Timely delivery washes away frustration

The dreaded two-hour window.

The phrase entered my life again recently after I bought a washer and dryer. How quickly the excitement of shiny new appliances wears off when you hear those words.

"The delivery guy will call you in the morning to give you a two-hour window."

It's not that I had anything terribly important going on. I work at home; I didn't have to take a personal day or trade shifts.

It was the idea that I'd be a hostage in my own house. I requested a morning delivery, but they couldn't guarantee it.

My fate was in the hands of other people getting stoves, big-screen TVs, a new refrigerator. I know from experience that the "two-hour window" is merely a suggestion, like traffic lights in South America.

What if your business operated this way? What if you told your clients, "I will be at your office between 1:30 and 3:30 p.m. tomorrow."?

And if you didn't show up because you were caught in traffic, or stopped for a cherry limeade slush at Sonic, wouldn't it be great if they had to wait for you anyway?

What if buses gave you a two-hour window? Or the airlines? Oh wait, maybe that's not such a great example.

What if you could tell your boss, "I'll be in tomorrow between 9:30 and 11:30 a.m."? Now we're talking.

I understand the logistics in making several stops a day. What I don't understand is why they don't call if they're running late. Once, I sat through a whole day of two-hour windows for a repairman who never arrived. Though skilled in garage-door mechanisms, he apparently was an idiot savant unable to operate a mobile phone.

I also dread deliveries and repair visits because the labyrinth that is Ahwatukee Foothills never fails to confound. My street, bless its winding heart, changes names three times based on the direction it runs.

So imagine my surprise when a nice man from Spencer's arrived early - he had a last-minute cancellation - to deliver my front-loaders and unchain my shackles. He was polite, smart (he figured out a tricky issue and solved it on the spot), and - let me repeat - early. He must own a GPS.

House arrest over, what would I do with my newfound sweet freedom? I could hike the preserve, hit the gym or spiritedly ride the local bus wearing a tiara.

But I bet you can guess what I did.

Laundry. Lots of laundry.

Geri Koeppel is an Ahwatukee resident.