For my Christmas miracle, I am getting the bathroom professionally painted. Our painter looks kind of like Perez Hilton, and it is super tempting to ask if Britney is really preggerz or not!!!!!
WHAT I WANT: someone to READ MY MIND and pick the perfect thing for me, just like I would. Since I am totally proactive, I ordered myself a book from Amazon while I purchased things for my nieces and nephews.
However, I could not read the mind of Amazon.com and know that the 1-click default shipping address is not the same as the default address book address for Stone Age Slow Checkout. “Turn on 1-click,” the button said, so I obediently did, and then I 1-clicked a few times, and then I got some emails today to let me know my order was winging its way to my address from two years ago. Oops. I suppose this is all my own fault for not being a proper steward of my address book and being ever mindful of the awesome power of 1-click, but you’d think the 1-click elves might have noticed the address in that profile is different from the one where I have received eleventy jillion other orders. I ask too much, I know.
So I called Amazon and confused poor Nigel in the customer service holding pen. It sounded like it just might be in India. “Well, who lives there now,” he asked, when I told him the order was accidentally going to an old address. “Not me, and that is my problem.” He was able to re-route things with UPS after thirty agonizing minutes, but for another part of the order, I had to contact that “Amazon Partner.”
It turned out the consenting adult partner had shipped it via the regular post. They suggested I return the one going to the wrong address and order a different one. Since I can’t return something destined to remain out of my physical custody, I then made a bizarre series of phone calls to the USPS 800 number, my local post office, and the local delivery center. “Oh, you’ll need a supervisah, honey.” Luckily, I was put through to a saint named Wayne, and Wayne was able to flag the tracking number so it will be rerouted when it scans in to the delivery center. And moreover, he has a close friendship with both the carrier for my former route and the carrier for my current route. He also has friends who live in my building, so he is intimately aware of the location. Bless us all, Tiny Tim! I think I may get the $12 spy pen for my nephew after all. Lead poisoning ahoy! That was certainly worth an hour of my life. I am sending Wayne a bag of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. I will walk it over myself.
WHERE IS MY DINNER?