Let's go, Shingo!
Well, the mighty, mighty EMS was no match for the American postal service. In this instance, paper beat scissors. I will try and describe what transpired but none of you (neither of you) will believe me so if you'd like to pretend this is a work of fiction, please go right ahead.
As I stated earlier, I received a "missed delivery" slip on Sunday. I checked the date on the slip and I checked the tracking number online to verify this had really happened and I wasn't looking at an old slip. OK, checked out. Based on my past experience with packages, I took this slip and drove to the post office in the late morning, just in case they needed to rearrange packages first thing in the morning.
Typical post office counter experience: I walked up to counter to hand over my slip, I was told to wait in massive general line; while I was in line a clerk called out for anyone with slips to hand them over; she took the two nearest her (none mine) and quickly disappeared for fifteen minutes and returned with their packages; I tried to give her my slip, she told me to get in line; since I had gotten out of line to give her the slip, I had to start all over, etc. etc. Like I said, typical.
After about forty-five minutes, I manage to get someone to take my slip to retrieve my package. The clerk returned ten minutes later and told me my package was out for delivery. I knew instantly, and I mean instantly what that meant. I foolishly tried asking questions like: "why?" and "what?" and "are you kidding me?" but got nowhere. All the clerk would tell me was that "that was a special Sunday Express delivery" and "They have to redeliver the special ones." I tried getting her to clarify and perhaps explain why I am supposed to be privy to internal postal delivery guidelines, but well, you know. The clerk did tell me that if I saw the postal carrier, I could stop that person and get my package.
So I drove back home and sure enough, the postal carrier had already come and gone and left another slip because while she was knocking at my door with my box in her hand, I was at the post office trying to pick it up. AND I hadn't left the slip signed on my door as a release because I was busy using it to pick up at the post office. See?
But wait! There's more!
I was not about to go back to the post office the next day and try this charade all over again so I decided I had probably just missed the postal carrier and I would see if I could find him or her. I wasn't certain who it would be since the post office likes to change carriers frequently or the main one I have is always on vacation and has a lot of fill-ins. I did a typical grid search pattern, radiating outwards. I found a postal truck a block south from my house. I walked up and and down the street until I found the carrier and I asked him if he was the carrier for my street address.
No.
So I got back into my car and continued looking. Two blocks west and two blocks south, I found another postal truck. I walked around and found the carrier. Was she the postal carrier for my address?
No.
Once more in to the car. Four blocks west, another truck. Are you my carrier?
No.
She does, however, direct to me to where my carrier may be, street-wise. Are you counting? That's three.
Four blocks west, one block north (no point in looking east, geographically) another truck. This time, I can't find the carrier, it's a business area so she could be anywhere. I look hither and thither and then I am forced to stand by her truck and just wait. And try not to start screaming and throwing things. She finally emerges and I ask her.
No.
That's four.
This one, though, tells me where I could find mine. She tells me her truck is parked over yonder and that I should wait for her over thataway (opposite direction) because that's her next stop. Hang on, her truck is parked yonder? Really? The postal carrier tries to get me to go to her next location. I shake my head and make her tell me exactly where the truck was parked. I then proceed to sprint, yes, dammit, sprint, to the location she told me because I knew that she was probably pulling away from the curb at that moment. And it's just like a steadicam scene in a movie. As I'm running, people are walking into my path, a lady on her cellphone with a stroller just stops in front of me, car doors are opening, traffic signals are against me, the whole thing.
Four city blocks later, I finally get there and I find the truck! Which, by the way, is basically a block away from my house. My postal carrier is nowhere to be seen. I run up one side of the street and down the other. Nothing. I finally decide to stand there and wait and try to calm down because I was ready to start screaming. Or crying, I was sorta torn between the two.
I also decide to call my work and tell them I've been unavoidably delayed for two hours. Sheesh.
Finally, FINALLY, I recognize my postal carrier walking up the street. She is genuinely a nice person and recognized me and why I was probably there. We chatted for a bit, even, because I was so relieved and then finally, FINALLY, I had my doll.
Oh, so happy.
This is the first doll I have ever named before I had even ordered her, I was that certain. Oh, oh, so happy.
Shingo is named for Katori Shingo's character Shingo Mama
Something to ponder while you're eating cereal: Why would there be five postal carriers for an eight-block area?
As I stated earlier, I received a "missed delivery" slip on Sunday. I checked the date on the slip and I checked the tracking number online to verify this had really happened and I wasn't looking at an old slip. OK, checked out. Based on my past experience with packages, I took this slip and drove to the post office in the late morning, just in case they needed to rearrange packages first thing in the morning.
Typical post office counter experience: I walked up to counter to hand over my slip, I was told to wait in massive general line; while I was in line a clerk called out for anyone with slips to hand them over; she took the two nearest her (none mine) and quickly disappeared for fifteen minutes and returned with their packages; I tried to give her my slip, she told me to get in line; since I had gotten out of line to give her the slip, I had to start all over, etc. etc. Like I said, typical.
After about forty-five minutes, I manage to get someone to take my slip to retrieve my package. The clerk returned ten minutes later and told me my package was out for delivery. I knew instantly, and I mean instantly what that meant. I foolishly tried asking questions like: "why?" and "what?" and "are you kidding me?" but got nowhere. All the clerk would tell me was that "that was a special Sunday Express delivery" and "They have to redeliver the special ones." I tried getting her to clarify and perhaps explain why I am supposed to be privy to internal postal delivery guidelines, but well, you know. The clerk did tell me that if I saw the postal carrier, I could stop that person and get my package.
So I drove back home and sure enough, the postal carrier had already come and gone and left another slip because while she was knocking at my door with my box in her hand, I was at the post office trying to pick it up. AND I hadn't left the slip signed on my door as a release because I was busy using it to pick up at the post office. See?
But wait! There's more!
I was not about to go back to the post office the next day and try this charade all over again so I decided I had probably just missed the postal carrier and I would see if I could find him or her. I wasn't certain who it would be since the post office likes to change carriers frequently or the main one I have is always on vacation and has a lot of fill-ins. I did a typical grid search pattern, radiating outwards. I found a postal truck a block south from my house. I walked up and and down the street until I found the carrier and I asked him if he was the carrier for my street address.
No.
So I got back into my car and continued looking. Two blocks west and two blocks south, I found another postal truck. I walked around and found the carrier. Was she the postal carrier for my address?
No.
Once more in to the car. Four blocks west, another truck. Are you my carrier?
No.
She does, however, direct to me to where my carrier may be, street-wise. Are you counting? That's three.
Four blocks west, one block north (no point in looking east, geographically) another truck. This time, I can't find the carrier, it's a business area so she could be anywhere. I look hither and thither and then I am forced to stand by her truck and just wait. And try not to start screaming and throwing things. She finally emerges and I ask her.
No.
That's four.
This one, though, tells me where I could find mine. She tells me her truck is parked over yonder and that I should wait for her over thataway (opposite direction) because that's her next stop. Hang on, her truck is parked yonder? Really? The postal carrier tries to get me to go to her next location. I shake my head and make her tell me exactly where the truck was parked. I then proceed to sprint, yes, dammit, sprint, to the location she told me because I knew that she was probably pulling away from the curb at that moment. And it's just like a steadicam scene in a movie. As I'm running, people are walking into my path, a lady on her cellphone with a stroller just stops in front of me, car doors are opening, traffic signals are against me, the whole thing.
Four city blocks later, I finally get there and I find the truck! Which, by the way, is basically a block away from my house. My postal carrier is nowhere to be seen. I run up one side of the street and down the other. Nothing. I finally decide to stand there and wait and try to calm down because I was ready to start screaming. Or crying, I was sorta torn between the two.
I also decide to call my work and tell them I've been unavoidably delayed for two hours. Sheesh.
Finally, FINALLY, I recognize my postal carrier walking up the street. She is genuinely a nice person and recognized me and why I was probably there. We chatted for a bit, even, because I was so relieved and then finally, FINALLY, I had my doll.
Oh, so happy.
This is the first doll I have ever named before I had even ordered her, I was that certain. Oh, oh, so happy.
Shingo is named for Katori Shingo's character Shingo Mama
Something to ponder while you're eating cereal: Why would there be five postal carriers for an eight-block area?
Labels: Blythe, Fist shaking, Happiness, Whining
posted by CMURB at 5:52 PM
2 Comments:
Three words: POST OFFICE BOX
Seriously. That way it never leaves the post office (oh until they return it to sender cos you didn't pick it up cos they never put a notice in your box.... or they put it in the wrong box). But I have had more luck getting things this way, and when you get a slip, it's THERE at the PO, NOT off with one of umpteen local delivery people. That was one heck of a jaunt you had. Scavenger hunt with the post office.
Are you kidding? The post Office would find a way. As it is, my local post office is NOT the one that packages are held at, so I bet you dollars to donuts that they'd find a way of leaving slips in my box at the local post office for me to pick my package at the further post office. With postage due. Just because.
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