Different styles of delivery
During the last few months I’ve been expanding my horizons, so to speak. The stores locally don’t carry the things I want, so I’ve gone online for pretty much everything that I want, and recognize that it’s simply a return to the model of my childhood. After all, Eaton’s not only had a store; they had a mail order catalogue which was a lifeline for anyone with an urge to buy something more than what the local general store had on the top shelf.
The Internet carries the model to the extreme. From my kitchen table, I can buy virtually anything (virtually), and as long as the credit line holds out, my mailbox doubles as a cornucopia. And now we’ve identified the weak link in the chain; the delivery system. Around here I can have “stuff” brought in by a number of methods, all involving trucks. White ones, red ones, brown ones: the brown ones taste awful and I’ve sworn off them.
The white ones want to play a game; they stop, leave a large paper card and depart. I then take the card across the city and retrieve my package, in a room with multiple clocks and not much else. The red ones complicate my life by never doing the same thing twice. I have a marvelous delivery tool known as the SuperBox, where packages can be deposited along with a key for me. Temporary security. I like that model, because it fits my schedule. Sometimes the red truck leaves a paper card (like the white team) and I go to a pharmacy nearby to retrieve the treasure. Sometimes they leave padded envelopes; I had one arrive from Hong Kong (remember my expanded horizons) in only six days, and the postage stamps were proof of transit.
Once in a while, though, things go terribly wrong. The website showed a successful delivery at 07h40 today, so I called home to see what had come in. Nothing. No delivery on the family radar. When I got home, I reverifed the web message, and then called the hotline. Successful delivery reaffirmed, even as I checked the various rooms of the house to make sure the dog wasn’t playing with my mind. While returning from another fruitless investigation of the SuperBox, I just happened to spy an odd cardboard container stashed beside the barbecue, on a deck that was already prepped for winter.
My package (worth more than I like to think) had been delivered, at exactly the same time as our three day supply of bagged milk. The dog was distracted and never noticed a delivery prowler. Ditto for the rest of the family. The box had sat outside (rain in the forecast only) and if I had arrived home just a little bit later would have stayed under cover in the dark. I am not impressed!
