, Daddy gave his consent. Together and triumphant we made a family field trip to Home Depot and spent hours picking out the coolest slate-looking laminate. For $50, a nice man came out to our house a few days later and measured the kitchen. He also checked the floor to take a moisture reading -- because, as we learned, moisture is the enemy of laminate flooring. After a quick check, we had the all clear to order our floor. We did have to listen to that guy Pete talk for 2 hours about the installation process, but he did give us a 20% discount on the special order. We were feeling great, paid for everything and scheduled our installation for after the new year.
Last week your flooring subcontractor came out to install the floor. As he was starting to tear up the linoleum he remarked that he should have the whole room done in one day instead of two. We were wicked psych-ed. But an hour later, as more of the linoleum came up, he discovered a huge moisture problem under the floor. Unable to install the laminate, we had him rip up the rest of the hold floor (he was almost done anyway).
Now we're left with a room that looks more like an archaeological dig than a kitchen. All this because your measuring man did not report a moisture problem when he came out. And of course you have agreed to refund the installation labor, and some of the other ten hundred nickel and dime line items on the invoice (I mean, does it really cost $150 to slide the refrigerator out of the way as you work?), you will not allow us to return the floor unless we pay a 15% restocking fee. Of course the cost of the floor is where you were making your money anyway, so why would you let us out of that easily? Even if it was your mistake, and your fault now that I can no longer walk in our kitchen for a juice box and some goldfish unless I wear shoes to prevent splinters and nailheads from piercing my tender toddling tootsies.
On the upside, Mommy and Daddy really do like the floor we purchased. And we are planning on fixing our subfloor this month and hopefully we can still use the tiles. But you can rest assured we will not be coming back to you for the installation, nor will we be coming to you for our next few projects. And since Daddy says we live in a Money Pit, I think you're going to be the big loser here.
I'm sure we'll continue to stop in for batteries and paintbrushes, but it will take a long time before my confidence is restored. In the meantime, I suggest you take a step out of your big box retailer mentality and put some service back in customer service. You may also consider at least temporarily changing your slogan to:
Home Depot: You can't do it on your own, and We're going to leave you hanging.
My regards,
MRK
Dear Home Depot,
For as long as I can remember -- and I'm almost two, so that's a loooong time -- I have loved shopping at your store. Thank golly god that we have always lived within a 5 minutes drive of one of your mega home supply stores. At least once a week I beg my parents to take me to your store, crying, "Home Depot? Deeeeee-Poh? Deeeeeeeeee-Poh? Pleeeeeeze?" until they drive me there -- there, where I can run freely up and down your wide aisles, hiding my face in the big hanging rag rugs, staring in wonder at the forest of lumber, ten times higher than my self.
I can wistfully recall times spent with Mommy browsing paint chips for the 300 times she re-decorated my room. And Daddy and I, well we enjoy looking at the big guns - lawnmowers, snowblowers, and riding John Deere's we'll never have use for (but a girl can dream, can't she?). And then there were all the hundreds of times we popped in for a lightbulb, or an ant trap, or a battery, or a roll of packing tape.
Anyway, the point is, every time I've needed you, you've been there. Until now.
After the many years of our satisfying retail arrangement, the thousands of dollars spent, and the projects we've completed around the house, we decided to take the next step in our relationship -- hiring the Home Depot to install a new floor in our kitchen.
It took Mommy 5 months to convince Daddy that we could afford to replace the disgusting circa 1940 linoleum floor in our kitchen. And when we finally sold our old house, and were back to one mortgage again, Daddy gave his consent. Together and triumphant we made a family field trip to Home Depot and spent hours picking out the coolest slate-looking laminate. For $50, a nice man came out to our house a few days later and measured the kitchen. He also checked the floor to take a moisture reading -- because, as we learned, moisture is the enemy of laminate flooring. After a quick check, we had the all clear to order our floor. We did have to listen to that guy Pete talk for 2 hours about the installation process, but he did give us a 20% discount on the special order. We were feeling great, paid for everything and scheduled our installation for after the new year.
Last week your flooring subcontractor came out to install the floor. As he was starting to tear up the linoleum he remarked that he should have the whole room done in one day instead of two. We were wicked psych-ed. But an hour later, as more of the linoleum came up, he discovered a huge moisture problem under the floor. Unable to install the laminate, we had him rip up the rest of the hold floor (he was almost done anyway).
Now we're left with a room that looks more like an archaeological dig than a kitchen. All this because your measuring man did not report a moisture problem when he came out. And of course you have agreed to refund the installation labor, and some of the other ten hundred nickel and dime line items on the invoice (I mean, does it really cost $150 to slide the refrigerator out of the way as you work?), you will not allow us to return the floor unless we pay a 15% restocking fee. Of course the cost of the floor is where you were making your money anyway, so why would you let us out of that easily? Even if it was your mistake, and your fault now that I can no longer walk in our kitchen for a juice box and some goldfish unless I wear shoes to prevent splinters and nailheads from piercing my tender toddling tootsies.
On the upside, Mommy and Daddy really do like the floor we purchased. And we are planning on fixing our subfloor this month and hopefully we can still use the tiles. But you can rest assured we will not be coming back to you for the installation, nor will we be coming to you for our next few projects. And since Daddy says we live in a Money Pit, I think you're going to be the big loser here.
I'm sure we'll continue to stop in for batteries and paintbrushes, but it will take a long time before my confidence is restored. In the meantime, I suggest you take a step out of your big box retailer mentality and put some service back in customer service. You may also consider at least temporarily changing your slogan to:
Home Depot: You can't do it on your own, and We're going to leave you hanging.
My regards,
MRK
posted by Martha Who? | 10:00 AM
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