Story - The Sofa Story

My mom was like that with receipts and paper work. When she died, going
through her paperwork was amazing!! She had a little scrubber thing for
counters and bathtubs, etc. that she had the box AND receipt for. The
store had gone out of business some time ago, but there it was, taped to the
box.

She had wall to wall carpeting replaced just the same way. Almost 20 years
after it was installed, with the lifetime guarantee, she got the same "if
only you had kept the invoice and guarantee certificate" we could replace it
free. In about 30 seconds, out came the paperwork; in about a week, in came
the new carpeting.

She dated everything that she bought, and we kids laugh every time we use
something of theirs that is dated. The other day, I needed to staple some
fabric to a board, and took out the stapler bought on 4-2-91.

She had the mortgage papers for their first house, bought in 1958..just in
case, I guess, there was some question as to whether or not they had ever
paid it off, even though we as a nuclear family, lived in two houses after
that.

We have learned that lesson from her. The papers don't really take up much
space...we need a filing cabinet anyway, so another couple of folders
doesn't matter.



"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the door.

My mom was like that with receipts and paper work. When she died, going
through her paperwork was amazing!! She had a little scrubber thing for
counters and bathtubs, etc. that she had the box AND receipt for. The
store had gone out of business some time ago, but there it was, taped to the
box.

She had wall to wall carpeting replaced just the same way. Almost 20 years
after it was installed, with the lifetime guarantee, she got the same "if
only you had kept the invoice and guarantee certificate" we could replace it
free. In about 30 seconds, out came the paperwork; in about a week, in came
the new carpeting.

She dated everything that she bought, and we kids laugh every time we use
something of theirs that is dated. The other day, I needed to staple some
fabric to a board, and took out the stapler bought on 4-2-91.

She had the mortgage papers for their first house, bought in 1958..just in
case, I guess, there was some question as to whether or not they had ever
paid it off, even though we as a nuclear family, lived in two houses after
that.

We have learned that lesson from her. The papers don't really take up much
space...we need a filing cabinet anyway, so another couple of folders
doesn't matter.



"Kathy N-V" wrote in message
. giganews.com...
We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the door.

Wow!! Cooooool. Now I know why we save every receipt for all big ticket
items we buy. I'll bet the managers at that store were surprised as hell
that your hubby pulled out that receipt from 16 years ago!

--
Kandice Seeber
Air & Earth Designs
http://www.lampwork.net

When DH and I first got together, I had _white_ sofas. Perfectly fine for
a
single woman and her Cairn Terrier, but not even a little bit appropriate
for
people who often eat while lounging in front of the TV. After my charming
toddler goddaughter got pizza all over the sofas, I decided that the white
sofas had to go. Forever.

By then DH and I were engaged, and I figured that he deserved some input
into
what was going to be "our" living room furniture. Bad move. I discovered
that DH has some real wierd preferences in upholstered furniture. His
first
choice was a dead ringer for his mother's parlor furniture (ugh). Then I
discovered that he wanted (1) recliners built into the sofa, (2) no
leather,
suede or anything that had "that smell" (3) chairs and sofas so wide that
I
got lost in them. Eep.

Somehow we got sofas that fit all his criteria that weren't totally
horrible,
especially once I custom ordered the fabric. And after we painted the
room,
and I went to Germany to get proper curtains, the living room actually
looked
nice.

Oddly, when we bought the furniture, DH absolutely insisted that we buy
the
"extended lifetime warranty" on them. I believe that they are a total rip
off and said so. However, he pointed out that we were spending $2,000 on
two
sofas, so the extra hundred bucks was really pin money. The warranty only
covered the frame and mechanisms, and in my experience, it was the fabric
on
sofas that croaked first.

Anyway, fast forward to now. The fabric on the sofas has completely held
up,
even though children are draped across it 24/7. It looks brand new, and
doesn't even need cleaning. (I steam clean it once in a while) But the
frames and mechanism have "issues." Being the cheap so-and-so that I am,
I
decided to wait until the sofas totally destructed before I went to the
bother of buying new sofas. After all, lifetime warranty or no, we got
more
than 16 years out of these things, and I figured the $100 warranty was
long
over.

Then my mother came over for lunch this past week. Of course the big sofa
decided that it was the perfect moment to die. Mom ended up with her
behind
on the floor. I covered up as best as I could, and told Bob that we were
going to have to cough some money for sofas, and probably soon.

That night, Mom called, almost in tears. God bless her, she thought we
had
the old sofas because we are too poor to afford new ones. She wanted to
take
some money out of her retirement account to buy me new ones. Egads. I
naturally refused, and told her that it was merely intertia that kept me
from
buying sofas. She made me promise I would have it fixed or replaced, and
that if I need money, I would tell her. (a total lie, BTW. I'm not going
to
rob my mother's retirement account for any reason)

So DH and I went sofa shopping the next morning. We started out at the
same
store where we bought the sofas long ago. It's changed quite a bit over
the
years - the current styles include loose cotton slipcovers on everything,
which I don't like, because if it looks messy in the store, it's gonna
look
like drek in my house. Bob still has his strange mental block against
leather, and recliner sofas are now practically extinct in the upper
quality
lines. (Cheap furniture is a huge waste of money. It just doesn't last,
and
ends up much more expensive in the long run)

We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the door.

Big sales rep/customer rep/store manager conference. Kath lies on various
chaise lounges while we wait, and Bob fetches me a Diet Coke. They look
at
the papers and talk for a bit longer. I start to snooze, and Bob goes
over
to try and speed up the process. Finally, the group comes over to tell me
the decision:

They're sending over a technician to see if the frame of the sofa is worth
saving (I was under it, and it's totally toast), and if not, guess what we
get for free? Apparently, the warranty had some fine print saying that if
the fabric was in good condition, they had to repair or replace the thing.
The old sofas are no longer available, so they have to give us sofas of
equal
value. Amazingly, the sofa/chairs we picked out were within a hundred
bucks
of the old ones, so that would be considered an adequate replacement.

So, we see the sofa tech next week, but they've already put in my order
for
the new ones (at no cost to me, except for the extra fabric I ordered to
make
additional pillows and valances). I should have new sofas that support
adult
human beings in seven weeks. For free. Whoopee!

Free sofas... mmm. My butt's excited already.

Kathy N-V

Wow!! Cooooool. Now I know why we save every receipt for all big ticket
items we buy. I'll bet the managers at that store were surprised as hell
that your hubby pulled out that receipt from 16 years ago!

--
Kandice Seeber
Air & Earth Designs
http://www.lampwork.net

When DH and I first got together, I had _white_ sofas. Perfectly fine for
a
single woman and her Cairn Terrier, but not even a little bit appropriate
for
people who often eat while lounging in front of the TV. After my charming
toddler goddaughter got pizza all over the sofas, I decided that the white
sofas had to go. Forever.

By then DH and I were engaged, and I figured that he deserved some input
into
what was going to be "our" living room furniture. Bad move. I discovered
that DH has some real wierd preferences in upholstered furniture. His
first
choice was a dead ringer for his mother's parlor furniture (ugh). Then I
discovered that he wanted (1) recliners built into the sofa, (2) no
leather,
suede or anything that had "that smell" (3) chairs and sofas so wide that
I
got lost in them. Eep.

Somehow we got sofas that fit all his criteria that weren't totally
horrible,
especially once I custom ordered the fabric. And after we painted the
room,
and I went to Germany to get proper curtains, the living room actually
looked
nice.

Oddly, when we bought the furniture, DH absolutely insisted that we buy
the
"extended lifetime warranty" on them. I believe that they are a total rip
off and said so. However, he pointed out that we were spending $2,000 on
two
sofas, so the extra hundred bucks was really pin money. The warranty only
covered the frame and mechanisms, and in my experience, it was the fabric
on
sofas that croaked first.

Anyway, fast forward to now. The fabric on the sofas has completely held
up,
even though children are draped across it 24/7. It looks brand new, and
doesn't even need cleaning. (I steam clean it once in a while) But the
frames and mechanism have "issues." Being the cheap so-and-so that I am,
I
decided to wait until the sofas totally destructed before I went to the
bother of buying new sofas. After all, lifetime warranty or no, we got
more
than 16 years out of these things, and I figured the $100 warranty was
long
over.

Then my mother came over for lunch this past week. Of course the big sofa
decided that it was the perfect moment to die. Mom ended up with her
behind
on the floor. I covered up as best as I could, and told Bob that we were
going to have to cough some money for sofas, and probably soon.

That night, Mom called, almost in tears. God bless her, she thought we
had
the old sofas because we are too poor to afford new ones. She wanted to
take
some money out of her retirement account to buy me new ones. Egads. I
naturally refused, and told her that it was merely intertia that kept me
from
buying sofas. She made me promise I would have it fixed or replaced, and
that if I need money, I would tell her. (a total lie, BTW. I'm not going
to
rob my mother's retirement account for any reason)

So DH and I went sofa shopping the next morning. We started out at the
same
store where we bought the sofas long ago. It's changed quite a bit over
the
years - the current styles include loose cotton slipcovers on everything,
which I don't like, because if it looks messy in the store, it's gonna
look
like drek in my house. Bob still has his strange mental block against
leather, and recliner sofas are now practically extinct in the upper
quality
lines. (Cheap furniture is a huge waste of money. It just doesn't last,
and
ends up much more expensive in the long run)

We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the door.

Big sales rep/customer rep/store manager conference. Kath lies on various
chaise lounges while we wait, and Bob fetches me a Diet Coke. They look
at
the papers and talk for a bit longer. I start to snooze, and Bob goes
over
to try and speed up the process. Finally, the group comes over to tell me
the decision:

They're sending over a technician to see if the frame of the sofa is worth
saving (I was under it, and it's totally toast), and if not, guess what we
get for free? Apparently, the warranty had some fine print saying that if
the fabric was in good condition, they had to repair or replace the thing.
The old sofas are no longer available, so they have to give us sofas of
equal
value. Amazingly, the sofa/chairs we picked out were within a hundred
bucks
of the old ones, so that would be considered an adequate replacement.

So, we see the sofa tech next week, but they've already put in my order
for
the new ones (at no cost to me, except for the extra fabric I ordered to
make
additional pillows and valances). I should have new sofas that support
adult
human beings in seven weeks. For free. Whoopee!

Free sofas... mmm. My butt's excited already.

Kathy N-V

Woohoo! Mega points for DH!!!!

--
KarenK
Desert Dreamer Designs
http://members.cox.net/desertdreameraz/
Ebay Sto http://www.stores.ebay.com/desertdreamerdesigns
JustBeads: http://www.justbeads.com/search/ql.cfm?s=DesertDreamer

Woohoo! Mega points for DH!!!!

--
KarenK
Desert Dreamer Designs
http://members.cox.net/desertdreameraz/
Ebay Sto http://www.stores.ebay.com/desertdreamerdesigns
JustBeads: http://www.justbeads.com/search/ql.cfm?s=DesertDreamer

We keep a notebook with clear folders that hold each book with the receipt
attached. Any repairs also go in that folder. For years we kept the boxes
on all computer, tv electronics etc but that ended when we went mobile.

When we sold the house I gave the new owners the house notebook with all
repair receipts. The bus woners also gave us a book of all receipts and
books, warranties etc. That has really been helpful. The big thing is to
remove the old ones as you replace things.

Get to start a new one for our new house!

Susan W

"Kandice Seeber" wrote in message
...
Wow!! Cooooool. Now I know why we save every receipt for all big ticket
items we buy. I'll bet the managers at that store were surprised as hell
that your hubby pulled out that receipt from 16 years ago!

--
Kandice Seeber
Air & Earth Designs
http://www.lampwork.net

When DH and I first got together, I had _white_ sofas. Perfectly fine
for
a
single woman and her Cairn Terrier, but not even a little bit
appropriate
for
people who often eat while lounging in front of the TV. After my
charming
toddler goddaughter got pizza all over the sofas, I decided that the
white
sofas had to go. Forever.

By then DH and I were engaged, and I figured that he deserved some input
into
what was going to be "our" living room furniture. Bad move. I
discovered
that DH has some real wierd preferences in upholstered furniture. His
first
choice was a dead ringer for his mother's parlor furniture (ugh). Then
I
discovered that he wanted (1) recliners built into the sofa, (2) no
leather,
suede or anything that had "that smell" (3) chairs and sofas so wide
that
I
got lost in them. Eep.

Somehow we got sofas that fit all his criteria that weren't totally
horrible,
especially once I custom ordered the fabric. And after we painted the
room,
and I went to Germany to get proper curtains, the living room actually
looked
nice.

Oddly, when we bought the furniture, DH absolutely insisted that we buy
the
"extended lifetime warranty" on them. I believe that they are a total
rip
off and said so. However, he pointed out that we were spending $2,000
on
two
sofas, so the extra hundred bucks was really pin money. The warranty
only
covered the frame and mechanisms, and in my experience, it was the
fabric
on
sofas that croaked first.

Anyway, fast forward to now. The fabric on the sofas has completely
held
up,
even though children are draped across it 24/7. It looks brand new, and
doesn't even need cleaning. (I steam clean it once in a while) But the
frames and mechanism have "issues." Being the cheap so-and-so that I
am,
I
decided to wait until the sofas totally destructed before I went to the
bother of buying new sofas. After all, lifetime warranty or no, we got
more
than 16 years out of these things, and I figured the $100 warranty was
long
over.

Then my mother came over for lunch this past week. Of course the big
sofa
decided that it was the perfect moment to die. Mom ended up with her
behind
on the floor. I covered up as best as I could, and told Bob that we
were
going to have to cough some money for sofas, and probably soon.

That night, Mom called, almost in tears. God bless her, she thought we
had
the old sofas because we are too poor to afford new ones. She wanted to
take
some money out of her retirement account to buy me new ones. Egads. I
naturally refused, and told her that it was merely intertia that kept me
from
buying sofas. She made me promise I would have it fixed or replaced,
and
that if I need money, I would tell her. (a total lie, BTW. I'm not
going
to
rob my mother's retirement account for any reason)

So DH and I went sofa shopping the next morning. We started out at the
same
store where we bought the sofas long ago. It's changed quite a bit over
the
years - the current styles include loose cotton slipcovers on
everything,
which I don't like, because if it looks messy in the store, it's gonna
look
like drek in my house. Bob still has his strange mental block against
leather, and recliner sofas are now practically extinct in the upper
quality
lines. (Cheap furniture is a huge waste of money. It just doesn't last,
and
ends up much more expensive in the long run)

We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching
taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the
new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his
wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that
keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept
with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the
door.

Big sales rep/customer rep/store manager conference. Kath lies on
various
chaise lounges while we wait, and Bob fetches me a Diet Coke. They look
at
the papers and talk for a bit longer. I start to snooze, and Bob goes
over
to try and speed up the process. Finally, the group comes over to tell
me
the decision:

They're sending over a technician to see if the frame of the sofa is
worth
saving (I was under it, and it's totally toast), and if not, guess what
we
get for free? Apparently, the warranty had some fine print saying that
if
the fabric was in good condition, they had to repair or replace the
thing.
The old sofas are no longer available, so they have to give us sofas of
equal
value. Amazingly, the sofa/chairs we picked out were within a hundred
bucks
of the old ones, so that would be considered an adequate replacement.

So, we see the sofa tech next week, but they've already put in my order
for
the new ones (at no cost to me, except for the extra fabric I ordered to
make
additional pillows and valances). I should have new sofas that support
adult
human beings in seven weeks. For free. Whoopee!

Free sofas... mmm. My butt's excited already.

Kathy N-V

We keep a notebook with clear folders that hold each book with the receipt
attached. Any repairs also go in that folder. For years we kept the boxes
on all computer, tv electronics etc but that ended when we went mobile.

When we sold the house I gave the new owners the house notebook with all
repair receipts. The bus woners also gave us a book of all receipts and
books, warranties etc. That has really been helpful. The big thing is to
remove the old ones as you replace things.

Get to start a new one for our new house!

Susan W

"Kandice Seeber" wrote in message
...
Wow!! Cooooool. Now I know why we save every receipt for all big ticket
items we buy. I'll bet the managers at that store were surprised as hell
that your hubby pulled out that receipt from 16 years ago!

--
Kandice Seeber
Air & Earth Designs
http://www.lampwork.net

When DH and I first got together, I had _white_ sofas. Perfectly fine
for
a
single woman and her Cairn Terrier, but not even a little bit
appropriate
for
people who often eat while lounging in front of the TV. After my
charming
toddler goddaughter got pizza all over the sofas, I decided that the
white
sofas had to go. Forever.

By then DH and I were engaged, and I figured that he deserved some input
into
what was going to be "our" living room furniture. Bad move. I
discovered
that DH has some real wierd preferences in upholstered furniture. His
first
choice was a dead ringer for his mother's parlor furniture (ugh). Then
I
discovered that he wanted (1) recliners built into the sofa, (2) no
leather,
suede or anything that had "that smell" (3) chairs and sofas so wide
that
I
got lost in them. Eep.

Somehow we got sofas that fit all his criteria that weren't totally
horrible,
especially once I custom ordered the fabric. And after we painted the
room,
and I went to Germany to get proper curtains, the living room actually
looked
nice.

Oddly, when we bought the furniture, DH absolutely insisted that we buy
the
"extended lifetime warranty" on them. I believe that they are a total
rip
off and said so. However, he pointed out that we were spending $2,000
on
two
sofas, so the extra hundred bucks was really pin money. The warranty
only
covered the frame and mechanisms, and in my experience, it was the
fabric
on
sofas that croaked first.

Anyway, fast forward to now. The fabric on the sofas has completely
held
up,
even though children are draped across it 24/7. It looks brand new, and
doesn't even need cleaning. (I steam clean it once in a while) But the
frames and mechanism have "issues." Being the cheap so-and-so that I
am,
I
decided to wait until the sofas totally destructed before I went to the
bother of buying new sofas. After all, lifetime warranty or no, we got
more
than 16 years out of these things, and I figured the $100 warranty was
long
over.

Then my mother came over for lunch this past week. Of course the big
sofa
decided that it was the perfect moment to die. Mom ended up with her
behind
on the floor. I covered up as best as I could, and told Bob that we
were
going to have to cough some money for sofas, and probably soon.

That night, Mom called, almost in tears. God bless her, she thought we
had
the old sofas because we are too poor to afford new ones. She wanted to
take
some money out of her retirement account to buy me new ones. Egads. I
naturally refused, and told her that it was merely intertia that kept me
from
buying sofas. She made me promise I would have it fixed or replaced,
and
that if I need money, I would tell her. (a total lie, BTW. I'm not
going
to
rob my mother's retirement account for any reason)

So DH and I went sofa shopping the next morning. We started out at the
same
store where we bought the sofas long ago. It's changed quite a bit over
the
years - the current styles include loose cotton slipcovers on
everything,
which I don't like, because if it looks messy in the store, it's gonna
look
like drek in my house. Bob still has his strange mental block against
leather, and recliner sofas are now practically extinct in the upper
quality
lines. (Cheap furniture is a huge waste of money. It just doesn't last,
and
ends up much more expensive in the long run)

We eventually found a set, a sofa and two stand-alone recliners in a
lovely
microfiber that looks exactly like suede (in eggplant with matching
taupe
pillows. I might reverse that, so the furniture is taupe and the
accessories
are eggplant). Price wasn't too bad, either; and it had the same
"lifetime
warranty." At this point, Bob mentioned the old sofas to the sales rep.
The
rep commented that it was "too bad we didn't keep the original sales
paperwork, or the store would have fixed the old sofas or given us the
new
ones for nothing."

To my astonishment, Bob pulled the original sales slip out of his
wallet.
Apparently, when we bought the sofas, the sales rep told him that
keeping
the
receipt was the key to the warranty. He had put the original reciept
with
our important papers, and grabbed them on a whim on the way out the
door.

Big sales rep/customer rep/store manager conference. Kath lies on
various
chaise lounges while we wait, and Bob fetches me a Diet Coke. They look
at
the papers and talk for a bit longer. I start to snooze, and Bob goes
over
to try and speed up the process. Finally, the group comes over to tell
me
the decision:

They're sending over a technician to see if the frame of the sofa is
worth
saving (I was under it, and it's totally toast), and if not, guess what
we
get for free? Apparently, the warranty had some fine print saying that
if
the fabric was in good condition, they had to repair or replace the
thing.
The old sofas are no longer available, so they have to give us sofas of
equal
value. Amazingly, the sofa/chairs we picked out were within a hundred
bucks
of the old ones, so that would be considered an adequate replacement.

So, we see the sofa tech next week, but they've already put in my order
for
the new ones (at no cost to me, except for the extra fabric I ordered to
make
additional pillows and valances). I should have new sofas that support
adult
human beings in seven weeks. For free. Whoopee!

Free sofas... mmm. My butt's excited already.

Kathy N-V