So as you may know from my previous post, my sister-in-law recently had an absolutely massive surgery for breast cancer. To recap: she had the works – double mastectomy, abdominal grafting, and then full reconstruction of her chest all in one big one wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of surgery.
When that happens to someone you love, you want them to know you are thinking of them, right? Then of course it’s compounded if that person happens to be far away which she was. So Daddy Mac called FTD and sent flowers. It’s the least you can do, right? Seriously, it’s a “no-brainer” as my father would say, although with a Boston accent it would sound like, “No brainah!”
A big bountiful bouquet of multi-colored tulips were scheduled to be delivered on Tuesday, the day after the surgery. Then on Tuesday? Not delivered. Daddy Mac calls. On Wednesday? Not delivered. Daddy Mac calls again. They claimed they did deliver them, and that someone named “Walker” signed for them. The hospital said they didn’t have anyone by that name who worked there. Nice. We felt awful poor SIL in excruciating pain without anything pretty in sight. We jsut wanted her to know we were thinking about her all the time while she was going through this.
So Thursday I tried to get to the bottom of this debacle. I called FTD and gave the confirmation number. Then Ms. FTD said she wanted the phone number tied to the order. I had no idea what number Daddy Mac had used — home, work, cell? Who really cares?
Ms. FTD gets all corporate-y and says in huff, “Well, then I cannot discuss this matter with you.” WHAT? This wasn’t exactly national security. It was about FLOWERS. What does she think I am doing — hacking into some tulip order? So I guessed a phone number, and – poof – all of a sudden I was legit, no longer a nefarious flower hacker trying to steal tulips.
Then we went around and around, she stating that someone named Walker signed for them, me saying no one by that name works at the hospital, etc. Blah, blah, blah.
After half an hour of this ridiculousness, I just blurted out,
“My sister in law just had surgery for 12 hours and had both of her breasts removed! WE JUST WANT TO SEND HER SOME FLOWERS! You need to SEND THEM AGAIN!”
There was some silence, and Ms. FTD responded, “Well, we won’t be able to send tulips. We don’t have any” as if that would shut down the whole discussion. Negatory.
“That’s fine, anything is fine.”
“Well, it will be something comparable,” she assured me. Whatever.
“OK, that’s fine.” I was ready for a wilted cactus at that point.
So then she says, “We can have them delivered next Tuesday.”
Aghast, I asked, “Are you kidding? She is getting out of the hospital TOMORROW!” I was tempted to add other colorful adjectives, but by the grace of God I managed to refrain. I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt — maybe she was from Mars.
Then she said they would send them that day, but she didn’t seem too confident. I asked her to call or email once they were sent. Never heard a word.
I dreaded calling SIL that night, knowing there was no freaking way she had gotten even Charlie Brown flowers. Ugh.
Finally I called, and she started laughing. How anyone could laugh a couple of days after abdominal surgery I have no idea! “Well, whatever you said worked.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not buying it. “Really?”
“Yes, they came in a little while ago with a big huge bouquet of roses, another big bouquet of TULIPS, another assorted arrangement, AND a box of chocolates. Plus the Director of Patient Services came in with them.”
WOWZA. I have no idea what happened, but thanks, FTD. It really is the thought that counts.
LibbY