We were supposed to take delivery on Friday. I was home well before I was supposed to, just to make sure I was there in plenty of time. I walked in the door and thought to myself, “I wonder if there is a message on the machine from the delivery service?” This would not be a story needing telling if there weren’t. Just before the timid voice of a person from the delivery service came on, my answering machine announced, “TODAY AT 10:31 A.M.” The representative then advised, “the truck didn’t come in yesterday with your bed, so we’ll need to reschedule for next week.” I immediately thought to myself, “the truck didn’t come in yesterday, and you’re calling me today, two hours before the bed is supposed to be here?” Now I’m home, I’m hungry (because I’ve put off lunch until I got home to meet the delivery folks), and I’m just a little bit angry. So I get on the phone. Lord help those people if it had been Cheryl instead of me. I’m soft spoken and reserved, Cheryl is not. But I’m pretty hot, and I calmly let the person on the other end know I am. We confirm a delivery for the next week and hang up. Suddenly it’s me and the house, no one to keep me company but my anger. So, I call Cheryl at work. I share the news with her. Now she’s angry. She calls the store where we bought the bed, but before she can editorialize, the woman on the other end interjects: “that’s unacceptable!” Somewhat disarmed, Cheryl is too stunned to immediately launch into possible remedy, and the store representative quickly interjects, “we’re going to refund your delivery charge.” Meekly, Cheryl says o.k., and hangs up. Cheryl lives for the moment when she can angrily suggest a right to someone’s wrong. How could they do it to her? How could they take this moment from her? Truth be told, she didn’t mind so much. Now it’s Monday and we’re keeping our fingers crossed once again.