Amazonitis struck again. Packages were supposed to arrive by Sunday. When such didn’t happen, I checked the calendar (yes, yesterday was Sunday and today is Monday) and the front porch (nope, no package — but was it stolen?) and then went to Amazon. After clicking on Orders and Track Package, I was given this message:
Now expected January 11 – January 12
We’re very sorry your delivery is late. Most late packages arrive in a day. If you have not received your package by tomorrow, you can come back here the next day for a refund.
Well, where was it, then? When I checked on Saturday, they assured me it was ‘on the way’. I clicked on a link for more shipping details.
Wow. I was impressed! That package worked hard on Friday, making tremendous progress from Vancouver to Portland, rushing between Amazon facilities and carrier facilities. Where’d it go after that?
Who knows? If only there was some capacity to track these things, some system whereby the packages are provided a number, and then under that system, let’s call it a tracking system, where its progress is followed, with details provided to the expectant customer about when it’ll arrive.
Fortunately for me, in this issue, it’s again not at all crucial. It’s more of a minor annoyance. I put the annoyance factor below the football team that I root for (we’ll not speak their name) getting bounced from the playoffs. It’s not like the package is carrying critical medicine, desperately needed food, or almost as importantly, coffee.
This is more of a first-world whine about setting expectations and having those expectations dashed. (Well, ‘dashed’ is a little strong. Let’s say, ‘failed’.) Yes, I’m aware of COVID-19. I’m aware many people are at risk out there for this stupid little package. I’m grateful to those people. I’m just having a little pre-coffee Monday morning fun, venting. It’s not like I have places to go.
It’s not like I’m a package.