More Mealey's - My Battle for the Furniture I Purchased

On Sun, Oct 20, 2019, 1:52 PM Karen Moser <karen.moser@mealeysfurniture.com> wrote:

Jamie,

     Your order was placed on 9/26/2019.  At the time your order was placed it was not in stock at our warehouse, in which case you were told by the person entering your order at the help desk it would be 3-8 weeks for delivery.   The 8 weeks would be by November 23.  I do not know who gave you the
date of October 11th, but that date was nit available.

Karen Moser
Office Manager
Mealey's Furniture
2180 MacArthur Road #15A
Whitehall, PA  18052
610-973-2910


_____________________________________________________

I was told it WAS in the warehouse. Both by Nancy, my sales person, and then by the cashier woman (I'm sorry, but I didn't get her name). They both said Oct 11 at the latest. 

Had someone said November, there is absolutely NO way possible that I would have bought this. There was another couch in your store I also liked. And there are other stores in the area. I didn't even want to wait until Columbus Day, when there are sales, because I needed a couch before then. Something you're perhaps aware of, as your store has been widely discussed among my peers. "Yes, this is the spot where there isn't a couch to sit on. Please enjoy our lovely floor because Mealey's lied to me about the delivery date!" 

Maybe your computer system is out of date? Maybe your employees conspire to sell things you don't have? I don't know. It's funny that you're going out of business but wouldn't sell the floor model. Granted, the day I was at the Whitehall store, only your New Jersey location was actually going out of business, but all locations were having the sale. Seems your website has since changed that stance. 

I called, emailed, used the website contact form, tired the "live" chat (which isn't live), and reached out on Twitter and Facebook. All to no avail. No one would respond.

This is why you're getting letters by mail. And being contacted by the Better Business Bureau. 

I've reached out to both the main store and the Whitehall one to try to track down furniture that was, no matter what you believe, GUARANTEED to be here earlier this month. (Which, again, I would NOT have bought it if even the possibility of November were mentioned.) 

I was going to drive to the warehouse to pick it up, but was told that would take longer than having it delivered. I offered to pick it up from the store, but was told that would take longer still. Only paying for delivery got me the Oct 11, at the latest, date. "But since you're paying in cash, it'll probably come SOONER than that." (The cashier.) 

And if you look at the invoice, it says that the items are in the warehouse. Not "being ordered". Not something "out of stock". WAREHOUSE. I can send yet another copy of that, if you like. 

I have been extremely mistreated by your store. I don't know how high up the lies to customers go. The manager signed off on the purchase. There are initials. We didn't speak, but I assume Nancy didn't vanish into some office for twenty minutes for nothing. 

How high up on the chain are you? Can you do an investigation to figure out where the policy of lying about delivery dates comes from? At least two people at the store looked at computer screens when determining a date. I was there with my husband and father, that's three people who witnessed this, who heard the date. Who saw them look at screens when they said the number. At different points in the interaction, mind you. Two different computer screens. (One near the couch in the store, to the right side as you're coming in the door. The other computer is at the cashier station in the middle of the store.) 

If you aren't high enough on the chain, may I please be put in contact with someone who is? There's obviously something going on here. Finding out what isn't MY job.

I just want my furniture. I want what I paid for, and I want it this month as I went to a bit of trouble to get that date. I had to drive across town to my credit union to get cash, and then get that money back to the store. "The delivery team will contact you soon! Expect your items before the eleventh." 

-Jamie

_____________________________________________________

The company responded to your submission and we are passing it along to you.  The contents of this message are below or attached.  Please respond to this message in written form within 10 days.

The text of your complaint may be publicly posted on BBBs Web site

"MESSAGE FROM BUSINESS:

The furniture was a special order item which is not scheduled to arrive until November. 

To clarify, though the store is closing, the management and operations staff will remain indefinitely to insure that orders are fulfilled."

I am rejecting this response because:

There was NO MENTION of it being a "special item" requiring additional time. There was another couch we were considering. Had anyone said, "this one will take over 6 weeks to come" we would have gone with the other. No, actually, on the sales slip, it says the item is at the warehouse. No mention of a special order from elsewhere. We would have gladly taken the one on the showroom floor, but that wasn't an option either. "October 11 at the latest," that's what was said, with a strong implication that paying cash meant it would come even sooner than that. 

_________________________

http://levittownnow.com/2019/09/26/mealeys-furniture-to-close/

#WEP #WEPFF Horrible Harvest Flash Fiction

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2019/10/october-1st-get-thinking-get-horrible.html

My offering for this prompt comes in the form of a correspondence written in a (possible) future. 500 words. Full critique acceptable. The first two paragraphs are based on a true event (except it wasn't oranges, her real name isn't Maria, and I don't know if she has a cousin named Angel in Ecuador). 

{Content Warning - Immigration in America, dystopian realism, environmental concerns}



Dear Angel,

I was born to nothing, as you know. An immigrant daughter of migrant workers in an orange grove in 2018 was as nothing as one could be. Perhaps harvesting fruit wasn't so horrible, once upon a time. But the grove gave no place to hide. Both my parents and three eldest siblings were deported when I was eleven. My younger sister and I landed in a border detention center not long after. Not sure if you knew that. She died in my arms.

I didn't know it then, but it was from infection. The sores on her body weren't treated. Sitting in her own filth for days made it worse. I remember telling the guards she was hot. They told me it was because I kept holding her, that my body heat was making her that way. They didn't care.

They do now. As you said in your correspondence, you know I'm a lawyer. Actually, I'm a senior partner at the most renowned law firm in the country when it comes to prosecuting those who ran those centers. We've won against every level in the chain of command, from the janitors who didn't meet required standards to the monster at the top who allowed the centers to exist. I had orange stripes painted on our third branch office, to represent the grove where my parents once worked.

No amount of money can replace my sister. Or the years lost with my family. I still wake up screaming in the night, fighting off the rapist guards who took me against my will. I'll never marry. Sleeping beside someone, much less marital intimacy, isn't something I can bear.

Instead, I've adopted wildlife. The lands and animals are my children, my legacy. I bought an area that was once a national park, back when such things existed. It would have been mined, drilled, or fracked by those who refuse to let go of the ways of the Industrial revolution. It's protected now, for the next five hundred years at least. I even have a provision to make it a country on to itself, should the States, Union, and New Confederacy break apart even further.

I invite you to visit, dear cousin. I realize you're busy running Ecuador and preparing for your journey, but I do hope you'll be able to make the trip here first. Neither of us has much family left. No one does these days with the shrinking population. But I wish for you to understand why I won't be among the ones on the last space ship to depart. I know all the reasons to leave, and that those who can afford it go. And I know how many have sold themselves into slavery to get onto the ships. I thank you for offering to spare me from such a fate.

But I will stay here. There are still people to help. And if the heat, droughts, storms, or radiation gets me, so be it.

All my love-

Maria




*************************************

Thanks for reading!

Update from previous post:
Still no word on when I'll get the furniture I paid for in September.
https://uniquelymaladjustedbutfun.blogspot.com/2019/10/mealeys-furniture-delivery-scam.html
I have started a letter-writing campaign. Much harder to ignore actual mail, I hope!
If you're willing and able to help, please print and mail this letter: https://docs.google.com/document/
If you'd like to edit it:

MEALEY'S FURNITURE DELIVERY SCAM

ATTENTION:
I bought a sofa at Mealey's Furniture. I've been trying to find out when it will be delivered. I was told paying in cash would get me the fastest delivery. I was promised it would come this month.
They're now saying my September purchase won't come until NOVEMBER.
DO NOT SHOP THERE FOR ANYTHING YOU CAN'T CARRY OUT OF THE STORE. I'd have taken the floor model if they let me. I was even told it would take longer if I drove to Philly to get it myself. LONGER THAN NOVEMBER?
This is your Public Service Announcement. The delivery is a scam. No wonder they're going out of business with a practice like this!

Bought on SEPTEMBER 26.

Do NOT buy anything you can't carry out of the store that day from @FollowMealeys Mealey's Furniture! Here has been my experience so far:
(6 pics so far) pic.twitter.com/y1Ax2bmyDL

— JamieWriter (@PenMinion) October 13, 2019

Credit Bureaus are a Cruel Joke

Equifax (the latest data breach one), Experian, and TransUnion Credit Bureaus. They rule adult American lives. They decide what a person is worth.

A good job? That doesn't matter.
Paid rent on time for over a decade? Nope, don't care.
Pay ISP and phone on time? Irrelevant.
Volunteer in the community? So what.
Actually paid off student loans at some point? Vanished from report.
Help little old ladies carry things? Nice to children and pets? Decent human? Not a factor.

You have to have two of the right kind of credit lines open, and owe exactly the right percent of money for a certain time period. But no one agrees what that is! And maybe it isn't two. Sometimes it is three. But it has to be just the right amount! And that's how they give a score.

What is that score? Some pretend number that has AT LEAST 4 different ways of being calculated. A number that varies wildly depending on who checks it. And how often they check it and why.

There needs to be another credit bureau. One that the consumer has input. One where the consumer reports payments, along with proof, every month. "Here is a copy of the check or the confirmation number for my payment." Volunteer hours should COUNT for something.

And there needs to be a law stating that the consumer has the right to request THAT REPORT be used to determine creditworthiness. Either instead of or in conjunction with the others, CONSUMER'S CHOICE. And the consumer should get to decide when good reporting things vanish, not everything automatically vanishes after seven years. (You shouldn't be punished with a lower score because you paid a loan off two years ahead of schedule! If anything, that should be a massive boost!!!)

We should take back control. This current system is garbage. Three companies with virtually no oversight have made up numbers that determine human worth. That should not be allowed to continue.

"Vive la révolution!"

Who is with me?

#WEPFF #WEP #IWSG Red Wheelbarrow

Write Edit Publish flash fiction

Super Red Wheelbarrow 
By Jamie


"You're telling me you two are superheroes?" The chief of surgery raised her eyebrow and swirled her coffee cup. There wasn't much left to slosh around. Until I finish this, that was how long she'd agreed to listen.

"No, ma'am. Just super. We haven't done anything heroic yet. But we heard this morning about the case of the undocumented child in need of a transplant. We can save that child."

The chief pressed the cup to her lips. She let the warm liquid roll toward her mouth as she debated. Call psych? Call security? Or listen to more? She had prayed for a miracle. None of the other superheroes had a way to help the child. A few offered to fly the patient elsewhere or fly donor organs to the hospital. But there were no organs to match.

"How would you help?"

"We are Red Wheelbarrow, a partnership of powers. I have perfect mimicry of any activity I observe. Meaning if you let me observe a transplant surgery, I will be able to perform it. Video will work, though first-hand is best. I also have outstanding luck."

"Luck?" The chief sighed as she set her cup down. "That isn't a recognized power."

"It falls under the classification of sixth-sense for immediate danger. Knowing when I'm about to be unlucky is part of it. Give me a true-false test, and I'll get a perfect score by knowing which answers are unlucky. The odds are stacked in my favor all the time. That's how I met my power counterpart."

The one dressed in red, relaxing as a curled up ball on the floor, waved.

"Another one with luck power?" The chief turned her chair, intent on throwing the coffee cup into the trash bin behind her. It was full. The janitorial staff had never failed to empty it before. She mentally swore.

"No, ma'am. SC can regenerate. Also has the power to change blood type."

The chief held up her hands. "No. That's definitely not a recognized power. I have work to do and lives to save. You've taken up enough of my time."

"Your cup isn't empty. We have until you've finished. SC, hand." With blinding speed, a finger was removed and thrown across the room. There was a tiny splash as it landed in the nearly empty cup.

"What have you done!" The chief ran over. She took SC's hand, examining the wound. Another finger grew before her eyes. The chief glared.

"Thank goodness you really do have that power." She returned to her desk.

"The amputated digit is in your cup. You can test it for a blood type. And test SC, who will have a different type in a few minutes from now. The one the child needs."

"If that's true, why would I need you? I have trained surgeons."

"You aren't legally allowed to perform the surgery because of the child's immigration status. But it's unethical to release the patient. Lucky for you, I'm here."

"I can't just let unqualified people perform surgery. Even superheroes."

"Ever try to stop one?"

-----

The chief walked into the scrub room. "Everything is ready. This is all off the books. Officially, this OR is closed for repairs."

"And my red scrub cap?"

"Here. One last question. Why do you call your partnership of powers Red Wheelbarrow?'

"We really like the color red. It's good luck."

"Yes. And?"

"Wheelbarrow races. You can't do those alone. It's a two person effort that requires knowing and accepting each other. Move in sync or fail. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have a life to save."

https://www.wikihow.com/Have-a-Wheelbarrow-Race

This flash fiction is a take on Grey's Anatomy Season 15's Gus storyline set in an alternative universe where superheroes are known to exist.

Caged Bird #WEPFF Flash Fiction My Terms

http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2019/06/june-wepiwsg-challenge-sign-up-caged.html

My story is controversial and may contain subject matter not suitable for all readers. So I'm sharing this Aerosmith song which also has a lyric about a caged bird, for those who would prefer that.



🎵 "I think that you should let your caged bird fly." 🎵



Story content / trigger warning: dystopian future, pro-choice, mass-shooting, suicide, genocide. 962 words NCCO

My Terms 

by Jamie

I was there when the shots rang out in the Capitol Building. Screams accompanied a stampede. More shots echoed as agents yelled for people to move or to get down. Three women left in handcuffs within minutes. I arrested one of them.

"We are the last of the Female Assasins. Killing those who destroy society is encouraged, rewarded even. It is not a crime," the oldest looking one tells me. Her short, gray hair blows back and forth as the interrogation room fan hits her. She doesn't seem to mind, unlike me, who can already feel my neck stiffening.

"We are time travelers. We have no peers in this time. Therefore, you cannot put us on trial. Not that we've committed a crime, as you insinuated."

There isn't enough coffee in the world for me to do this job. What is it about Mondays that brings out the crazy?

"In fifty years, there is only the Unwanted left. They are infertile, by choice or birth. We are the last three Female Assassins. No males remain with which to breed. We came here to kill the ones who made choices that end humanity."

I rub my temples. "Fifty years from now seven billion people are dead?"

"Some were cooked. But most were starved by the Unwanted. They are not peaceful or reasonable. We three Assassins survived because we killed to live. The Unwanted control all the remaining food and knowledge. We kidnapped one to learn time travel. They do not use this technology. And why should they? The world exists for them."

"Why are they called the Unwanted if the world exists for them?"

"You once called them foster children. But the system was overrun, about ten years from today. Millions of them. They rule a revolution. Within eight years they sterilized themselves. Then there's the drug in the water, which causes any new ones to be born unable to breed."

I chew on my pen cap as I try to keep a straight face. "You expect me to believe this?"

She scratches the back of her wrinkled hand. "We didn't come here to be believed. We came here to prevent a problem."

I nod. "See, the thing is that you created a new problem. Murdering some high valued targets in plain view, being seen doing it, means I have to deal with you. Not the best assassins, are you?"

"This was a one-way trip. We accept death. Or you can send me back to prison. At least this time, it will be for a choice."

I lean back in my metal chair. "So, you're in the system?"

"Not yet. Next year the version of me from your time will be. She's going to miscarry. And as she lies screaming on the hospital bed, blood still wet on her legs, someone like you will arrest her. Three point five million prisoners by next year."

"There's just over two million right now. Lady, we can't house that many."

She laughs. "You'll convert old shopping malls, abandoned apartments, even some schools. In five years, female prisoners become the fifth-largest export. You can't kill them here. So they're sent off to be tortured to death elsewhere. That's when the second wave of the rebellion commences."

I look at my empty coffee mug. Bourbon would be better. "Second wave, hmm? What's the first?"

"A few days from now, the My Terms riots will commence, that becomes the first wave. A string of three-way suicides sets it off."

"Three-way suicides?" She's obviously planning to plead insanity.

"A pregnant 19-year-old rape victim is first. A fist full of pills, arteries sliced open, face down in a bucket of water. The words My Terms scrolled in blood on her college dorm wall."

Guess that's how you make sure you die.

"The second is a 13-year-old, pregnant by her step-father according to the autopsy. Hung herself after downing pills and shooting enough drugs to destroy her heart. Same words, though she wrote them with lipstick."

I'm grateful I haven't eaten recently. Need to remember I'm talking to a crazy old woman who just shot up Congress.

"A mother of three is next. She left a note. Couldn't get treatment while pregnant. She didn't want her children to watch her suffer, nor would she land herself in jail when her cervical cancer inevitably resulted in a miscarriage. Signed the note with the phrase My Terms. Drank drain cleaner, then shot herself while leaping from a tall building."

"You're telling me a bunch of pregnant women are going to kill themselves, and that's why you opened fire in Congress?"

She scratches the back of her hand, breaking the skin this time. "I am telling you that's how it starts. They die, and then people riot. Hundreds more die. Thousands are arrested. More women go to jail. More people riot or protest, also landing in the big house."

"Do you want a tissue or a bandage for that?"

"There are those who will not become caged birds. My Terms means dying your own way, taking triple precautions to ensure it. Like a time-release poison capsule, having an organ sliced so you're bleeding internally, and having a cardio-wire that can be tricked into stopping your heart."

I look at her hand. She touches a wire sticking out where she was scratching. A moment later, she's face down on the table. I curse, my chair falling as I bolt up and rip the door open. "Help!"

Two other interrogation rooms are open. I hear someone yell, "Clear!" A stretcher is beside my desk. My boss runs toward me with the defibrillator from the breakroom. The television behind him shows a reporter outside a college campus, the caption under her reporting the suicide of a pregnant 19-year-old.



https://twitter.com/JoshDorner/status/1126276417921134592

https://www.businessinsider.com/women-30-years-prison-miscarriage-georgia-abortion-2019-5

Budgeting - May 2019

Just collecting data to see how my budgeting is going.

May 2019

41.94%  -- Rent                                    (can't be cut)
31.56%  -- Food                                    (could try to cut down)
  8.39%  -- Mobile Phone                    (already cut down from before)
  7.96% -- Electric                                 (already cut down from before)
  6.72% -- Car Insurance                     (already cut down from before)
  4.73% -- Internet                                (already cut down from before)
  4.57% -- Transportation                    (can't be cut)
  2.42% -- Subscriptions/ Services    (could try to cut down)
  2.15% -- Fuel                                       (can't be cut by me)
  2.15% -- Prescriptions                       (will likely go up)
  2.04% -- OnStar                                 (shouldn't be cut)
  0.86% -- XM                                       (could try to cut)
  0.54% -- Bill/ Debt                            (should be far higher)

116.02% Spent