Office Furniture

Apologies for the hiatus, Bonnie and I finally caved and bought ourselves some office furniture. The southwest corner of our modest apartment is now home to a right corner desk, a left corner desk, a hutch, two lateral files, two bookcases, and a three-drawer file. For the past two weeks the place has been a mess, littered with unassembled furniture and their corresponding boxes. Things are getting back to normal now, so here are a couple lessons learned from the whole debacle:

  1. If you buy furniture from Office Depot, make sure you pick it up yourself. They use Purolator to deliver everything, which is fine if you’re buying a box of Sharpies, but not such a good idea for 800 pounds worth of furniture. Imagine you were in the furniture delivery business; think of all the things you would have to do to make the process go smoothly everyday. Purolator doesn’t do any of that.
  2. The corollary is that it is not a good idea to ship large, heavy items using Purolator. I asked the delivery guy, “How did this box get like this, was it dropped?” To which he responded, “It’s possible, everything goes down a conveyor.” This is from the same guy that punched our apartment number into the intercom rather than looking up the correct code in the directory right beside the intercom. He did this on two separate occasions. This was also his “first large delivery”. They sent him by his lonesome to bring all 800 pounds up himself. Good job Purolator!

Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge now. I’m just worried about moving day next year. All this new office furniture plus another four bookcases, a marble dining table, eight dining chairs, and a queen-size bed[1] (those latter three items are all hand-me-downs from Bonnie’s parents), probably means professional movers are in order. I say we should make the most of it and pick up a (baby) grand piano too. I wonder if any of them would bring in a huge crane and move stuff via the balcony like they do in some European cities. That’d be cool.

[1] Thankfully not a four-poster carved from the trunk of a giant sequoia, which we always half-jokingly tell ourselves that we’ll pick up eventually.

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