The package needed a signature, which was a nuisance, because we are rarely home during the week. There was no place on any of the reminder slips to designate a neighbor or another safe place, and the phone number provided was wholly automated. When the FINAL ATTEMPT at delivery was made when we were out on Friday evening, we shrugged it off, knowing that at some point in the upcoming three day weekend we would find our way down to the customer service.
And that opportunity did indeed come this morning when we pulled into the out of the way industrial park a little off the route to our favorite grocery store. We produced the required documentation and waited in the drafty shipping office listening to a local soul station, weighing ourselves on the industrial scale, and jumping every time the automatic door eerily opened and closed all by itself at random intervals.
The clerks returned from time to time to question us about the size, value, and shipper of our expected package, openly acknowledging that they couldn't find it. After speaking to two supervisors and leaving our number, we agreed to go to the grocery store and stop again on the way home. But when we got there, they balefully informed us that we would have to file a claim.
A couple of hours later we sat in our living room griping about our bad luck. Heidi was making her way through yet another automated phone menu when a roar outside the window attracted my attention. A brown truck rumbled by. "Maybe they accidentally sent it out for delivery again and that's why they couldn't find it," I suggested. "That could be it right now!" I laughed.
Just then a recorded voice came over the phone. The latest status of that package is that it was delivered at 3:36 today, it said.
I looked at my watch.
It was 3:37.
I trotted over to the front door, and...
there it was!
And that opportunity did indeed come this morning when we pulled into the out of the way industrial park a little off the route to our favorite grocery store. We produced the required documentation and waited in the drafty shipping office listening to a local soul station, weighing ourselves on the industrial scale, and jumping every time the automatic door eerily opened and closed all by itself at random intervals.
The clerks returned from time to time to question us about the size, value, and shipper of our expected package, openly acknowledging that they couldn't find it. After speaking to two supervisors and leaving our number, we agreed to go to the grocery store and stop again on the way home. But when we got there, they balefully informed us that we would have to file a claim.
A couple of hours later we sat in our living room griping about our bad luck. Heidi was making her way through yet another automated phone menu when a roar outside the window attracted my attention. A brown truck rumbled by. "Maybe they accidentally sent it out for delivery again and that's why they couldn't find it," I suggested. "That could be it right now!" I laughed.
Just then a recorded voice came over the phone. The latest status of that package is that it was delivered at 3:36 today, it said.
I looked at my watch.
It was 3:37.
I trotted over to the front door, and...
there it was!
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