Happy Ending

No, this is not about Tiger Woods or Ben Roethlisberger because, quite frankly, I'm tired of hearing about those two shitsticks. Tiger, not only are you a horrible husband, but you're a terrible father. It will be difficult enough to be the children of Tiger Woods, but now you've dumped this huge pile of man-slut sex crap on top of them. And Ben, you don't have children (thank god) but it doesn't mean you should be out having sex with them.*

But I digress. Like I said, this is not about those two jackasses. This post is about my jogging stroller and how my rollercoaster ride with Kelty has turned me into a very loyal Kelty owner. (Oh man, can you imagine what'll happen the day The Clymb hosts a Kelty sale? I won't know what to do with myself!)

A couple of months ago I bought a Kelty Duece Coupe from a neighbor. It was out in her yard and I came by to ask her if she liked it because I was on the look-out for a double jogger and turns out that she was selling it. I paid her $120 for it and walked it the 100 yards back to my house. I grabbed some snacks, loaded the kids up and went for my first run. I fell in love instantly. Even though it was really wide (compared to our old single seat jogger), it turned very easily. It glided along, and more importantly, it let me glide. I ran, pumping my legs and arms, unencumbered by the limbs of others. But once the high wore off, I noticed a scraping sound that soon started to wear on my nerves. Turns out that the fender was cracked and rubbing against the wheel, so I promptly had D take it off, not realizing that without it, every little pebble we rolled over would spin up and rocket into the faces of my adorable and unsuspecting babes. I ran a few more times with them, avoiding rocks like land mines, but eventually I parked the stroller in the corner of the garage and resolved to email Kelty's warranty department and order a new part.

March 13th - Sent an email to the address on Kelty's website.
March 25th - After confirming that I had typed the address in correctly, I resent the email to their warranty department.
April 1st - Called Kelty and asked for a new part. The woman who answered the phone asked for my number and said that she would call me once she had determined whether or not they had the part in their warehouse.
April 2nd - Called and gave them my credit card number. Part ordered. Sweet.
April 12th - Called Kelty to see where my part was. They are headquarted about 30 miles from my house, so it was a little weird that I hadn't received anything yet considering that B could have done her Mission Impossible belly scooch to their warehouse and back in the time since I'd sent them the first email. Spoke to a representative who will remain nameless. As tempting as it is to out the girl that pissed me off, this is a company issue. There is fundamentally something wrong with the warranty department at Kelty because seriously, who runs a company that doesn't answer their emails? Doesn't even send an automated "We've received your email and will hopefully respond with in 24 hours days?" Anyway, the rep was polite yet unhelpful. She did a little sleuthing and discovered that the part had been ordered as a miscellaneous item and so the warehouse hadn't pulled it because they couldn't tell from the order what the item actually was. She explained this to me as if it were my fault. She said she fixed the problem in the system and that it should resolve the issue. When I asked her when I should expect to receive the part, she huffed that she had no idea. I explained to her that when I called, I expected her to tell me that the part had been sent, not that it was still sitting, unidentifiable, in their warehouse and would have sat there another month if I hadn't called to check on it. When I asked her to at least tell me when it would ship, she, in a not-unsarcastic tone, offered to go to the warehouse and ask them herself. I said, "Great. And here's my number so that you can call me once you know."

After hanging up the phone, I started to fester. I was mad. So I called their customer service number and spoke to Rachel. She was sympathetic and understanding. She said that she would take care of it. Then she called me back to see what size wheel our stroller had. Whah? This is where all hope of ever jogging with our stroller wheezed out of me like the air slowly escaping from the latex balloon that E brought home from this weekend's birthday party. Then I got an email that she was overnighting the part to us. Sweet...?

April 13th - The part arrived by noon. And thanks to the super nice guy from DuctWorks who signed for it while cleaning out our ducts. (And thanks to CKE for inspiring me to get my ducts cleaned!)

April 14th - Sent Rachel an email thanking her for overnighting me the - wait for it - wrong fucking part. Actually, I was really nice about it. I did thank her for trying to fix things, but then I also expressed my frustration and disappointment. All I want is to be able to go for a jog with my kids. I'd leave my kids at home, but then child services would get involved and then I wouldn't be able to go for another run. Ever again. So I really just want a jogging stroller that I can safely buckle my children into and run behind, wind blowing through my hair, dog trotting by my side. And guess what! I'm going to have one. A brand new one. As a gesture of good great-will, Kelty is sending me a brand new Speedster. Even though I told Rachel she didn't have to do that. Twice.

I still can't believe they're sending me a new stroller. I'm not even the original owner of the old stroller (nor did I pretend to be.) I am so excited. And so grateful that I spoke to Rachel, who apparently is hellbent on making sure that Kelty customers are happy. (Turns out that Kelty also owns Slumberjack, which coincidentally is the maker of E's little sleeping bag. Guess I'll know who to call if I ever have a problem with it. Rachel, that's who.)

Turns out that our stroller was about 10 years old and Kelty no longer has the parts for it. And while I still think that Mr. Kelty needs to march his ass down to the warranty department and give them the what for, I'm impressed with the customer service department and I'm impressed with the actual stroller. This is a testament to the quality of their product. Because I would have never paid $120 for a 10 yr old stroller guessed that it was 10 yrs old. And had the fender not been cracked, this thing would have spent another 10 years on the streets. Insert inappropriate hooker joke here.


*I have to admit that part of me empathizes with these guys. I imagine that it must be very difficult to live under the kind of pressure they are subjected to and to live a life of excess. I used to see it all the time when we lived back east - people who hadn't figured it out yet. That life is not about objects (whether they be cars or women or shoes) but about the people you love and the experiences you share. The material race is one that you can never win, and one that is, once closely examined, incredibly unsatisfying. It is the chinese food of the soul - sure it's tasty, but it quickly leaves you feeling empty. And when you get caught in the cycle, in the self-propelling hunger for more, there is nowhere for you to go...because you will never be the best at owning things. Now, that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate nice things. But like my brother observed the other day, it's not so much the things, as it is what I get to do with them. Yes, I'm super excited about our new tent, but because we get to go camping in that tent. And yes, I love our house and our new car, but because they make a nice backdrop for our lives. So while I understand that it must be difficult to be rich and famous and the best at something, no matter how hard it is to be Tiger or Ben or any other ego-maniacal super athlete/actor/trust-fund baby, I also know that it doesn't give you the right to act like a total asshole and stick your dick in everything that moves. And don't get me started on the whole if Ben wasn't an NFL superstar, he'd be behind bars by now for all the shenanigans he's pulled. Don't get me started.