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DATE FROM HELL
Burned for $2000? Guy Verdad Blogger Truth is definitely stranger than fiction in my dating life. Some guys meet hot girls without even trying--convincing them to go home with them on the first or second date. I practically have to take out a mortgage just to get a kiss. Case in point, last week I went on date with a girl who had just moved to NJ. We had a great time and made plans to get together a couple of days later. No weirdness. Two dates two days apart. At last! Someone normal, I thought. It started off well enough. The plan was to go to IKEA (not very romantic, I know, but lots of time to talk I figured) so Natalia could buy some furniture for her new place which contained nothing but an air mattress, sheets and a pillow. The short version is, neither of us remembered how IKEA works. After a few hours of wandering it's cavernous mock living rooms, bedrooms and kitchens--trying out all the chairs and sofas for comfort (she's 5'4", I'm 6'6")--we walked up to a salesperson, expecting her to take Natalia's order. She stared at us blankly. Apparently, you need to pick up all the stuff from a huge warehouse, pay for it, then bring it to a delivery area. Ooops. Naturally our notes about what Natalia wanted didn't include aisle and bin numbers, so we jogged around the place again jotting them down. Because of this, it was close to 7:00 p.m. when we hit the warehouse--a mere five hours after we'd arrived. Using the four largest, flatbed carts IKEA makes for customers we picked up several tables, a bunch of chairs, a sofa, a chaise (a French-type of sofa) and a billion kitchen items. By 8:00 p.m. we were dripping with sweat, but we'd loaded all the stuff and went to check out. The total was around $2100. Natalia slid her debit card through. There was a long pause and then...it was rejected! She tried again. No dice again. Did she have a credit card? Of course not. Why would an American who had lived in Estonia and who-knows-where-else working for aid agencies until a month before have a credit card? We guessed that the debit limit might be the problem. Well, she guessed that. I guessed she might not have any money in the account. So she tried to put $2000 on it and run it through again. Nope. She tried $1999. No again. Insisting she had sufficient funds in the account, she called the bank. After a long delay she was told (or said she was) that her limit was $1500 per day and it couldn't be changed without visiting a branch (which was conveniently located 3500 miles away in California). After hanging up we tried $1500, then $1499. All to no avail. "How about getting an IKEA credit card?" suggested the helpful cashier. Natalia went to the nearby computer terminal to apply. I jokingly ask the checkout person, "How long do you need to know a person before you loan them $2000?" "At least a day," she replied. "How about two days?" I quipped. The credit kiosk wasn't working so the checker pointed her toward another that was about a half mile away. I began packing the goods, assuming everything would soon be resolved. It was close to 9 p.m. when she came back (store manager in tow). No credit card, of course, because her cell phone had a California number but she was in New Jersey. I was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable. Was it possible I was being scammed? Another call to her bank and it became clear she only had $1200 available because of other charges the same day. She remembered a foreign debit card and managed to extract $500 from it. I step out on a limb, offering her the rest--on loan. We were about halfway to the delivery area when the manager got my attention and said quietly, "She'll still need to pay for delivery." Another $115. When we finally wheeled the cart full of breakables into the parking area, Natalia asked if I remember where we parked. I pointed to the only car left in the lot. Exhausted and starving, we grabbed a bite a Chili's before the hour-long drive home. I got a nice kiss goodnight. And she did write me a check. I'm pretty sure it'll clear. I suggested seeing a movie a few days later, but she insisted she wanted to see me before that. Moving help, perhaps?
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