I have been on this planet thirty-two years and besides a bed I have avoided buying a major piece of furniture. (Although I have purchased major appliances.) For some reason whenever I had roommates couches just appear in our apartment like they grew on trees or were easy to steal off of porches. Whatever the case may be we always had one. A year and a half ago when I moved to Buffalo when it came time to purchase furniture I went with a futon because I knew I wasn’t going to be in that apartment long. (Who knew it would be less than 8 months?) It was the right choice at the time.
A few weeks ago I brought a date home and I caught a lot of shit for having a futon. Personally I believe that me having a futon was a key factor in her choice not to get naked with me. It caused me to reevaluate my life, my possessions, and the fact that there is no reason to have a futon at my age. So this weekend I did what every other suburban living person does on the weekend, I shopped.
I have to start out by saying that I know nothing about shopping for pieces of furniture. Semi important things like: What fabric, size, lining, legs, and other valuable pieces of information are all questions I couldn’t answer. Frankly I didn’t care if I could answer those questions anyway. My process involved two criteria:
1) Can I fall asleep on it while watching a crappy reality TV show?
2) Is the color close to my other crap where it doesn’t make it so my living room was put together by an asshole?
Unshaven, slightly hung over, wearing a wrinkled shirt, with flip-flops on my feet I headed to a major furniture store. So there I was walking around the showroom randomly flopping down on couches trying to measure the nap–ability factor. I was totally looking like a homeless dude trying to squeeze off a couple of z’s.
Finally when I made my choice I had to find a salesperson, which when looking like a homeless dude is very hard to do. As couples and families walked through the stores the sales people basically jumped out of the woodwork. In fact I think they hid out in armoires looking through the peephole waiting for their target customers to come by.
So I cornered a reluctant salesperson and we went through the full ranges of sales emotion.
Me: Could I get some help please?
Him: (This dude doesn’t have money.) How can I help you?
Me: I want this couch right here in this color. When can I get it by?
Him: (Oh wait he wants to buy now. But he probably wants to apply for a store credit card, which he won’t get.) Would you like to apply for our store credit card?
Me: No, I will just pay for it straight out.
Him: You know for $63 you can get stain resistant coating and a warranty that protects against rips, tears, and wear and tear.
Me: (What happens if I am lying on the couch hung over and crap myself… Or if Rick James rises from the dead and comes over?)
Yeah put me down for that.
Him: (He wants the stain guard, nobody buys that. I think I just came in my pants.) Thank you sir.
So in 4-7 weeks I will be the proud owner of a new couch. Looks like I need to call someone for a third date and test out that stain guard.
Is there anything more boring that shopping for furniture… other than reading about it?