This is what a gas lift looks like.
About 2 months ago the one on my chair started to lose its get-up-and-go. Every so often I’d experience this sinking feeling and after a quick check of my emotional state I realized it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my chair … so, I ignored it, until it became an almost daily experience.
Even though my chair is a few years old, it still has a few good years left so I decided to just replace the gas lift. They’re not difficult to install, the tricky part is removing the old one, but I’d done it before, I could do it again.
I checked the manufacturers website and although they listed several replacement parts I couldn’t find any information about the gas lift.
I emailed them directly. The very next day I received an email back apologizing for the lack of information and they offered to send a gas lift to me, gratis.
I was impressed. This is my kind of customer service, I thought. A problem is brought to their attention and the resolve it. No fuss, no bother, I thought.
The ‘10-12 business days’ waiting period passed, and no UPS truck graced my stoop with a package, so I waited a few more business days, (we are a bit out of the way here on Widder Island) and then emailed the very nice person at customer service …
… who wrote back that it looked like, ‘the package was lost during shipping,’ and they would make sure the package was shipped the very next day.
Today, 6 ‘business’ days later a UPS truck deposits a cardboard box on my stoop.
I open it.
I close it.
I open it again.
I burst into raucous laughter, and valiantly try to approach my keyboard to contact that friendly neighbourhood customer service person, but I keep bursting into further gales of laughter.
I take myself outside to rake the leaves that had fallen from the Summer Tree, and three bins of leaves later I feel I have enough self-control to approach my keyboard and inform Customer Service of this latest chapter in our saga.
As my chair slowly sinks to footstool height, I await a reply.