On Aug. 27 I ordered a treadmill online from Sears.com. It seemed like a pretty good deal for a Sole F80.
Ironically, given what was to follow, I picked Sears because of its delivery policy: for a $100 extra, Sears would carry the treadmill up one flight of stairs and assemble it. There were better or equal prices online, but not from companies that did their own delivery (I wanted one company responsible for the whole transaction), or would do stairs; one other company would sell me the same model for the same price, but wanted more than double for the install. So Sears, at least on that day, offered the best deal. Consumer Reports liked the model, and I figured it would pay for itself in a couple years of gym memberships, and be far more convenient too.
I wanted the treadmill in my upstairs bedroom, but the same heart condition that makes a brisk walk the only exercise my doctor permits me also means I can’t lift up anything heavy. So I needed the delivery and setup. We scheduled delivery for the next Saturday ($10 extra) so I wouldn’t have to risk missing something at work. Although I have some flexibility in my day, Sears won’t promise a particular delivery window more than a day in advance and there didn’t seem to be any way to choose one. I didn’t want them to pick a time I had a class or a meeting. The next day Sears charged my credit card for the treadmill, for the delivery, and for the Saturday delivery supplement.
A few days before the Sept 1 delivery Sears robocalled me to confirm someone over 18 would be home on Saturday. The robot said it would call me again on Friday night to tell me what time the delivery would be. That’s not ideal – it means you can’t plan to do anything else all day, but I did want the treadmill. And on Friday evening the robot called back to say delivery would be between 9-11. We got up early to move the dining table and the heavy sofa to clear a path to the staircase and to make the bed so the room would look nice for the delivery people. That’s a bigger issue than it sounds – we have to get up at 6:15 on workdays to get our son to school, and we really really like to sleep a bit later on weekends. Ever since my operation I find that it’s much more important to get that extra sleep, or I really don’t feel as good or work as well. But I wanted the treadmill.
Eleven o’clock on Saturday, Sept. 1 came and went. I called Sears to find out what was happening. The truck is running late, I was told, but it will be there soon. And indeed, a few minutes later a truck pulled up and two friendly guys, one of whom even spoke English, came in the house to survey the route to the bedroom where I wanted the treadmill, where a rubber treadmill mat awaited. Looking at the stairs, the delivery guys announced that it looked like a tight fit, and it would be better to open the box outside the house, take up the two big pieces separately, and then assemble the treadmill upstairs. I was fine with that. They lowered the large box on the truck’s tail lift and opened up the box. The treadmill was all smashed up, as if someone had taken a giant machete to it front and center, or maybe dropped it from several feet.
Having read many online horror stories about how hard it is to schedule treadmill repair, and generally believing that it would be nice to have the new and undamaged unit I’d paid for, I told the delivery guys that I would not accept it, and to please take it back and bring me an undamaged one. They called dispatch, and a very annoyed lady made me recite all my personal information – name, phone number, address, zip code – even though they were delivering to me, and their delivery guy had called her from his phone – before asking peevishily why I wouldn’t take the damaged treadmill. I explained it was smashed. Continue reading
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