Annie Dear: Good communication is the key

The Examiner

Left-hand? This is the right-hand speaking, and I want you to pay attention. I need to know what you’re doing at all times. Do I make myself clear? I am the dominant one in this relationship, and I need you to be on board with me. Clear?

Annie Dear

How often have we come across the scenario where the left-hand hasn’t got a clue?

It happened to us just this last weekend. In a fit of togetherness and non-procrastination, we thought, after 21 years, it was probably time to throw caution to the wind and get new beds around the house. Off we trotted to a well-known purveyor of such slumberific products, and we eagerly awaited their delivery.

“Now,” intoned Sir to the bright and shiny salesperson, “you will take away the current beds, won’t you?”

“Oh of course, sir”, came the reply, I thought coupled with a modicum of, "Pshaw. What a silly question to ask”.

The day arrived. We’d stripped the beds, and I even had the vacuum cleaner out ready to whisk away 21 years worth of dust bunnies, cat hair and no doubt a gazillion cat toys from the empty space our old beds would’ve left. I even figured out how to turn it on, for heaven’s sake. Anticipation was positively palpable.

The truck arrived with our new super-duper, state-of-the-art beds. Showing the driver where they were to go, we were met with, “We don’t take away the frames – they might tear up other mattresses in the truck.” Say what? As Sir was mustering his reply, I was thinking, mmm, well, how about carrying padding material in the truck so you can fulfill the retailer’s now evidently empty promise? See? Left-hand, right-hand – no connection.

“What would you expect us to do, then,” came Sir’s somewhat terse reply. “We’re looking down the barrel of our eighth decades, and we’re not really equipped, tool-wise or flexibility-wise, to dispose of them, let alone dismantle them.”

After several shrugs, and many very terse phone calls later, we bid adieu to the still loaded truck, our having refused delivery of the two items for which we had already – very dearly – paid.

So, the left-hand, a.k.a. the retailer, had no idea what the right-hand, a.k.a. the manufacturer/deliverer, was doing, and indeed had no bloody clue, did it?

Not using my exact terminology, Sir nevertheless was at his urging finest when he got back to the hapless retailer, who assured him that this was a grave error, and the deliverer should’ve taken the frames, yada, yada, yada.

So now they’re being delivered tomorrow. The retailer, himself, is going to come and take off the one headboard and remove it from the premises himself – this apparently being somewhat over-taxing to the deliverer, some hours prior to the bed delivery.  We hope. 

I don’t think I’m out of line here. After all, it’s like giving someone a recipe for a cake, supplying the receiver all the ingredients, bowls and mixers, but no oven. Like selling a car, but failing to include the steering wheel. 

Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at