Black Friday Blues, pt. 3

As I began this wait for The Package That Will Never Arrive, I turned to Amazon for comfort.


Amazon is funny when it comes to their sales.  Some items they’ve no problems in shooting out of the door, while others, you need an Act of Congress to get.  I have respect for the company, though, because unlike a lot of merchants, they will make an attempt to get you what you’ve ordered.  There have been, to my knowledge, only two instances where Amazon failed me: The first involved a book that was marked as available, but in truth was backordered.  Had Amazon owned up to that from the start, it wouldn’t have been an issue.  I didn’t find out until I’d waited two weeks, and finally got fed up and terminated the order.  The second incident was one where they wouldn’t sell me a $4 product unless I purchased another $30 worth of merchandise.  Uh, no.  Never did get that item, but that’s their loss – I’ve moved on, Amazon.

These issues notwithstanding, however, Amazon’s been pretty good to me.

I ordered some items from Amazon after I’d learned about my problems with The Package, and unlike that merchant, Amazon took my money and told me that my items would arrive in five days.  What I didn’t know was that the items – three in total – were being shipped not from Amazon, but via their client merchants.  One box arrived a day ahead of schedule, completely blowing my already fragile mind.  The other two boxes were to arrive the next day, but only one did; the second one (oddly, both came from the same store but were shipped separately) was no where to be found; Amazon says it should be here on Monday, two days later than predicted.

I should be upset but I’m not.  At least it’s here, in this immediate area and separated from me only by the thin walls of a postal van.  It was cold out and I’m sure that the postman made a decision that he would tote only one box from his van, but not both.  Never mind the fact that his van was parked twenty yards from my door – it was cold out and darn it, sacrifices had to be made.  I get it.  What I don’t understand, though is why did the delivered package look as though it’d been to hell and back?  What hatred did the shipper impose on my humble package?  I should have taken a photo, but I didn’t.  Joe Frazier didn’t look this bad after any of his fights with Muhammad Ali.  At least the contents weren’t damaged . . . much.

And for those still keeping score, I still haven’t heard anything about The Package That Will Never Arrive.

 

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