I thought to myself, how hard can that be? “Sure, I’ll take her.”
Babci was my wife’s mother, making her my mother-in-law. "Babci" is the Polish word for grandmother. She had seven grandchildren: five boys and two girls.
At 92 years old, she resided in an assisted living facility in Ludlow, Massachusetts.
Why did she need a new chair?
Babci was losing strength and having trouble getting out of her old, saggy chair in her apartment. Sometimes she would push on the armrests and rock forward two or three times before she could stand.
When it didn’t work, she would sigh, shake her head, and try again. It frustrated her. And I could tell it embarrassed her.
As a solution, my wife wanted to buy herself one of those high-tech chairs. When you press the right button, it lifts you up, making it easy to step out of the chair.
I scheduled a trip to take Babci to Pieroway’s, the local furniture store. Just as I was about to leave, my wife said, “Whatever you do, don’t let her see the price of the chairs.” She said that because the super fancy chairs were expensive. They cost between $2,000 and $3,000.
For Babci, the thought of paying over $2,000 dollars for a chair would seem crazy. She had only paid $4,000 dollars for her seven-room house back in 1960. She lived very frugally. Visiting McDonald’s always meant stashing condiments and salt-and-pepper packets in her purse. However, when it came to helping others, especially family members, she was very generous.
On Tuesday, I picked her up and drove to the furniture store. At the time, she was using a walker and moved slowly. Once she had safely reached the store, I ran over to the chairs and flipped the price tags over.
When she approached the chairs, the store salesman walked over and explained how to operate them.
He said, “If you press this button, it will raise your feet. If you press this one, the chair will recline. Then, to elevate you so you can step out of the chair, you can press this button.”
She sat in the first four chairs and systematically pressed all the buttons. There were six chairs she could consider.
I thought to myself, this is easy. We should be out of here in 5-to-10 minutes.
While Babci was pressing the buttons on chair four, the store salesman reappeared and said, “How’s it going? Do you have any questions?
Babci responded, “Yeah, I have a question. How much does this chair cost?”
The store salesman said, “Well, lucky for you that chair is on sale. The original price is $2,999, but this week, it’s on sale for $2,499.”
Hearing the price—$2,499—her eyes widened. She shot out of the chair as if it had suddenly caught fire.
She grabbed her walker and headed to another part of the store where traditional living room chairs were sold. She spotted one chair with a big red sign above it: Sale of the Week: $300.
She plopped down in the chair and said, “This is really comfortable. I really like this chair.”
“But that chair doesn’t raise your feet or recline. Most importantly, it doesn’t elevate you enough to step out of the chair. We need to go back to the other chairs. Try the last two chairs and pick the one you want,” I responded.
Reluctantly, she returned to the hi-tech chairs and tried the last two.
At this point, I asked, “So which chair would you like to get?”
She hesitated for a moment and said, “I can’t decide.”
Pointing to the second chair, I said, “That chair would look really good in your apartment. It’s a nice size and color.”
She repeated, “I can’t decide,” and for the third time, reiterated, “I can’t decide.”
I then said, “Okay, let’s head back to the car.” I was convinced she couldn’t get the $2,499 price out of her head.
Outside the store, Babci said, “Where are we going next?”
I said, “I’m taking you back to your apartment. I am going to play tennis.”
She responded with, “Oh, I thought we were going to go to more furniture stores.”
“Nope, we’re done. I have a tennis match at 3:00,” I announced.
I dropped her off, played tennis, and returned home. My wife greeted me with, “So what type of chair did you get?”
“No chair. It didn’t work out,” I responded.
My wife asked, “Was price an issue? Was price THE issue?”
“Yes,” I said. “Once she discovered the prices, things took a downturn.” Then I added, “But I’d like to give it another shot. I’m going to tell her the insurance company is paying for the chair.”
My wife said, “Good luck with that one.”
Round two: a week later.
While driving to the store, I spent 15 minutes assuring her that the insurance company would cover the cost of the chair.
Once at the store, she tried several chairs by sitting in them and hitting the buttons. She finally decided that chair number 2 was the one she wanted, so I said, “Great, that will look super in your apartment! Why don’t you head back to the car while I make arrangements for delivery.”
Several days later, the new chair arrived, and she loved it. She even demonstrated how it worked for several family members.
My white lie, the insurance company is paying, was worth it. Babci never again struggled getting out of the chair.
Babci thanked me, handed me a 20-dollar bill, and said, “Have coffee. It’s on me.”
Driving home, I realized that when I removed the one thing holding her back—the cost—everything became easier. Seeing the world from their perspective is essential.
Lesson learned— to move forward, identify what’s holding the person back.
© Paul B. Thornton
