And that salesperson couldn’t find one either. They found a third salesperson; no dice. I think at that point that other salespeople started gravitating towards my mother, just to see what was going on (“I was nice about it,” she tells me, “but I had decided that I wasn’t leaving without that rebate form”), and every time someone new joined the crowd she had to tell the story again (“to the point where the others just started chiming in, too.” I love the idea of half a dozen salespeople just following my mother around like a Greek chorus. “And he woke her daughter up, too! Didn’t call in advance like he was supposed to!” “And then he said, ‘It says ‘Leave in carton,’ I can’t do nothin’ but that!’”). So we’re up to eight or nine salespeople, all following my mother around the Sears electronic department in a desperate search for a rebate form for a Sony high-definition TV, and finally we’re up to the Senior Electronics Manager and he doesn’t know what to do, either.

“I think,” says the Senior Manager, hesitantly, “we’re going to need to get… Gerald.”

The other salespeople look at each other. “Gerald?”

“I think… I think we’re going to have to.”

“Gerald,” they whisper.

“COD, please come to electronics,” the Senior Manager says, quavering, over the PA.

Some ten or fifteen minutes later, Gerald arrives. It turns out that he’s head of—all of Sears at this mall, I believe? My mother describes him as a very stately, polished man; the way she did his voice, I immediately started imagining Laurence Fishburne, and I suggest you do so as well. “How Can I Help You, Ma’am?” asks Gerald.

My mother explains the situation. Again. She shows him the paperwork where, clearly circled, is the passage about hooking up the TV to the primary input cable, which the delivery men did not do, even though she had paid $65 for them to do so. Didn’t call, came even before business hours, woke her daughter up, leave in carton, etc.

Gerald scrutinizes the papers. “It Does Indeed Say That. You Should Be Reimbursed… I Agree. Did You Not Receive A Rebate Form?”

“They didn’t give me one, no,” says my mother.

“We Will Have To Rectify That Situation.” He turns to the original salesman that she consulted when she came in; the original salesman may or may not have wet himself. “We… we can’t find a rebate form.”

Gerald stares down at the salesman from on high. There may be scorn in his inscrutable gaze, my mother’s not sure. “Why Did You Not Just Put A Credit On Her Card?”

“We—can do that?”

“Do That.” He turns to my mother and says, “Please, Let Me Know If I Can Be of Any Further Assistance.” And then Gerald re-ascends into the heavens.