so pedestrian

Shopping for furniture wasn't really in our plans today, but C and I tagged along with my mom, grandmother, and aunt when they went out to find a new couch for my grandmother's den. It was, well, enlightening.

We started off at Ethan Allen, where the saleswoman, Shelley, directed us gently through the faux rooms of the store. She seemed to know intuitively when to let us explore on our own and when to be there to answer questions for us. She directed us to the couches that best suited our needs, including the ones with shallower and firmer seats, and helped us custom-choose pieces to fit together into a set. It was all very expert -- she basically custom-fit a sofa and a super-comfortable chair to our butts, long before we ever even mentioned such mundane issues as price. But it was Ethan Allen, and everything is custom-ordered, so of course, the furniture was very expensive. We had a couple of other places to go before we made a decision.

Next, we went to Ashley Furniture. We were hardly in the door before we were attacked by a salesman there. Before he'd even pointed us to the couches, he had already explained their financing programs; clearly, the demographic of this store was different from the one we had been in a few minutes before. The young salesman didn't know anything about any of the furniture in the store. None of the pieces could be custom-upholstered; it all had to be bought as it appeared. I think we were in that store for seven minutes before we left. Quickly.

Finally, we went to Braslau's, a local furniture store. The saleswoman there was at least a bit knowledgeable about the furniture in the store, though she seemed a bit put out about helping us. I was a bit disappointed when my grandmother decided to buy a sofa and a recliner from Braslau's, rather than from Ethan Allen, but there was no denying that she spent less on the entire set than one chair from the other store would have cost.

The financing process was a hassle that involved what (to our overactive imaginations) appeared to be a booking, in a stark, sterile room surrounded by unsavory characters. C and I were convinced that at Ethan Allen, the financing process would involve warm coffee, fresh-baked elegant pastries, and a far more cordial atmosphere. In the end, I think my grandmother wound up writing a check. Far less hassle that way.

As for me, I'd've preferred Shelley.