So Remember How My Dress Caught on Fire?

It didn't leave a terrible mess. Maybe a few ashen streaks, but because the stress is striped the streaks were not terribly noticeable. I could have worn the dress without anyone knowing that it had ever been on fire, but I would obsess over the dark streaks.

I decided to have it dry cleaned, just in case the ashen marks could be removed by some heavy duty cleaning process.

I dropped it off on Monday, and they told me it would be ready on Thursday, which was fine given that I need it for next week for LondonandValencia! but not until Tuesday night, when I will be spending three hours packing.

In spite of the three bags of groceries I was carrying and the fact that I kept dropping my hoodie on the ground every three steps, I opted to pick up the dress last night.

I dropped my groceries on the floor and handed the girl my ticket.

She presented the dress, and I looked at the problem area only to find that...

THE DRESS HAD BEEN RUINED.

I maintained my composure. "Um, I'm sorry, but this wasn't here when I dropped the dress off."

The original ashen marks had been replaced by GIANT STAIN MARKS. You know how when you spill water on a piece of clothing the entire area looks darker than the rest of the garment? Yeah, that's what it looked like. Giant splotches of darker-than-the-rest dress, and in a perfect pattern.

"Yes, it was."

"No, actually, it wasn't," I said. I took the dress out and touched the stains. The stains were a bit sticky, as though they had put stain remover on the dress and had forgotten then to wash it.

"It was like that when you brought it in."

"No, it wasn't."

"It was."

"Listen, the dress had small ashen marks... very small... and no stains. This has stains, big ones, and this was $100 dress."

"It was like that when you brought it in."

Now, I can't even be sure that this was the same girl to whom I'd dropped the dress off. And even if she was, like she remembers! And even if she was, the customer is always right!

"No, it wasn't. I'm not paying for this and I'd like you to clean it again."

"But it was like that when you brought it in."

"Listen, the dress was not ruined when I brought it in and now I can't wear it ever again. Please try to clean it again."

She took it back, exasperated, and gave me the evil eye.

I left, fuming.

I am mad for a variety of reasons.

1. I love that dress. Madly. It's probably my favorite dress of all time. It fit, it's comfortable, it's wonderfully summer-y and perfect for my upcoming travels. I have matching shoes that are also comfortable. I love it love love it. It is hard for me to find clothes that fit and that dress fit. It fit perfectly. I love it.

2. They destroyed my perfectly wearable dress.

3. They blamed me and called me a liar.

4. They were unremorseful. Completely and utterly unremorseful. No "Oh, my! We're so sorry! Let us see what we can do to fix it!" Instead "It's your fault, you're insane, you brought it in this way and are blaming us."

5. They didn't make any suggestions. None. They just want my $6 and want to be rid of me. I maintained my composure the whole time but man did I want to slap this girl accross the face. I didn't throw a fit. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't cry when I saw my ruined dress. I calmly explained myself and then asserted myself until they took the dress back.

I walked home, lugging my groceries in the insane heat and tried not to cry. I was so angry, not about the dress but about the way I was treated.

I called MG immediately so that I could hear someone say "How dare they!" and she did.

MG was in traffic and had to get off the phone, so I called Mother. Mother didn't even know that my dress had caught on fire. "That's not the point of this story!" I said and told her about my dress. She empathized, and soon I was wailing about how much New York City sucks and how this city and this intolerable heat make people irritable and insane and how people pass tension on from one person to another. Mother suggested that I call the store or try to buy the dress again, so I did.

I called one of the stores and described my dress. They had none left. This girl, however, was a nice employee and called all of the other stores on my behalf and none of them had the dress. She suggested I order it by phone, and suggested that I could have it shipped overnight. I decided to do this, because the most I would be out (should the dry cleaner salvage the dress) would be the cost of shipping, which would be like $20 since it was from NYC. And, it was worth it to me to buy another dress because I love the dress and that's that. The sad thing was that it was such a deal at $100 in a fancy SoHo shop and I'd also bought the original tax-free. But whatever. I must have the dress.

When D came home, I snapped at him because he bought mayonnaise. We'd had this long conversation earlier in the day during which I said I'd go grocery shopping after work since he was sick, and that he was not to buy anything, including mayonnaise. He walked in, chipper, and said "I got the mayo!" and I was like "BRING IT BACK!" Awful. I apologized moments later for transferring my irritability onto him, and explained the saga.

He empathized and tolerated my swearing and he even hit the wall on my behalf, I think to encourage me to do so. I didn't. I just said "I hate people," and he said "I think it might be time to move."

I gave him a big kiss. "I could move tomorrow and not even look back," he said.

"Let's move in nine months when the lease is up."

"To Boulder?"

"I don't care. Anywhere but here."

I called to order the dress this morning, and the man on the phone was very sweet and helpful and is having the dress shipped today, with the inventory, to the store around the corner from where I work. I can pick it up at 6:00. No shipping. And I can return it to the store for a cash refund. Sweet.

In the meantime, I will pick up the original dress at the laundromat and if it still ruined I will indeed throw a fit and ask to speak to the manager as per MG's suggestion (I am so not a "Can I please speak to your manager" person) and present the receipt for my dress (which I bizarrely still have) and will ask them to reimburse me.

If they do not reimburse me, I will make a bunch of signs that say things like "THIS PLACE RUINS YOUR CLOTHES" AND "DO NOT DROP YOUR DRY CLEANING OFF AT THIS MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A LAUNDROMAT!" and will plaster them all over the outside of the laundromat. I will also stop people from going in there whenever I am walking by. There has to be some sense of justice.

I am learning, though, that there is no sense of justice in New York, and that is why everyone is antagonistic to everyone else and why people don't care at all that they've ruined people's clothes.