One more thing off the list. Credit cards. Finally. We are eagerly awaiting our PR cards though. We are unable to move onwards and upwards without them. I’m not just talking about driver’s licenses, ID cards, and health cards. Important stuff like cards from leading department stores are also apparently out of reach.
We had a funny experience at such a store. For my more inquisitive friends, the name of the store rhymes with the plural form of the word ‘rear’, you know, as in buttocks.
Since my parents are due to descend upon us in a little more than a week, we were desperately looking for a sofa set that won’t gobble them up. If they sit on the one we have now, they won’t be able to get up until Christmas 2012 at the earliest. That just won’t work for any of us.
P, ever excited by a good deal, noticed that we could get an additional 40% off if we had a department store card. We asked three different people from two sections how to get this elusive magic card. At the first counter, we were presented with the literature, according to which, if we had two pieces of ID plus a Canadian credit card, we would qualify for the card. Note, this is not a store credit card we wanted. Just a store card.
There were two salespeople at the counter. One was a gentleman, solid as an Oldsmobile, well groomed with white hair slicked back to near perfection, and a matter of fact (in a pleasant way) attitude. Probably has two well behaved college going kids. He had the same understanding of the literature as we did, but had no authority to go ahead with the transaction. He remained positive that if we went to the relevant authorities, we would get help. After all, it’s just a store card.
The other was a lady, slightly frazzled brown bob, glasses, possibly middle aged, small build, with a possibly Eastern European accent. She kept pressing down the sides of the pamphlets almost like she was trying to iron the already flat papers.
She was quite excited to get our application. Until she realized that we had an international driver’s license, not a Canadian one, and that our other ID was a passport (two picture IDs). We did have the Canadian credit cards (finally!!). Then she asked if our PR cards or health cards had come. Nope. She quickly grabbed back the literature and clutched it to her chest.
The lady looked at us with sympathy, shook her head in a ‘tsk tsk’ motion, and told us she could not help us. The man quickly told us to go to another counter that should be able to help us, as there was no harm trying. But the woman kept shaking her head and saying ‘oh no, you won’t get it’ and she looked at us with wide eyes, rimmed with pity, like we were told there were no more life boats on the Titanic.
So off we went to the counter they suggested, only to find that we could not apply there but the nice lady there gave us loads of catalogs to look at with more sofas on offer at better prices. She also kept Lanes entertained with a catalog on toys. She and Lanes were having their own fabulous conversation so we got to do a lot of research.
After that we went to yet another counter. This one manned by another lady in a sweater set and glasses. This time with a black bob and Chinese accent. We had the same conversation as with the first lady, and when we came to the part where we said our PR cards were in the mail, she took the literature from us, cradled it in her hands like it was sacred and possibly tainted by us, and flatly refused when P asked if we could have it to read the information.
She reverently placed it back in the rack, wouldn’t look us in the eye and stepped back. I think she might have held her breath so as not to catch the new disease called ‘migrantitis’, something in the same family as leprosy. It was all too hilarious for us to be offended, so P and I left quickly before we burst into laughter.
It all turned out ok in the end because we were going to the mall a few days later and stumbled upon the outlet of the store in question and got a fabulous deal on a sofa. The icing on the cake was that we got it delivered in three days rather than the two week minimum we were given at the main store.
Meanwhile this week has been long since Lanes has decided to try out her mischievous side. Note the euphemism. She has become a downright terror. So much so that I was debating putting some holy water on her to see if that would set her right. She has become one shrieking, climbing, jumping, pulling hot mess. I need an intervention with her. Where is Olaf????????? I think the terrible threes are here. I think I need back up. I think she is the new sheriff in town.
Meanwhile I’m battling to stay sane and keep calm. Lanes has also stopped calling us Mamma and Daddy. We are now “mom” and “dad”. She sort of rolls the words around her mouth, really enunciating them. Still sounds odd to our ears. I guess it’s a step up from being called by our first names: ) So I’m exhausted after all the drama by our mini diva. Will post more soon…
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