Online order ends overcoat ordeal

Now, of course, my coat will turn up.
Last winter, on a chilly night in March, I found myself covering the Jay County Chamber of Commerce annual awards banquet at the high school.
Actually, though I was there with a camera and a notebook, I was hoping that the daily newspaper would be named Business of the Year. The Commercial Review has been around for something like 145 years and may be the longest running business in the county’s history.
But the Ritz Theatre had something special going for it: A very cool new marquee.
There was no way we could compete with that, and the Ritz walked to a well-deserved victory.
Arriving at Jay County High School for the banquet in the commons, I put my wool overcoat on a table with a couple of dozen others.
It was a dressy occasion, so I was wearing a jacket and tie. And the wool overcoat was more appropriate than the down-filled, worst-of-winter coat or my battered-but-insulated leather jacket.
The banquet went smoothly, though chamber executive director Dean Sanders and I agreed afterwards that the proceedings could have been speeded up a bit.
The biggest challenge, I thought, was rounding up all the award winners at the end for photos. That was tough, but it was nothing compared to finding my overcoat.
It wasn’t there.
Someone — completely innocently, I am sure — walked off with my coat that cold night. By the time I got to the table, there was one coat left. It was not mine.
The chamber put out an all-points bulletin, and I may have even written about the missing coat in a column.
But nothing turned up. Weeks passed. Months passed. Nothing turned up.
And then, this fall, it started to turn cold.
Specifically, on Oct. 3, it was windy, chilly, rainy and looked as if the skies might deliver some snow.
It was time to search for a replacement.
Once upon a time, that would have meant a trip to see Leo Glogas at Lee’s Men’s Store in Dunkirk or Jim Ramsey at Ramsey’s Men’s Store in Portland or the folks at Stan’s in Berne.
But those are not the times we live in; all of those retail outlets are gone.
I turned, reluctantly, to the Internet.
Now, I am no rookie when it comes to shopping on the Internet.
Over the past couple of decades, I’ve purchased more than my share of stuff from Amazon and on eBay.
But an overcoat struck me as a different story. It had to fit, for one thing.
My wife steered me to the Macy’s site, and much to my surprise in a matter of minutes I’d identified a coat that looked appropriate for a mature (i.e. old) guy like me, was the right length, was the right size and was actually less expensive and better quality than the one that disappeared at the chamber of commerce awards banquet.
I clicked on it. Not only that, but my wife had a promotional coupon that lowered the price even more. Wow. Zipping through the Internet shopping experience I felt like George Jetson. George Jetson in a new overcoat.
And then I hit a snag.
Though the website featured the coat, when it came time to consummate the deal, I was told it was unavailable.
Irritated, I did what any man my age would do: I asked for my wife’s help.
She steered me to a chat with an invisible functionary at Macy’s. Soon I was typing away (under an assumed identity, having signed on as my wife) and asking about the doggoned overcoat.
Again I was told it was unavailable. Is it available at any Macy’s stores? How about Muncie? Nope. How about Fort Wayne?
“Is that in Indiana?” came the reply.
Last I knew, I responded.
Then the invisible functionary found it. The Fort Wayne store had the coat.
So what do I do? I asked, hoping that I could just click the mouse and be done with this.
Call the store, was the answer.
In the end, my wife called the store, straightened things out and got the overcoat ordered.
All I know is, I’m sending someone else to cover the chamber of commerce awards banquet next year. And if my old coat should show up at this late date, it’s going directly to Goodwill.