Picture this: it’s Friday night chez moi. I’ve got a huge party to go to Saturday night, so I figure I’ll stick around my apartment and relax. At some point I decide it’s toy time, like you do. I reach over to my bedside table and I grab my new Leo and my Eroscillator (which has permanent pride of place on my bedside table, it’s that good). I flip the thing on to the first setting and…nothing. I am confused. I flip it back into the off position. Then I try again. Still nothing. I push it up to the second setting and BAM, it springs to life. Wait, what? That’s right, the first setting has kicked it, but everything else was still working. I don’t know what trickery of wiring made this particular malfunction possible. Keep in mind that I am a wuss and I only ever use the thing on the first setting, very occasionally the second for short bursts, so this is a BRUTAL development.
In a fit of panic, I email the address given on the Eroscillator website. Their returns page says they have a one-year warranty, but I’m not sure I qualify, since I purchased my Eroscillator from EdenFantasys, not directly from the manufacturer. I emailed them on a Friday, and as I whinged to Epiphora on gchat, I wasn’t expecting a reply until Monday. Well I WAS WRONG. Sunday morning rolls around and there, in my inbox, is an email from Inge, saying they’d replace my beloved Eroscillator! That I didn’t even buy from them! On a Sunday! She’s the best.1
So, I sent it off post-haste (the Advanced Response Corp office is just across the city from me. Maybe I should have just walked it there and saved myself some postage), and for the last week and a half I have been Eroscillator-less. Woefully Eroscillator-less. I mope around, glance at my Hitachi, and throw myself onto my couch in a fit of melancholy. My lonely fingertip attachment has been sitting on my bedside table, gathering dust, waiting for its companion to return. All is misery and sadness at my apartment. Much like a Russian novel, only warmer and with less vodka.
Until TODAY! I came back from running, and in a blaze of glory, my doorman handed me a package that had come for me. I clutched the package in the elevator, ripping off the tape before I get inside my apartment (I know, this was ill-advised, but I was truly crazed). Inside the package–at this point I was safely inside my apartment–I found my new Eroscillator, which I promptly plugged in to find THREE WORKING SPEEDS! Oh rapturous day! I chortled in my joy.
And now, with great happiness, I get to go back to using my favorite vibrator. All is right again with the world.
- I emailed her from my personal email address, so she didn’t even know I was a reviewer/affiliate. This is just the normal, totally awesome level of customer service. [↩]