The shower door fell cleanly off –no real bang and no shattering, thank Jebus. Well, I guess it fell twice: once into the very capable and manly arms of Monsieur Meow (who when left to his own devices and near old-fashioned phone booths transforms into Super HandyMan), and once into my not-nearly-as-capable and decidedly-far-more-lacking-in-strength ones.
I screamed a girly scream, "AAAAAAAAACK! Get your butt up here! NOW!"
He seemed exasperated at first– must not have heard the thud. The door was resting awkwardly on my collarbone now, being held by it and by a hand and part of a knee because that sucker is HEAVY. The baby was looking and pointing and laughing. Ah, to be 18 months old again and to not realize that glass doors can kill you, especially when they are about to fall off their hinge completely for the second time in less than a month.
Obviously, the first fix didn’t do it. My clavicle agrees.
So after some hemming and hawing and wondering, he gets on the phone with someone who is supposed to manufacture doors like ours. It’s Thursday, and naturally they are gone for the week. Naturally.
A few days pass. On Tuesday (that’s today!), it is my job to track down the person who will help. First stop: the installers.
"I’m sorry! I know we may or may not have installed them over two years ago, but now it’s no longer our business because the warranty may or may not have expired and we can’t tell you who we used or what parts were used."
"Can you maybe recommend someone you’re currently working with?"
"Nope, I’m sorry. I don’t have that information."
Hang up. Try building supply company that seemed to have every single part under the sun last time I was there.
"I’m sorry. We don’t sell shower door parts."
"Do you know anyone who could help me?"
"Try Other Building Supply Company."
Call Other Building Supply Company.
"Hmm… yeah. We only do custom shower doors. But starting at $1000 we can probably help you out with your shower door problem."
Tell her I am not willing to pay upwards of $1000 for a shower door hinge and doo-hickey. Thank her and ask if she knows of anyone else. She glibly rattles off long list of names. I Google the one that sounds most reverentially manly and get the number. Calling Manly Plumbing Blah Blah Distributors
"Hello? I have a shower door that is hanging out next to my toilet. Can you help me?"
"Do you happen to know a company with whom you work that might do residential work?"
Well, now. Try Google again for another one of the manly names. Try Other Manly Plumbing Heating Blah Blah place.
"Hello? I was wondering if you could help me?’ Explain the situation one more time.
"I can’t help ya, but I think [Blank] Hardware can."
Apparently in the sales biz, "wholesale" means that you cannot talk to people in a manner that doesn’t make them feel really small and insignificant, because while the second guy was actually helpful he spelled things out for me in what I considered to be a thick Southern accent as if I were a moron. Granted, bud: I may not know the difference between a continuous hinge and piano hinge, but at least my "a" sounds different from my "i" when I’m spelling out words. Just a thought.
But he did put me on the right path and for that I thank him, wherever he may be.
Finally, after a ridiculous amount of telephone stops, I find a business who can actually help me –other than redirecting my call– and a nice person who does not make me feel like a moron. She knows what I’m talking about and tells me what I need to do. I think I’m in love. I swoon. I briefly consider getting the name "Paula" tattooed on my arm. Yess!!!! Three cheers for customer service!!!!!!!!!!
But before I get that tattoo, I need to call about a weird rattling noise in the HVAC.
Oh dear Lord.