Robert Hague v. Baetz Home Center

Let’s get one thing straight: Robert Hague did not sign up for this. He just wanted a cooktop, a fridge, a dishwasher, and two matching mattresses so he and his wife could sleep like royalty on their king-sized bed. Instead, what he got was a full-blown home improvement horror story—missing appliances, mismatched mattresses that look like they escaped from a funhouse, and a $5,000 down payment that vanished into the void like it had its own exit strategy. This isn’t just a case of “they forgot to deliver the stove.” This is betrayal by receipt. And now, Mr. Hague is suing Baetz Home Center in Oklahoma’s LeFlore County District Court, demanding justice—and his money back—before he loses his mind completely.

So who are we talking about here? On one side, you’ve got Robert Hague, a regular guy living in Poteau, Oklahoma, who probably thought he was doing the responsible adult thing by buying big-ticket household items from a local home center. On the other side, Baetz Home Center—yes, that’s really the name—apparently some kind of appliance and furniture retailer operating out of Poteau, which, for the record, sounds less like a business and more like a side quest in a Wes Anderson film. These two parties entered into what should have been a simple transaction: pay now, get stuff later. But somewhere between the signed invoice and the delivery date, things went off the rails faster than a shopping cart with three flat tires.

Here’s how the disaster unfolded. On October 30, 2024—yes, this all allegedly happened this year, making it not only absurd but fresh—Mr. Hague handed over $5,000 as a down payment for a shiny new cooktop, refrigerator, and dishwasher. The total bill came to $8,132.57, with the remainder due upon delivery. Exhibit 1, the actual invoice, lays it all out like a crime scene photo: a 36-inch down-draft cooktop (model KCED606GBL, because of course there’s a model number), a French Quad Door Refrigerator (which sounds fancy enough to host its own podcast), and a dishwasher that probably hums show tunes when no one’s looking. All standard stuff—until you realize none of it ever showed up. Not a single appliance. No knock at the door, no delivery notification, no apologetic note left on the porch. Just silence. Radio silence from Baetz Home Center, as if Robert Hague and his down payment had been swallowed by the retail abyss.

But wait—there’s more. Around the same time, Hague also purchased two twin iComfort mattresses, intending to place them side by side on his king-size bed. Now, we’ve all seen mismatched socks, but mismatched mattresses? That’s next-level. And according to the petition, that’s exactly what he got: one mattress that was three inches taller than the other. Picture it: one side of the bed looks like it belongs in a luxury suite, the other like it was salvaged from a child’s loft bed. They’re not just mismatched—they’re geologically incompatible. You couldn’t even prop a board on top of them to make a flat surface; you’d need scaffolding. Mr. Hague, being a reasonable man, tried to return these lopsided love nests. After all, he didn’t sign up for a modern art installation—he wanted a good night’s sleep. But Baetz Home Center didn’t refund his money. Instead, they offered him a $1,000 store credit. A store credit. As if the solution to defective merchandise and undelivered appliances is “Hey, try our toasters!”

So why are we in court? Legally speaking, Hague is making two big claims. First: breach of contract. That’s a fancy way of saying, “We had a deal, and you blew it.” He paid money. They promised goods. The goods never arrived. That’s Contract Law 101, folks. Second: conversion, which sounds like something that happens in a vampire movie, but in legal terms means “you took my property and won’t give it back.” In this case, the “property” is the $5,000 down payment. Hague argues that since the appliances weren’t delivered, the money should be returned. But Baetz allegedly refused—meaning they’re effectively holding onto his cash like it’s a hostage. You don’t get to keep the ransom and fail the mission.

Now, what does Mr. Hague actually want? He’s demanding over $10,000 in damages—which includes the $5,000 deposit, the cost of the defective mattresses (around $3,200), and presumably some emotional damages for enduring the sheer indignity of sleeping next to a three-inch elevation discrepancy. Is $10,000 a lot? In the world of appliance lawsuits, it’s not exactly breaking the bank. For context, that French Quad Door Refrigerator alone was nearly $4,000. So we’re not talking about a dispute over a toaster oven here. This is a kitchen overhaul gone rogue. And yet, the refusal to refund feels almost personally insulting. It’s not just about the money—it’s about the principle. It’s about being able to trust that when you hand over five grand, you don’t end up with nothing but a lopsided bed and a grudge.

And here’s where we, your friendly neighborhood civil court narrators, throw in our two cents. What’s the most absurd part of this whole saga? Is it the missing cooktop? The fridge that may or may not exist in another dimension? No. It’s the mattress situation. Three. Inches. Taller. That’s not a manufacturing defect—that’s a design statement. Did someone at Baetz Home Center think, “You know what couples really need? One partner sleeping on a platform like they’re being knighted while the other sinks into the Earth’s crust”? And then to offer a store credit like Hague is just some casual shopper browsing the clearance aisle? “Oh, sorry your life is in shambles and your bedroom looks like a surrealist painting—here’s ten bucks off a humidifier.”

We’re rooting for Hague. Not because he’s perfect—he admits he doesn’t even have a copy of the second contract, which makes you wonder about his filing system—but because he’s fighting for basic decency. For the idea that a handshake (or in this case, an invoice) still means something. That when you pay for something, you should get it. That businesses can’t just take your money and ghost you like a bad Tinder date. And honestly, if Baetz Home Center had just refunded the deposit or replaced the mattresses properly, we wouldn’t be here. But no. They chose the path of resistance. They chose the mismatched mattresses. And now, they’re going to have to explain all of this to a jury.

Stay tuned, Poteau. Because if this case goes to trial, the only thing missing will be the cooktop… and maybe Baetz Home Center’s credibility.