Sometimes I don’t manage to do it the polite way.

Today I accepted delivery of a piece of furniture, and, guess what? It arrived badly scratched.  I’m afraid I freaked out a little bit. I was standing out in the freezing cold, trying to communicate with the truck driver, who did not speak my language very well, that I was unhappy and that the damage was unacceptable. Turned out, the people I needed to complain to weren’t the delivery guys but the original shippers. But before I figured that out, I was a bit curt with the guys. Not mean, not nasty, but not exactly cordial either. After all, they had wanted to drop the damn thing off a block away and make me drag it home from the curb, which wasn’t exactly what I signed up for. Had I not demanded they do the right thing, they would have left me completely in the lurch. Still, I didn’t like getting all up in their grilles, so to speak.

I’d prefer to be a master of decorum and serenity all the time. I want to always treat people with kindness and understanding. But there are times when, in the heat of a moment, I don’t find that easy. I ended up emailing a very strongly worded, yet reasonable letter to the shipper, who promised to rectify matters. Let’s hope he does, because I really hate confrontation, but I’m not afraid to stand up for myself either.