Laundry Woes: Where is my Dang Shirt?

I may have mentioned before that we routinely take my slacks and shirts to a place nearby to have them pressed. Dry Cleaning Station is the name and they are located in the Cross Creek Shopping Center at Grissom, Culebra and Tezel.
We’ve been going to this place for years and aside from a few miscues, like the times I would go in and the guy at the counter was in dispose for way more than the “be back in 5 minutes” sign on the door suggested, we have been happy with the service.

That was until about a month or two ago when some new owners or managers took the place over. The regular employees have all left and the new group can’t seem to get their act together. I have yet to go in and have my clothes ready on the day promised since this new group took over. My wife went as far as to tell the manager (or at least someone who seemed to be in charge) that we were done dealing with them. We tried another place near our house, Great Northwest Alterations, but as the name implies, they seemed to be an alteration shop more than a laundry place and between the price and the failure to deliver on-time, we were done with them after one attempt. Nice lady, though.

My wife even went as far as ironing my clothes herself but when a huge pile amassed in the laundry room, she decided that we should see if the folks at DCS had gotten their act together.

So on Thursday, I had two pair of slacks and two shirts to pick-up. I went in with my ticket and while I waited, there was a disgruntled customer in front of me upset that half his order was missing. I already knew it was a mistake to come on the day the clothes were supposed to be ready. Of course, when the guy gave up and left with only half his order, it was my turn to find out that one of my shirts was missing. Instead of taking the slacks and the one shirt that was ready, I just left it all there and opted to return Friday afternoon.

On Friday I went in and presented my ticket and the person reported that they were not done with my second shirt. I told her that it was due on Thursday. She just looked at me as if to ask, “What did you expect?“. She then told me to please come back Saturday.

On Saturday, against the better advice of my wife, I went in with ticket in hand around 10:30 to collect my order. Still no shirt. This time, the same lady told me that the people who do the pressing of the clothing don’t finish until noon, so I should come back then. Instead of ruining my Saturday, I decided I’d wait until today (Monday) just to give them extra special extended time to do the ironing of the one shirt.

Today, I walk in and the same lady tells me that they have the two pair of slacks and one of the shirts but the second shirt is not ready. She then asked me if it was due for pick-up today. I know this is where most people simply lose their cool, start throwing things around or empty a clip into the nearest ironing board, but frankly, I’m just a little too laid back for that sort of thing.

I told her that my order was due to be ready last Thursday and that on Saturday, she told me they would be done ironing my shirt by noon that day. She then changed her tune and flat out told me that the shirt was not there and perhaps I could come back later. WTH? So I asked, “What do you guys do when you lose a shirt?” She just looked at me like she was about to suggest I come back another time but then asked me if I knew what color it was. It has been so long that I had no idea what color the shirt was. So then I asked her if she could get my slacks and perhaps I could figure out what color the shirt might have been based upon the slacks it came in with. I already knew that I would never see the shirt again and there is no telling on how I am supposed to prove how much it cost to replace. For a moment, I really thought about coming up with some really fabulous color scheme to give the lady to search for, but in all honesty, I offered “maybe yellow, but I really have no idea.“

So today, we dropped off some slacks and some shirts at the Pilgrim Cleaners on Tezel at Guilbeau. I can already tell that will be a one time deal simply because they don’t offer a “press only” service.

So, any ideas?* Anyone know of a reliable laundry service nearby that can press your clothes without losing them?

*Just for the record, I can press my own shirts and pants and actually don’t mind doing it. I’m just trying to do my part to boost the economy by offering to pay for reliable service.

The Inseam Incident…

We go to these cleaners that are located just down the street from our house in the HEB Shopping center at Cross Creek (I know; I had no idea it was called Cross Creek either). Anyway, the folks there do fairly good work and the employees are generally friendly.

I have often been concerned that every time I go in and there is this one girl behind the counter, she has a really disinterested look on her face, almost to the point of rolling her eyes that I would even come in. I’ve told my wife several times that I think I am the victim of being stereotyped as a creepy middle-aged pervert or something. I mean, why else would the one girl not be friendly, when all the other employees are so nice?

Well, we may have had a break-through today. My wife texted me that I needed to pick up some stuff from the cleaners, so I went in with receipt in hand and waited while a nicely dressed gentleman, complete with blue-tooth earpiece waited for the girl to find his pants. As he waited, he occasionally chatted with his wife or mother or someone on the phone. It was really weird, as if he he just stays connected to the person on the other end and they trade occasional comments to one another. Unlimited minutes, I guess.

So the girl finds the pants and naturally, I start to move forward so I can hand her my ticket so we can get my stuff. Just then, the man says, “Wait just a second, we better take a look at these. They’ve been lost for two weeks; no telling what may have happened.“

So I’m thinking to myself that he is going to look for stains or something, but instead he grabs the pants and holds them up to his waist. Turns out they had been sent in for alterations. He looks at the girl, then looks at me, then states, “There is no way these are 32 inches, they are way too long.” I think to myself, “What say you go try them on and I’ll just pick up my laundry.“

The man then goes into some sort of rant about how they had been lost for two weeks and now, they clearly were not altered properly and by God, he had specifically told the other person they needed to be 32 inches long. As he said all this, the girl calmly walked to another counter, grabbed a tape measure and laid the pants flat on the counter. She then asked him how many inches he wanted the pants altered and he responded, “32 inches“. She then placed the tape at the top of the inseam and measured down to the very bottom of the pants leg. 32 inches, exactly.

The man then looked at her and laughed, saying, “What is this, a joke?” He then went on to tell her that you always measure from the top waistband of the pants down to the bottom of the leg. He even looked at me as if to get some encouragement.

I try not to get involved in these things, but I just looked at him and said, “Have you ever heard the term, inseam?” He looked at me like I was choosing sides or something and then started to babble on about how every fine clothing place he had ever been to, they measured the inseam from the outside pants leg starting at the top of the waist. So again I could not help myself and I said, “Okay, you know that there is about 12 inches from the waist to the bottom of your crotch, and they cut exactly 32 inches from there. If they cut 32 inches from the waist, that would put your cuffs just below your knees. Can you say Capri’s?“

The guy then muttered something into his blue-tooth device, and I suspect that was all the conversation he wanted from me. He then grabbed his pants and walked out saying that he would deal with the manager.

And with that, the girl at the counter suddenly smiled. And when she rolled her eyes at me, this time, it was to signify that the other guy was nuts. And I went home and told my wife that we have had a breakthrough in the laundry situation.

Ya gotta like that.