A few days ago we thought our year long quest to purchase a table for our home had finally ended. Unfortunately, though a table and six chairs arrived at our home, we did not receive seats for those six chairs, making the chairs impossible to sit in, and the table essentially unusable.
We spent the weekend sitting on our couch and gazing longingly at the almost-embodiment of our hopes and dreams.
I called the man from the shop where we had ordered it. He apologized for the delay and explained that certain obstacles had come up. However, a man would come to our house with the seats that night at 6pm. If you’ve been paying attention, this is the third time I was told that someone would come at 6pm. At this point, I trusted him about as far as I could throw him, and I’m a scholar not an athlete.
So I told the guy that the table was useless to me without the seats, and if I didn’t get seats that night, I would be Zahlen, “very sad/upset.”
That night, four hours after 6pm, an out-of-breath man showed up at my door with a big bag of seats over his shoulder, like Santa Clause himself. I gleefully assisted him in the 10 minute process of screwing the seats to the chairs.
And so the great table fiasco finally ended. We sat upon the cushiness of our victory and sighed with joy and exaltation. Then we noticed that they hadn’t used the fabric we had ordered. In the end, we got our table, and Egypt got the last laugh.