Once Upon a Couch... (with pictures)

Keep in mind that I'm around 5'10"

I have been ranting about my sofa drama now for ages, or so it seems. Yesterday the drama peaked and ended, finally!

It all started with my "priority" delivery only arriving at 8pm.  I hate to imagine when they would have arrive if I wasn't supposedly priority!  Anyway, this was a problem since the building does not allow deliveries after 5pm. Of course we live in Brazil and there is always a jeitinho or two lying around, or so I hoped.

When the doorman phoned saying that a maintenance man was going escort one of the delivery men up, I knew I was in a bit of trouble. I would need to be pathetic and persuasive all at the same time. I decided to go with my true ally in situations like this, my Gringa status.

For some reason it is very easy to convince Brazilians that you are totally confused as to how things work. I don't know if I should be offended by this fact, but it does come in handy sometimes. I busted out such a show that I should be nominated for an Emmy, or at least an MTV spaceman.

When the annoyed Maintenance guy got there, I was first "surprised" that there was a time limit when it comes to deliveries. Since I'm a foreigner, I had no idea these kinds of rules even existed! That and I had spoken with the delivery people throughout the day (so I said) and the poor guys had been stuck in traffic. Damn holidays and everyone on vacation. It is madness out there (an always acceptable excuse in a big city).

I then went for the pity. I told him that I understand that rules are rules but if the couch was not delivered at that moment there was no way I'd get it this year. I told him that I have guest arriving and I plan to sleep on the couch during their visit. I claimed desperation, which was true, and asked if he could ask the building manager if I could pay some sort of fine or something. I begged for him to see if there was something, ANYTHING, we could do to make this happen.

After they went back downstairs, and the judges met for a final evaluation of the situation, jeitinho won. The building manager was so stressed about the no water situation, the building didn't have any yesterday, that the doormen/maintenance men decided that my couch could slip by unnoticed.

I'm sure when they made that decision they never imagined my sofa would get caught in the stairwell. Hell, the delivery men even took the stairwell doors off, another situation I doubt they imagined happening at that time of night.

So there we were, all looking at the stuck couch, when my Brilliant friend came to the rescue. She convinced them to take it all apart. I don't know if she gave some sort of pep talk or what, but they did just that. Fabric was removed from the bottom, staples taken out, and a HUGE mess made at the end of the hall.

Taking it apart in the stairwell

Come 930pm, I was starting to get worried. The delivery men were seemingly enjoying the quasi-demolition aspect of the job but would they remember where everything went? Would it even go back together seeing that this specific couch apparently doesn't come apart in the first place?

Bye bye fabric

Then around 10pm my front door opened. Did you know that my couch is made of plywood? Well, I do now as that was what they started bringing in. Pieces of wood, some fabric, and a big ass wood staple gun.

I will say, these men were damn impressive! They came into my living room and took all the random pieces I couldn't even imagine would make a couch and made it happen. I watched as they took over my living room, flipping pieces over and drilling/stapling the crap out of them.

Somewhere around 1130pm, it was looking like a couch. And right before midnight I signed the delivery papers and they were on their way.

It was a marathon but in the end it worked. Thank goodness for jeitinho!! 

What License Plate?!

Anyone who follows my blog on Facebook knows that I bought a dryer. I am over the moon. It is like losing my virginity with an orgasm, that is how long I have been waiting for this moment.

Of course, with that moment came the task of getting rid of my still good washing machine. It's 6 years old and washes, coincidentally, 6 kilos at a time. The first person I thought of giving it to is my twice a week maid. After years of conflict with her asshole (my word for him) father of her children, she is without a washing machine. He took it out of their place after she left him, like a fine young gentleman.

So I called Socorro (Portuguese for help but that is her name: Maria de Soccorro) after I purchased the new one. I told her that my washer is hers and, if possible, I would love it if she could bring my old one home the next day. She had it all arranged when she arrived this morning at my home.

Come 3pm, the pick up guy arrived with his truck. I had instructed the administration of my building that he would be coming and gave permission for his truck to enter the building to carry out our washing machine. The catch, he refused to identify himself to the doorman.

What?! Refuse to identify yourself and your car? Yes, we all know that many "movers" are not necessarily registered with the city. Socorro tried to explain this to him, that the building only required him to check in for the security of the people who live there. Regardless, he refused. I told her that I would personally go down and drive in with him. He drove away before I could get there.

That makes me think, what is this man avoiding? Socorro laughed. She said he was old, confused, and a little too cautious. I personally wonder why this man is avoiding identification.

To clear things up, I'm not really "worried." I don't think he's going to show up at my place with a gun and take my tv and fridge. He's like 65 yrs old and a friend of my maid. But the fact that he refuses to let my building write down his license plate number is something to make an American girl laugh.

The thing is that Brazil is changing because of the games coming here. Those who work with jeitinho, ie. not registered moving companies, may be concerned that they will be punished. Of course it's not like he's delivering to the US Consulate. Even then, I doubt they would say anything. Every country has their own way of running, and under the table help is nothing new to Brazil.

But I wonder if me being American and living in a heightened security building was enough to make this man not want the extra cash. Either way, Socorro and I had a laugh at the confusion .

Note to self, if I should ever have CIA access to foreign info, I would love to look up some of these peeps... just to see why the license plate info is so damn important.

Has this ever happened to you? 

Wordless Wednesday: Jeitinho

Who needs duct tape! 

Jeitinho Strikes Again

This picture is my own fabulous photography. Mad skills, I know.

So we went to Plebeu in Botafogo for lunch today. AMAZING food! Anyway, I totally forgot that they don't have highchairs.  Why, I'm not sure.  So we were at a loss for a moment. How were we going to enjoy the holiness of their divine Picanha with a wiggly toddler on our laps.

That's when genius hit!  On our way upstairs, we passed the stacks of plastic chairs they use outside. Since the place wasn't full enough to stick people on the sidewalk, the chairs were just hanging out in a corner.

When approached about the chair stacking/highchair making plan, the waiter was not impressed. It had so been done before.  Still, we feel pretty damn smart.

So 5 plastic chairs later and the tiny toddler had his own place at the table.

Gold Star for creativity! 

Missing jeitinho

I am having a serious case of the missings.  What am I missing?  Jeitinho!  Jeitinho, if you do no know already, is a sassy Brazilian way of bending laws, rules, and boundaries.  While it's not always the best thing for a government, it's pretty awesome using it day to day.

You see, I'm in the US, the consumer capital of the world.  I would like to buy things. Normally, that is not a problem, unless you want something you need a prescription for.

I, myself, would like to stock up on contacts. I can save a pretty penny buying them here. I basically get 4 boxes for the price of 1 back in Brazil. Awesome! So, I talked to my Brazilian Optometrist and got him to write my Rx out exactly like Americans do. Everything was perfect.

That was, until, I spoke with 1800 Contacts. It appears that the contacts prescribed for my right eye are discontinued.  No, they can not switch it to another brand. No they do not want my money.

Helly! Jeitinho? Switch it. What's the big deal!  I even went into Walmart and asked there. They were going to just switch it but the computer wouldn't let them add my doctor. Again, Jeitinho! I don't know about them, but when I worked in sales, I made the sales happen.  Get creative. Put a local number.  Mess with the address a bit.

Of course my All American family reminds me they could get in trouble for doing that. Why?  Because I'm going to get high off my contacts? Oh no, wait, it was an excuse to charge me $200 for another check up, just to make sure they could switch to an equivalent.

Youuuu Whoooo, I'm the buyer here.  My Doctor isn't the one who should decide the brand, I should. I should be able to switch based on saving a dollar or getting a free sticker if I want.  It's like prescription and generic.

Oh well. 1800 Contacts, you can kiss your $100 goodbye.  I'm taking me, my crappy eyes, and my Brazilian Rx to a small local Optometrist and see if I can Americanize the jeitinho and get me some cheap contacts.

Brazilian Jeitinho: A home visit

Check out the jeitinho of my husband.  I couldn't get the gate to stay up.  He managed...

The Brazilian jeitinho is an art form.  It means "way" but basically signifies maneuvering in a creative manner, usually bending or breaking the rules. 

This phrase is not only used to define certain governmental practices but also things in everyday life.

My husband displayed a wonderful example of Jeitinho Brasiliero with his putting up of the baby gate.  Looks normal up top, right?  Check out below

 

Is that what I think it is?

Why yes. A cork is a versatile object after all.