Saturday morning, April 25. The eve of my major move off the mountain, exactly 17 days after VST left. We were standing, three grieving amigos, at the appliance counter of a major chain hardware store (Not Home Depot. Just sayin). Along with all my other equally pressing decisions, my new home, Winterpast, needed appliances.(King Solomon 2:10-14) Frig, range, dishwasher, washer/dryer. VST and I made the decision that all appliances would be replaced before we moved in, and I intended to carry through.
I knew exactly what I would get. My VC range was heavenly, and I wanted that exact model. The Frig needed to have the freezer on the bottom, with french doors on top. The dishwasher needed to have a food grinder and heated dry cycle. The washer and dryer needed to be full size and pretty. Kitchen stainless, washer/dryer white. As we stood in the appliance section waiting for someone to help us, I made most of my selections shortly after walking in. As the kids wandered and wondered how I would choose, I already knew what I wanted. But, what I wanted most was to get back to VC and prepare for the movers to arrive the next morning.
I had already gone through Round One with this store. Four days before, I had done the right thing and called to cancel VST’s credit card. Here is a little history.
VST and I loved remodeling things together. It was our happy spot. He had an eye for what could be and knew just how to create beautiful spaces. I could describe something to him, and he would take the idea to the next level, creativity resulting with awe inspiring projects. It took us both. It was not without a fair share of bantering, arguing, stalemates, and compromise. But, in the end, every project was a work of beauty and we looked for the next.
For the first two years in VC, I worked while VST was at home alone, with one huge project in mind. My dream kitchen. I knew that if I didn’t work, the kitchen would be put on hold. For once, I wanted to earn a project myself. I wanted to pay for every shim and handle with my own paycheck. The kitchen had been abused by the previous owners, who had cooked for their restaurant frying with peanut oil. It was a given when we bought the VC house, that the kitchen would need to be replaced, and so the project began.
VST had gone to the Carson City major chain hardware store (not Home Depot, just sayin) and in minutes, had a sufficient line of credit. Alone. Without my signature. We thought nothing of it. We had wanted the store card for the additional discount we could apply when buying cabinets, granite, installation, and all the other items needed. The limit was perfect for our kitchen budget and we went to work. Over six years, we used the card for every project we tackled on the house, always being glad we had it. We never paid a cent of interest. One of VST’s golden rules.
Getting back to me. Widowed. Clueless. Very new to the tricks of cancelling my late husband’s financial life, this chain hardware store (Not Home Depot. Just sayin) would not be helpful.
Days before the appliance purchase, seated at a mound of paperwork, to-do’s and had done’s, I called. After punching an endless amount of numbers to route me to the correct department, the dance started. I explained that I had an account, my husband had died, and I needed a replacement. The associate pounced on that.
“His account is now closed. The closing bill will arrive in 5-7 working days.”
Wait, I thought in utter disbelief. Miscommunication here. No, No, No. I need a new card to purchase the appliances on Saturday for the new house. I want the minuscule discount. Wait. It was MY work that let us pay off the kitchen. Wait just a minute.
“This account was in the name of the decedent, alone. You are welcome to apply for a new card of your own online. Sorry for your loss. Goodbye.”
I stared blankly at the phone. They didn’t just do that. No! But, yes. They did.
Going online, I filled out the screen properly, assuming that the computer would crosscheck any prior activity and my new account would have an equal credit limit. After all, it was MY job that allowed us to funnel My income to their chain hardware store (Not Home Depot. Just sayin). I waited for the computer to decide the fate of my credit limit.
My limit flashed on the screen.
$500.
This wouldn’t cover the washer I selected, let alone all the appliances. So I called back the chain hardware store plead my case(Not Home Depot. Just sayin).
“Just inquire at the store when you go to make your purchase. Perhaps the store manager will agree to raise your limit. Sorry for your loss. Goodbye.”
Back to Saturday. The kids were in shock at the speed in which I could rack up a huge bill on appliances. We had not discussed the fact that I had already picked these out in my head, as the buying frenzy occurred. A five minute walk through appliance heaven, and my order was complete. Now came the bill and method of payment.
I presented my shiny new Lowe’s credit card. Of course, I tried. With a puzzled look, the associate whispered, “This will cover $500. Do you have any way of covering the rest?”
I was handed the phone after requesting the store manager. I pleaded my case, and was then connected to Credit Customer Service. To which the answer was…
“At this time, your credit limit is $500. Sorry for your loss. Goodbye.”
It was then I found a wee bit of happiness and hilarity at this very moment. I smiled a sweet smile as I reached into my purse. The kids, not knowing how I would handle this situation, were quietly horrified. What was I reaching for???
And there it was. Platinum Visa. Financial solvency does have its rewards. I had wanted my own replacement card to honor the memory of VST. But, this would work just fine. I thanked the girl and we left. I am quite sure she wondered how this old, widowed woman in torn jeans and a tee pulled that off at the appliance counter on a Saturday morning at the major chain hardware store (Not Home Depot. Just sayin).
The moral of the story is this. Whatever you do, think before you start canceling your husband’s financial standing. Get your ducks in a row. Because, the minute you start, it is a constant response of “Canceled. Sorry for your loss. Goodbye.” Remember that the associates that are helping you are just doing their job. They didn’t write the crazy rules. They may be dreaming of a day they no longer need to work at a chain hardware store (Not Home Depot. Just sayin). Remember that there are many paths to get to a final destination. Be determined and persevere.
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