Adventures in shipping

I ordered Celine’s birth announcements about three hours after receiving the photos from my photographer, partly because I wanted to get them out but mostly because I couldn’t wait to see them. Last Saturday I checked our mail and saw the lovely FedEx sticker on our mailbox. “You have a package in the office.” Yippee! I skipped down to our leasing office, sticker in hand. They went into their back room and came out empty handed a few moments later, shrugging their shoulders. “Are you sure you had something delivered?” I held up the sticker and said, well…yes, I did, and here’s the proof. “Hmm. Perhaps he hasn’t been by today to deliver?” It was delivered yesterday…

I left the office empty handed. I went back on Monday to see if the delivery driver had, in fact, somehow left my sticker on Friday but delivered it on Saturday. They checked the back again and came back empty-handed, again. This time I was less willing to accept their “we don’t have it, oh well!” attitude. I asked for them to check names instead of apartment numbers, and if they maybe misplaced it, and can you also please check the log? They seemed mildly put out that I was insisting they double check, but they took me to the back and showed me the lack of package. Frustrated, I left again and called FedEx.

FedEx promised that the package had been delivered. Robert was the delivery driver, he would call me on Tuesday to confirm. Tuesday came around and by 5:30pm I had not received a call, so I called FedEx again. Same story – definitely delivered the package. I went back to the office and asked again. They said two things: one, they write each package down when they arrive because “they’re kind of Nazis like that,” and two, there’s no way the driver would just drop off a package without signature. I stood there while holding a sleeping Celine and said I hated to be the middleman but if FedEx said they delivered the package and you are saying you don’t have it, then…someone is mistaken.

They let me come to the back again and started explaining their package filing process. First floor packages on the top shelf, second floor packages on the second shelf, etc. I asked for them to look for a TinyPrints package with my name. As they were explaining that they just didn’t have it, I noticed a blue TinyPrints package on the “third floor” shelf. Addressed to me. With the apartment number “346” scribbled across it in fat black sharpie. (We are not in apartment 346).


“Hmm! Well, there you go, mama!” said the employee.

It wasn’t an apology, but at least I found my birth announcements.

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