I thought we had this Dry Cleaning drama under control

Everything was going fine. I was making quite a bit of progress getting over the loss of The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude blog fodder. My new dry cleaner, boring but competent, was just another errand. They gave me nothing to work with writing wise but when you have WalMart a bloggers life is somewhat complete anyway. So I dropped the husbands shirts off on Friday and picked up his shirts from the Friday before without incident. 

I have been picking up and dropping off shirts for years and years. One thing that has never happened is a dry cleaner telling me that the heat from the shirt press can make a shirt spontaneously com-bust because it's old. I may have been born at night but not last night. This isn't an old shirt, not new but definitely not old. My dry cleaner, see I don't even have a blog name for her, told me she'd patch it for me. I'll let that sink in.....patch it.

Okay, I do not intend to send the husband off to work looking like a hobo. I mentioned to her that in all my years of getting shirts cleaned I have never seen anything like this and she assured me that it happens all the time. Really? Huh. We had a five minute discussion over this problem, actually I dragged it out to she if she was going to charge me for the shirt she blew up. She did. I left my last set of shirts with her today and now I have to look for another damn dry cleaner. One that doesn't go on vacation to China and never come back, one that doesn't loose shirts and one that doesn't blow them up.

Lesson of the day - never get to comfortable.

I never thought it would end this way

Risking the chance of blowing a gasket in my brain and smoke coming out of my ears, I will write my final post from The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files. As you know if you have been following the files, The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' have moved back to China leaving their incompetent relatives to run/ruin their business. They lost my four shirt.
I understand mistakes can be made. But am a customer, paying for a service and expect to be treated as though I have several active brain cells working simultaneously, therefore distancing myself from idiot status. In other words I know what the husbands shirts look like and I'm positive I know what size they are.
I picked up four shirts from my new dry cleaner. She's an Indian woman and easier to understand in person than on the phone. I've had conversations with her, in fact I think I've spoken to her more in the two times I've been there than I ever did at that old place. Not counting the recent yelling. She remembered our first phone conversation and knows me by name already and I think she is trying to recruit me as a volunteer salesman in my community. She's asked me to spread the word around about her Dry Cleaning. Anyone within the sound of my voice take her some dry cleaning. I don't want to search for another dry cleaner if she goes out of business.
I waited a week for the incompetent ones to call me. No call so I put the cleaned shirts in my car, these are the ones I had on the counter ready to drop off and pick up. But if you lose my shirts, I'm not going to leave you more to lose. I walked in the old place and the moment Incompetent Girl saw me she immediately gave me the four shirt she tried to pass off as mine originally. The ones that are 2 sizes to small and brown. The husband never wears brown. So I looked at her and in a loud but calm voice said,
"How many times do I have to tell you these are not my husbands shirts before you believe me?"
She responded by talking down to me,
"These are your shirt. My brother saw the sizes on the shirt you had on the counter and they are the same size as these."
So there you have, she struck a nerve, I blew a gasket, they started talking Chinese behind the counter and pointing at me. I went to my car, showed her my freshly washed and pressed shirts from my new dry cleaner and the size on each one. I looked her in her eyes and said,
"You are going to pay me for the four shirts you lost now."
And she wrote me a check.
It was a sad way to end my relationship with The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files. I never thought it would end this way.

They lost my four shirt!

They lost my four shirt! Damn it, they lost my four shirt! I went to the dry cleaners formally known as The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes and their distant relatives that took over the store lost my four shirt. I knew something like this would happen. And I knew I would be forced to find a new dry cleaner. Gah! I have things to do.
I'm in the throws of a raging sinus infection and the antibiotics aren't working. This is nothing new for me but I feel like hell. So don't give me 'four shirt' that are 2 sizes smaller than the ones I dropped off and ask me if I'm sure they are not mine. And then don't ask me that two more times, cause I'm cranky.
Now apparently these distant relatives of my beloved Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude gave my 'four shirt' to somebody else. I have to wait to see if somebody else realizes he has the wrong 'four shirt' and brings them back or decides they are nicer than the ones he dropped off and keeps them. Since I'm not scared of these new dry cleaners I told them,
"You are going to pay me for 4 new shirts if I don't get these back."
Notice there wasn't a question mark punctuating that last statement. She responded,
"Yes."
If worse comes to worse I get to go shopping. Four new shirts for the husband and I should get myself something nice too. For the trauma I've suffered and the strain on my already weakened state.
Now the good news. I got on the internets and found a new dry cleaner, not to far away. But the best part.....wait for it........the woman that answered sounded ethnic. I could barely understand her and I don't think she understood me either. I'm so stoked.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #815

I have everything figured out now. It took a while but the lights are all on and somebody's home....me. At least for this post, I'm playing with a full deck. The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' are not back yet but I can explain why.
They are Chinese. We established this fact several posts ago. And they are in China to see their new grandchild. They have been gone for months and months, it's been worrisome for me. I depend on them for blogging material. I continue to check on them by asking the various family members when I stop in for my 4 shirt. Really there is never the same person behind that counter and language barrier is exhausting. But the last time I checked they will be back after the Chinese New Year which is at the end of January.
Back over at my other blog View of Sue information has been pouring into my brain and I didn't even know it. Being part of the Blog Chain from Absolute Write I've been reading some new blogs. Our prompt this month was Winter Nightmare. I read, I comment, I go on to the next blog and do it again.
Walking out of the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes yesterday I stopped in my tracks and said,
"Ohhh." And smacked myself in the head.
I remembered reading a post about having a baby in China here at a blog called Let's Get Happy. The author explains that it is Chinese custom when a baby is born one set of grandparents arrives at the new babies parents house and stay to help out. They stay for a month, maybe two and they are there 24/7. The horror!
So I put 2 and 2 together, The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and 'her' have settled into the home of one of their children and taken over and I've estimated that they have overstayed their welcome big time.
I know I will walk in there one day and they will be back in their places with bright shining faces. I just hope I don't make a complete ass of myself and hug them and stuff. I miss them.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #6,152

I don't know where the hell he is, I don't know. The last two times I've stopped in for the husbands 4 shirt Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude hasn't been there and to make things worse she hasn't either. There have been different Asians in there each time. I blame the husband. He's decided to go with polo shirts this summer and I don't think he's going to make the transition back to dress shirts for the winter. He seems quite comfortable. So he's wearing a dress shirt once, maybe twice a week. Cutting down my visits to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes to barely two times a month.
With the huge language barrier I can't ask the "other Asians" WTF? Where are .......? I don't know their names. It's a dilemma, a worrisome dilemma. This could be the final chapter in the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files. They are a constant source of blog fodder. I can walk into that Dry Cleaning establishment and walk out with an instant post. If my beloved, nameless dry cleaners are gone for good these new people better have something weird going on.

The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude

Normally when I walk into my super efficient, Asian Dry Cleaners, I'm met with my dry cleaning waiting for me, hanging there spotless in a plastic bag with all the sleeves folded in and held together with a plastic clip doohickey. The Asian woman, that understands every other word I say, remembers me, sees me in the parking lot, hits that conveyor belt of alphabetized hanging laundry and grabs mine as "S" comes along. I pay her, tell her four more shirts and she says, "Have nice day." No small talk, which is fine with me, I pick up after work and I just want to get home to make a sandwich.
Today, she wasn't there, HE was. The one that only understands every fifth thing I say and scares me a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. Maybe I'm afraid to piss him off cause then he might kill me, kinda. The first thing that went through my mind when the Dry Cleaning door chimed me in was, "Ohh. If he doesn't kill me I'll probably get a post out of this."
I knew we were going to have a problem right from the start. My last name and an Asian accent don't mix. Seese, it sounds the same as cease, as in cease and desist all inappropriate behavior.
So by habit I said, "Seese with and "S". And then, "I have four to pick up and four to drop off."
"Are you pick up?"
"Yes, Seese with an "S".
"Ceeee?" And he emphasized with making a big "C" in the air.
"No. S E E S E. Seese with an "S"
"Are you pick up?"

I had to suppress a grin and wondered to myself, 'How far can I take this? How many more times can I say Seese with an "S" before he gets his numb-chucks out an clubs me over the head?'
Nah, I better get the shirts, I don't want to have to, dread the thought, iron this week or be thrown in a dumpster. So I did the sign language sign of writing in the air and the scary Asian dry cleaning dude produced a pen and paper.
"Ah, Seese."

Nervous American Broad

I've posted about my dry cleaners experiences before, they're some kind of Asian couple. They speak broken English to me and the other customers, but when I first walk in, before the door has a chance to chime announcing my presence I hear them speaking in their native tongue. Chinese, Japanese, Korean, I don't know it's all Greek to me. He is usually yelling something from the back while working the big shirt press. He's a scary little dude. Not because he's Asian, but because he reminds me of a Vietnamese military prison camp guard. That's not racist, is it?
I just have a vivid imagination and war movies are on the TV a lot with three boys and a husband. I'm outnumbered. He does look like he's been in a Chuck Norris movie though.
She usually gets my shirts, takes my money and tells me to have a nice day. Last week I heard her in a little room but he approached the counter.
'Oh God please don't let me say anything stupid. Say nothing, just shut your mouth, no eye contact.'
I'm my own best friend when it comes to advice.
I made it to my car with clean shirts and all my fingers. I leaned over to file away my receipt and put my purse down when I heard a gentle tapping on my window. After totally freaking myself out it was inevitable that when I turned and saw him peering in my car window that I would jump out of my seat with a "Don't Kill Me" look on my face. I think I scared the poor guy. He held up four fingers and said, "Four shirt, four?"
Words escaped me, I nodded yes and he went back into the dry cleaning facility probably muttering to himself, "Nervous American broad."