If you had
told me that I’d have 200 posts to this blog, or be dedicating my 200th
post to the USPS, I would have laughed at you. I know it’s cliché, but it’s
that simple. Point and laugh; it’s my go-to.
This is my
200th post. I know! I usually give up on a writing project well before
now. I’m currently struggling with the NaNoWriMo, for example, although it’s
still quite the accomplishment, since I broke my standard 20-page barrier in
fiction and made it to 40 pages so far.
But, I
digress. My novel writing challenge is blog fodder for another day.
Let’s discuss
how awesome the United States Post Office is. I know this is straining the
cultural stereotype that has been firmly established in your mind. I’ve been
there, too. I’ve waited in a line 10 deep just to buy stamps because the stamp machine
is out of stamps. I’ve shown up at 8:00am to drop something off for shipping,
only to have the person who opens the storefront only come out of the back at
8:25.
This time,
well, they saved my zombie books, and for that I cannot thank them enough. Especially
since I had writer’s block last night and needed some inspiration- in the form
of zombie books.
I’ve decided
to read The Walking Dead comics, to find out the ‘other’ storylines—the ones
that are not going to appear in the television series. Also, I get a sneak peak
on what might happen in the television series. Then there’s the added benefit
of finalizing my zombie apocalypse survival plan.
Tangent: If
you want to survive the zombie apocalypse, I strongly suggest that you avoid
everything that Rick does, both on the show and in the books. As to not give
you any spoilers, my example will be Carl being shot on the television show.
Seriously, Rick? You thought it would be a good idea for you to take your seven
year old son out into a zombie infested post-apocalyptic world and hunt for the
OTHER child you lost? The mother in me wants to punch you in the mouth for your
stupidity. And if you think that’s bad? Wait until you see some of the stupid
crap he does further in to the story line.
Okay, back
to the books. I decided to purchase the books because I’m not the only one who
wants to read them, and the library has a hold list that rivals a post office
line the week before Christmas. I went through Barnes and Noble because 1) they
had the cheapest price, and 2) I could order them online, and then pick them up
at the store that day. Sounds like a good deal, right? Wrong. Because the
assistant manager at the store doesn’t want to honor the online price (which is
nearly half of the store price) WHICH. I. ALREADY. PAID. So, I go home
bookless, and then cancel that order, and set up a new order to be shipped to
my house with free shipping.
That was a
couple weeks ago. My books shipped on Halloween, so I was expecting to get them
by the end of last week. Cut to the chase—I didn’t. I then had to try to track
them down. Cut to another chase—Barnes and Noble didn’t put the shipping label
on the right way, so they only had a partial shipping address. DHL (the ugly
step-child of the shipping world) said, “Eh. Screw it.” and dumped it on the
USPS to figure out. That’s where the trail ended.
So my zombie
books were out there in the netherworld of lost shipping packages, and all I had
was a DHL tracking number and a partial shipping address and some unhelpful
Barnes and Noble people, who I had already yelled at over the phone. I decided
to try the post office next.
I called
four different numbers until I reached M, who apparently is a specialist in this
matter. M went through a whole bunch of computer screens with me on the phone.
Then he went through a bunch of tubs marked ‘return to sender’, with me on the
phone. It was tedious, but I actually felt that he was trying. That was better
than DHL or Barnes and Noble at that point. Finally, I had to get off the phone
and return to work, so M took my cell number, in the event that they found it.
He wasn’t hopeful, and neither was I.
When I got
home last night from work, guess what was sitting on my kitchen table (having
been brought in from the rain by the brooding teen, who then opened up a
package addressed to me, or not really addressed to me, depending on how you
look at it. He then used this as his main justification in the argument that I am
obsessed, but what does he know…)? My package, wonky shipping label and all!
They had found it!
A little
over an hour later (yes, it was way past closing time at this point, I’m sure),
M called me to confirm I had received it. To give me the scoop on how he found
it. To tell me how he convinced our mail carrier to make a special trip to our
house to deliver it. In the rain, of course. To apologize on behalf of the
other companies.
Yes, that’s
right. M saved the day, snatching my books out of the return to sender pile just
in the nick of time. He then got them delivered to me so that I would not have
to wait one more minute to read my zombie books. When I thanked him profusely
and apologized for keeping him late at work, he told me that it was no problem,
as long as he made it home in time for Monday night football. He is my new hero…
and I bet he could single-handedly save the USPS, if given the opportunity.
I bet he’d
be handy to have around in the event of zombie apocalypse, as well.
Thank you, M
for being a good human being and fixing other people’s problems. Thank you for
doing the right thing.
And thank
you, readers, for being listening to me natter on about my zombie books and
other such nonsense for the past 200 posts!
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