Argos

Not really a store I use often did call in today and they helped a lot with a problem. The only downside is they seem slow at serving customers so maybe need to pick up speed a little bit.

Before you chide me, I know. I bought something from Argos. But when needs must, you do what you have to do, with clenched teeth and a tear in your eye. I needed a wardrobe, and fast, so it had to be from Argos. Oh, believe me, I tried Clas Olsen. I would have almost preferred Ikea. In a perfect world it would have been a vintage delight from the 20s, but you know what? One rarely gets what one wants. One did not want a feeble balsa wood monstrosity from the small section of hell in Leeds. And I’m still feeling the heat…
OK. So, it was but £50, which wasn’t too painful. And they get one extra star since the customer service was actually very good –worthy of note, if you’re not a driver and you’ve something substantial they will order you a taxi, which will pick you up from just outside. Bonus! And both the till staff member and queue system dude were really rather friendly, so I’ve no beef there. Additionally, despite being Christmas time, the dreaded queuing system was swift and painless, all things considered. Oooh, Argos, you almost make me like you, you crafty thing! I might even browse the catalogues! NO!
The products, however, are a different kettle of crud. Firstly, I bought two of the plastic wheeled drawers for under bed storage, and discovered when I got home that one of them was cracked and a wheel had fallen off. Certainly, it didn’t happen in the taxi, since I was careful when I put them in, but of course even if I could have exchanged, the hassle and irritation was too much.
Next, the wardrobe was a puzzle designed by Beelzebub himself. It took the best part of a whole morning (from about 10am-​1pm) and just as the final touches were being put into place, on the oh so delicate (read: cheap as chipboard but less durable) frame still wasn’t looking stable. We persevered and just as the final part, the most essential part you might say of a wardrobe, was being fixed into place the *insert strong swearword here* support beam snapped. Not a minor part of the structure, but the bit that basically holds the hanging rail of the unit in place. The bit that essentially, for me at least, defines the item as a wardrobe. There was no undue force. It simply gave up being a piece of wood, and wimped out into two pieces.
You can imagine my reaction. Do I ask for a replacement, which I won’t be able to collect until days later, meaning several more days with a clothes heap and the rage every time I look at such a pile? What if they refuse to replace it? What if I just lost fifty quids, in exchange for losing four hours plus? No. No, Argos you cunning fiend, I will not have it. I will not be foiled, except that I was, but I would salvage something dammit, I would salvage!
So it is gaffa-​d in place. Yes, I resorted to wood glue and gaffa, and perhaps that’ll come to bite me in the proverbial, but I simply couldn’t face losing more time on the project. (And money, let’s face it –I’d have to taxi there and back for a new one even if they agreed it was faulty/​unfit for anything more than firewood.) Also, I’m not sure whether words would have come out of my mouth on the phone but merely vague utterances relating to anger and despair. It might have been that I simply begged for my life back from the customer service adviser, and let’s be honest, no one would have enjoyed that indignity.
So, she still stands thanks to sheer power of will. And the most useful tape in the world. Here’s hoping she’ll not fail me. Wouldn’t want the streets of Leeds to be littered with my clothes, whilst I flail about in a desperate naked frenzy.