This was the scene at our house the day after Thanksgiving 2008. Seriously, I am traumatized enough that I remember the day. So, this was the scene at our house, except that we are Hispanic, not African American. And I was pregnant with Mateo.
This kid came in to demonstatrate all the wonders of a Kirby vacuum to us. And the thing I remember most from his demonstration was the huge hole in his shoe. Oh, and the tons of filth that he showed us that our house contained. And the way he convinced me that, since I was expecting, I was basically an unfit mother if I allowed my newborn child to live in the filth. And the way he impressed Jose with the vacuums extra features, that we would recieve as a free gift since we have no carpet in our house, including a floor sander and buffer. Yes. I am serious.
So, we did what any reasonable people would do. We bought it. (If your jaw just dropped, go read
this post about how I'm a common sucker for saying no to things.) After all, they gave us this special deal and it only cost $1,000. And they financed it for us because of our amazing credit for only $80 a month. So, after about six hours of demonstrating its amazingness, he took our $50 deposit and our crappy old cheap Dirt Devil vacuum and left this beautiful 100 lb. metal robot of a vacuum that had the ability to save the world (plus all of it's thinga-ma-bobies).
But, something in my pregnant belly didn't feel right. And it wasn't indigestion. And it wasn't Mateo. So, I sat on google and researched Kirby. And looked up the prices for all the things, like floor cleaning solution, because it was also able to transform into a wet vacuum type of thing. And I studied the contract. And did the math.
The interest rate on our dust-killing, house-transforming, world-saving machine was going to cost us more than the vacuum itself. And our $80 a month was going to last longer than our car payments. So, I got to the fine print.
Within 3 days of signing the contract, a purchaser of a door-to-door sales pitch has the right to cancel the contract, in writing, with no fees or penalties. Immediately, I wrote a letter cancelling our purchase, made copies of the letter and the contract, and mailed it to the Kirby company that was halfway across the state, making sure that I paid the extra money to require them to sign for receipt of the letter.
That is when the story turns from a super-hero vacuum tale to a horror movie...
Once I recieved the card in the mail confirmed that they recieved the letter cancelling our order, I called. When I was finally able to speak to a person, they denied knowing anything about recieving the cancellation. I told them, straight up, that I had all the copies of what was sent, as well as the post office's confirmation of receipt of the letter. They said they needed to look into it and they would get back to me.
No one did. So, I waited. And waited. Then, around Christmas, the calls started coming in claiming that we were late on our payment for our Kirby vacuum. Our first installment payment. And that if we did not pay, we would be turned in to collections. I spoke kindly to the billing company, and explained that they needed to speak to the Kirby dealer. We cancelled our order.
After many games of "he said, she said," phone tag, and plain miscommunication and lies, the billing company asked us to fax them a copy of what was sent to Kirby. The Kirby dealer denied that we cancelled the order. I kindly obliged to the billing company and I also kindly gave the Kirby dealer a piece of my mind.
But yet, the vacuum sat at our house. And, I refused to pay for it. I wanted my crappy cheap Dirt Devil back. And I wanted my $50 deposit back. And I wanted them to take the monstrocity of metal that I couldn't even carry up the stairs because I was pregnant back. (Jose used it to clean though, simply because we had no other vacuum to use, and the rugs were dirty.)
After the New Year, I was tired of waiting. So I called and asked if they were going to come pick up their stupid vacuum. Arrangements were made for a salesguy to come pick it up when they were in town the following Saturday. We set the date and time and I promised that we would be home. And we were. All day. Morning, afternoon, and night. And no one came to get the vacuum. No call. No word whatsoever.
I was fed up, to say the least. And I was so done dealing with them. If they wanted their vacuum that supposedly cost more than a wii, a PS3, and an Xbox combined, they could do the leg work to get it. And I re-read the contract. It stated that they had 2 weeks to come pick up their vacuum. More than 2 months had passed.
So a week or two later, on a Saturday morning when we for some reason didn't have Isa at home, someone came to the door, but we were sleeping in so we didn't hear it. Then my phone began to ring. It was the Kirby people coming unannounced to pick up their vacuum. They even said, on the phone, that the noticed both cars in the driveway.
I went to the door, pissed off and 8 (or 9) months pregnant. I was within weeks of having Mateo. I told them to fuck off (Sorry for the language, but it's what I said.) and that they needed to read their own contract. That I was tired of dealing with them and that they were the least professional, most ridiculous "company" that I had ever dealt with. I chewed this man out. Then, he turned around and told me that if I failed to give them the Kirby back, they would hit me with the largest lawsuit that I have ever seen and that with being so pregnant, I didn't want to have the extra stress that they would bring me. He even insinuated that they would break us so much that we would lose everything, including our house. I am sure that I said the f-word about ten more times as I told him to get his stupid vacuum and that it wasn't even worth it. Then I threw it out the door and slammed, and locked, it.
That's when I broke down into tears and Jose looked at me shocked. And I realized that we didn't get our vacuum back or our $50...so I sent Jose out to ask them about it. They gave him a vacuum, someone else's old re-furbished vacuum, because they had no way of knowing which was ours and said the check would be mailed to us, because they "forgot" to get it.
We breathed deeply, then moved on. I figured we would wait a week or so for the check before worrying about it. And Jose went to use the vacuum that they gave us that they assured was the best of the best (aside from Kirby, of course). It wouldn't turn on.
I gave up. I called my mom, hysterical, and told her to deal with it. I was on the verge of giving birth to Mateo simply because of the stress of a freakin' vacuum. She called and told them that they had better give us a working vacuum and our check back. I don't really know what she said, and I don't care. She handled it and before Teo was born, we had both in our posession.
And when Teo was about a month old, the vacuum they gave us blew up and stopped working. Surprise, surprise.
Needless to say, now, when I see a door-to-door salesman, I ignore them. Unless of course, they are bearing hand soap, dish soap, or something equally appealing. Then, I open the door. I take the soap. And when the ask to come in, I tell them no, close the door and lock it...keeping the soap. I mean, they offered it as a gift, right? (And after having one ask me for the soap back since I wouldn't let him in, I decided that they need to learn the meaning of gift.)
