Since I had one of those days that would normally inspire some whining, waxing poetical about grey days and being in a funk, I've decided I don't want to subject my readers to that. Instead, I'm going to make a list. It's therapeutic in its own special way.
Things that irritate me by Captain Monkeypants:
1) People that don’t use turn signals.
2) People that do use turn signals and forget to turn them off so you get stuck behind them wondering if they’ll ever turn.
3) Canadian Geese that fly down in front of your car and stand in the road without moving as you’re driving.
4) UPS. For some reason, my package that was “Out for Delivery” yesterday morning at 7:03 a.m. ended up not being delivered, went to Columbus, OH for the night and returned to be “Out for Delivery” this morning. It finally arrived at 4:42 p.m. today.
5) Nickels. I can’t explain that one. I just despise nickels. They’re irritating little coins.
6) Olive Garden. Italian food is supposed to be simple. It’s not supposed to be stuffed puff pastry in a sauce on top of pasta. That’s, like, three dishes in one. Also, it’s very unhealthy. Also, it’s a little bit vile. It’s like an appetizer on top of an entrée. Next thing you know is it’ll come with a side of pudding to dip the puff pastry thingies.
7) That dog from the Cesar dog food commercials. Its head is enormous. I find it offputting.
8) Termites. They eat your house and they’re creepy. And expensive.
9) Craftsman Lawnmowers: Lawnmowers shouldn’t have the piston explode when you’re innocently mowing and almost hit you in the head. Since my boss had the exact same experience with Craftsman, I’m irritated with them.
10) The lady in my neighbourhood who walks all four of her dogs at once and thusly can’t stop to pick up their poop. This is even more annoying because the poop is always in the middle of the sidewalk and it’s disgusting.
11) Candidates who say they really want a job and need it and then they’re offered the job, they decide “it’s not for them.” I know it’s their choice but, well, it takes a lot of work to get them to the point where they’re offered the job.
12) Rats. I know it’s not their fault they’re vile and disgusting but those nasty little tails disgust me.
13) The fuss about cupcakes. It’s probably because I don’t like cake much but, really, cupcakes are just muffins with a ton of frosting on top. Why all the fuss?
14) Lima Bean Respect Day. I’m just typing that because it’s what my Food Network calendar is calling today. It’s hard to respect a lima bean, honestly. They just don’t command it. Maybe if they made your pee smell funny like asparagus, they’d be more interesting.
15) When my rainproof wellington boots become non rainproof and the water oozes from the ground up, making my socks wet.
16) Bad grammar. I don’t care if it’s slang, I simply cannot get used to people saying, “Where you at?”
17) Having those dreams where you really, really need to call someone on the phone but no matter what you do, you can’t seem to dial the number right.
18) Gordon Ramsey. Horrible man. I don’t know why he has to shout and swear all the time. Also, he seems unable to make a decent Yorkshire pudding.
19) The people in my neighbourhood with the large German shepherd that isn’t on a leash and, when it sees me and my pups, chases us. This has happened twice now. It’s scary.
20) Days like today where no matter how hard I try, I feel like I’m stuck and that I’m horrible at my job because I’m not getting anywhere with anything.
Thanks for reading. Hapy Thursday!
Showing posts with label UPS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UPS. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Wet Days and Offended Dachshunds
Today has been a very wet sort of day. We started having thunderstorms around 2 a.m. I know this because I have a little dog who is not fond of thunderstorms and I awoke to find her struggling to find her way under the covers (She tends to get tangled between the sheet and the comforter and can’t figure out how to get under the sheet) while simultaneously trying to sit on my chest. Soon afterwards, I saw a flash of lightning, heard the crash of thunder and discovered that Rory had, in fact, found her way under the covers where she proceeded to burrow down by my knees which is her place of safety.
Sookie, meanwhile, leisurely wriggled herself under the covers where she spooned up against me in her favourite position. Sookie has an amazing ability to wriggle into a comfy position with very little movement. Rory, on the other hand, tends to live up to her middlename of Wrigglebottom and thrashes, wiggles and squirms her way to where she wants to go.
For the rest of the night, the storms rumbled. I woke up sporadically, as did the dogs. By the time my alarm went off, the thunderstorms had subsided but the rain continued to pour down.
It finally stopped for a while around 1 p.m. We’re supposed to have more storms tonight through tomorrow. I like a good thunderstorm and I love heavy rain. My only problem is that I’m having a wee bit of a problem with flooding in my back garden.
My area of Cincinnati is built on a spring. This means that the water table is high to begin with which is why we can’t have basements or anything. This also means it can get quite wet when it rains because, eventually, there’s nowhere to where the water can drain.
I’m a little sad about my Soggy Lake of Wetness that has taken over the back garden. I planted asparagus last year. It requires a trench to allow the ferns to grow and drop seeds. Unfortunately, this provides a nice place for water to gather, sit and then flood outwards. Since we’ve had a ton of rain already this spring, I’m pretty certain my asparagus is no more.
Also, it means I have little Ponds of Wetness all across my lawn. I watch the dogs try to dodge the Ponds as they do their business. For two dogs that enjoy getting down and dirty when they dig in the mud and who can tear through a giant puddle without thought if a squirrel appears, my two girls are decidedly finicky about rain. They don’t really like it. They do not like to get their feet wet. Being dachshunds, their tummies are quite close to the ground so, chances are, if their feet are getting wet, so are their tummies. Thus, as soon as they tear out the back door and discover the grass is soaked, they stop dead in their tracks, stare disdainfully around and then stare at me reproachfully as if the rain is my fault.
I’d expect nothing less, honestly. Dachshunds tend to take things personally. They sulk if you offend them and you must bribe them to forgive you with either lots of cuddling or with a treat. Usually, it takes both a cuddle and a treat. The problem is that you don’t always know what it is you’ve actually done. Some nights, I’m sitting on the couch with Sookie sleeping draped over the back of the couch and Rory sleeping beside me when, without prompting, Rory will sit up, give me a filthy look and then go sit in her crate in a huff.
The thing is I know I should just ignore her and let her sulk. After all, I haven’t done anything.
It’s not that easy, of course. She usually stays in her snit until I end up laying on the floor with my head in the crate whispering sweet nothings in her ear while petting her. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this but there you have it. Captain Monkeypants often sticks her head in a dog crate. At least I’m honest.
Anyway, going back to the rain and our soggy back yard. At present, the water has drained a little since it’s not raining. This means that there are still puddles all over the place but the Soggy Lake of Wetness has drained. If I do walk across the grass, there will be squelching and splashing.
Naturally, it doesn’t help that my grass is also a little jungle like at present due to the exploded lawnmower situation. I was hoping to remedy the lawnmower situation soon but, unfortunately, silly Captain Monkeypants trusted that when UPS says a package is "out for delivery", it means it might be delivered. As I write this blog at almost 8:30 p.m., my package is to be delivered by "The End of the Day". I'm not sure how that translates in UPS time but, well, let's just say I figured it'd be here by now and it's not. If it does get here tonight, it's going to be too late to do anything but attempt to get the 100 lb box into my living room. Which is likely to be an adventure unto itself. One that is reliant on UPS. Which is to say...it might not happen. Anyway...moving on...
The sad fact is that even though I have a nice unexploded mower due to be delivered any moment now (or tomorrow, depending on how long UPS "Day" actually is), I can’t use it. I’m afraid if I subjected it to the Soggy Lake of Wetness, I might accidentally explode this mower too. I don’t want to blow up another mower especially a new one.
Thus, my poor dogs have a small reason to give me dirty looks when they have to go outside during wet times at the moment. The grass is about as tall as they are and rather than just get wet tummies, they also just get…wet.
On the plus side, it does deter them from escape attempts and from barking too much at the squirrels and bunnies that taunt the girls by showing themselves and then staying out of reach. It also means I don’t have to keep checking on them to make sure they aren’t Up to No Good because most likely, they’re in the house.
Of course, when they are in the house, they’re generally sulking because the rain means they don’t get a walk and they’re bored.
Have I mentioned that dachshunds take things personally?
Happy Wednesday!
Sookie, meanwhile, leisurely wriggled herself under the covers where she spooned up against me in her favourite position. Sookie has an amazing ability to wriggle into a comfy position with very little movement. Rory, on the other hand, tends to live up to her middlename of Wrigglebottom and thrashes, wiggles and squirms her way to where she wants to go.
For the rest of the night, the storms rumbled. I woke up sporadically, as did the dogs. By the time my alarm went off, the thunderstorms had subsided but the rain continued to pour down.
It finally stopped for a while around 1 p.m. We’re supposed to have more storms tonight through tomorrow. I like a good thunderstorm and I love heavy rain. My only problem is that I’m having a wee bit of a problem with flooding in my back garden.
My area of Cincinnati is built on a spring. This means that the water table is high to begin with which is why we can’t have basements or anything. This also means it can get quite wet when it rains because, eventually, there’s nowhere to where the water can drain.
I’m a little sad about my Soggy Lake of Wetness that has taken over the back garden. I planted asparagus last year. It requires a trench to allow the ferns to grow and drop seeds. Unfortunately, this provides a nice place for water to gather, sit and then flood outwards. Since we’ve had a ton of rain already this spring, I’m pretty certain my asparagus is no more.
Also, it means I have little Ponds of Wetness all across my lawn. I watch the dogs try to dodge the Ponds as they do their business. For two dogs that enjoy getting down and dirty when they dig in the mud and who can tear through a giant puddle without thought if a squirrel appears, my two girls are decidedly finicky about rain. They don’t really like it. They do not like to get their feet wet. Being dachshunds, their tummies are quite close to the ground so, chances are, if their feet are getting wet, so are their tummies. Thus, as soon as they tear out the back door and discover the grass is soaked, they stop dead in their tracks, stare disdainfully around and then stare at me reproachfully as if the rain is my fault.
I’d expect nothing less, honestly. Dachshunds tend to take things personally. They sulk if you offend them and you must bribe them to forgive you with either lots of cuddling or with a treat. Usually, it takes both a cuddle and a treat. The problem is that you don’t always know what it is you’ve actually done. Some nights, I’m sitting on the couch with Sookie sleeping draped over the back of the couch and Rory sleeping beside me when, without prompting, Rory will sit up, give me a filthy look and then go sit in her crate in a huff.
The thing is I know I should just ignore her and let her sulk. After all, I haven’t done anything.
It’s not that easy, of course. She usually stays in her snit until I end up laying on the floor with my head in the crate whispering sweet nothings in her ear while petting her. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this but there you have it. Captain Monkeypants often sticks her head in a dog crate. At least I’m honest.
Anyway, going back to the rain and our soggy back yard. At present, the water has drained a little since it’s not raining. This means that there are still puddles all over the place but the Soggy Lake of Wetness has drained. If I do walk across the grass, there will be squelching and splashing.
Naturally, it doesn’t help that my grass is also a little jungle like at present due to the exploded lawnmower situation. I was hoping to remedy the lawnmower situation soon but, unfortunately, silly Captain Monkeypants trusted that when UPS says a package is "out for delivery", it means it might be delivered. As I write this blog at almost 8:30 p.m., my package is to be delivered by "The End of the Day". I'm not sure how that translates in UPS time but, well, let's just say I figured it'd be here by now and it's not. If it does get here tonight, it's going to be too late to do anything but attempt to get the 100 lb box into my living room. Which is likely to be an adventure unto itself. One that is reliant on UPS. Which is to say...it might not happen. Anyway...moving on...
The sad fact is that even though I have a nice unexploded mower due to be delivered any moment now (or tomorrow, depending on how long UPS "Day" actually is), I can’t use it. I’m afraid if I subjected it to the Soggy Lake of Wetness, I might accidentally explode this mower too. I don’t want to blow up another mower especially a new one.
Thus, my poor dogs have a small reason to give me dirty looks when they have to go outside during wet times at the moment. The grass is about as tall as they are and rather than just get wet tummies, they also just get…wet.
On the plus side, it does deter them from escape attempts and from barking too much at the squirrels and bunnies that taunt the girls by showing themselves and then staying out of reach. It also means I don’t have to keep checking on them to make sure they aren’t Up to No Good because most likely, they’re in the house.
Of course, when they are in the house, they’re generally sulking because the rain means they don’t get a walk and they’re bored.
Have I mentioned that dachshunds take things personally?
Happy Wednesday!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Raves and Rants...
It's a week before Christmas Eve. I'm excited by this fact. I, personally, love Christmas Eve more than any other day of the year. That's not to say I don't like Christmas Day but, as I've said, I love that anticipation of Christmas Eve, that waiting, that excitment that builds and grows and becomes the embodiment of Christmas. I always find Christmas Day to be just a wee bit anticlimactic, the presents open, the turkey cooked and...exhaustion hits.
No, I'm a Christmas Eve Monkeypants. I like the preparations that lead up to that day, the rush and activity of Christmas Eve as the last presents are wrapped, last minute stocking-stuffers are bought and the thrill of something hovers in the air.
For now, however, there's a week left. It's a week for me to continue with my cliched salute to the holidays, my Trans-Siberian Orchestra CD/Playlist blaring in my ears, my gingerbread waiting to be baked, my roster of Christmas DVD's on a stack, waiting to suit my mood. I admit: I know it's a lot of commercialism. Yet, if you combine the commercial side of Christmas with the side that actually understands why the season exists, you have a pretty nice balance. I, personally, can't say anything other than "I love Christmas!"
It puts me in a good mood, even when there's things conspiring to level my mood to that of unhappiness. It makes me focus on the positive and only dwell enough on the negative that it inspires one tirade and I'm done.
So, in all fairness, I think it's only fair that in addition to my rants, I give a rave or two before I rant again.
Thus, my first 'rave' goes out to United Airlines. I can't say you're perfect but, well, you've redeemed yourself slightly. If you're a regular reader, you'll know I've had issues with United in the past. I can't say I truly support the Economy vs. Economy Plus seating. I mean, on other airlines, it is perfectly normal NOT to fly with your knees up by your ears when you book a coach flight. On United, unless you pay the the $49 for 'extra room', that's how you're going to fly.
Nevertheless, when I flew to L.A. this weekend, United did redeem themselves by simply getting me to where I needed to be without problems. I confess, on the way home from L.A. to Dayton, I was cynical. I had 40 mins to connect from one flight to another AND I'd checked luggage. Given my myriad of past experiences, this could have been a problem. Normally, I'd be landing, a sense of panic in my throat and tummy and I'd be running as soon as I got off a plane to find out exactly how far I had to peg it in order to board my flight. Not this time, however. For once, United actually got me to my connection early.
I know, I know. It's a shock. I got to the Chicago airport early and was taken aback by the fact that I only had to go one terminal over and I had an extra 20 minutes to do so. Given that I was travelling on a $250 voucher, it was a bit of a shock to discover there were no complications: My plane had landed early and I was going to make my connection on time.
Thus, I have to salute United Airlines. I think you could improve the legroom thing a bit but I do respect your improved customer service. Given that my prior United experiences have ranked on a scale from pure suckiness to tolerable, having a good experience is something to write home about. Thus, I salute you. Keep it up.
I also have to salute Jungle Jim's International Market. A week or so ago, I blogged about not being able to find quails' eggs at the store. In fact, having scoured Whole Foods, Jungle Jims, Trader Joe's AND Kroger Fresh Fare and finding no quail's eggs at all, I was going to give up hope. Then, in response to my whining, someone from Jungle Jim's did respond. I was humbled and happy that someone actually read my blog and listened. I even went to Jungle Jim's last night and found the quails' eggs as suggested. Unfortunately, the ones suggested were in a can. As a snobbish foodie (and as someone who watches WAY too much Food Network) I was hoping for fresh eggs, the type I used to see all the time when I lived in California. I wish I'd known then what I know now because those quails' eggs would have been mine. Nevertheless, I completely respect the fact that someone actually bothered to read this blog AND offer suggestions. I will continue to frequent Jungle Jim's- partly because it's the only place in the area that caters to my obsessive needs but, also, because it's awesome.
Now onto the rants. I hear that when life hands you lemons, you're supposed to make lemonade. Me, I tend to yell at the lemons for a while until they start to mean nothing. Then I drink my lemonade quietly.
It's time for me to yell at the lemons.
In this case, the lemons are UPS. You know them. United Postal Service. "Brown." The friendly representatives who are supposed to pay $8 just to wear the offical socks of their company.
Yes, I know for a fact that their socks cost $8. When I worked at USC, the UPS guy was my buddy and once I knew he'd answer, I asked him about his socks. For the record, yes, they're supposed to wear the offical UPS brown socks with a logo. They cost $8. My UPS driver could not afford this type of expense for socks and, thus, he went elsewhere, bought brown socks and pushed them down so they were 'slouching'. This not only covered up the fact that they weren't UPS socks but, also, saved him money. He was a bit of an odd UPS man, I'll admit that. He was the type who said "You should check that out sometime," when he talked of an event in the area. He never asked me out. He never mentioned we should date. He simply said vague things like "You should check that out. I'll be there!" He also said it to my good friend so I can't even pretend that he liked me in particular. He was odd.
Nevertheless, even though he worked for UPS, I tried to distance him from the company for which he worked. Yet...he was a loyalist. He loved UPS.
Now me? I want to but, really, I despise them. Hence...we enter the Rant portion of this blog.
Once upon a time, Captain Monkeypants had a best friend (Saz) whom she'd known for many years. Captain Monkeypants had known her friend since high school, a time in which they both joined Drama Club, had bad experiences and had embraced their college years as a time in which things started to matter.
Even with the obstacles of different lives, Captain Monkeypants and Saz remained friends. They eventually travelled together and found that bi-annually trips to New York and Los Angeles were fun. Then Captain Monkeypants moved to L.A. and Saz found that trips to L.A. were even easier becasue she had a futon on which to sleep.
Captain Monkeypants and Saz would find things to do in L.A . that were fun. Eventually, they discovered Santa Barbara and the Santa Ynez valley. They went wine tasting. They had fun. They found a nifty winery called "Sanford." It was a small, family owned place in which the wine pourers were knowledgable and friendly and, also, the wine tasted wonderful. The favourite selection of Saz and Captain Monkeypants was vin Gris. It was a variation on Pinot Noir that was pleasant, aromatic and wonderful.
Then a movie came out called "Sideways." Sanford was featured in the film. They mentioned Vin Gris. It became impossible to buy Vin Gris. For several years, it was difficult for someone to order Vin Gris because it was always sold out.
Then came 2009. Captain Monkeypants realized Saz's birthday was approaching and, remembering how much Saz had loved Sanford Vin Gris, she daringly checked the website.
Success! Finally, Sanford had the elusive wine in stock! Thus, it was that Captain Monkeypants ordered two bottles of the delicious libation to be delivered to Saz for her birthday.
And thus became the horrors of UPS.
In order to receive a shipment of wine, a human must be 21 years of age. Saz is over 21 but, unfortunately, missed the first delivery attempt.
Then, even though she left strict instructions on redirecting the package if a delivery was unsuccessful, Saz was thwarted in the second attempt to receive the package.
Thus, tonight, she decided to reign triumphant over UPS. She took the afternoon off work to ensure she would be home when they tried to deliver. She made sure her front call box was hooked up to her apartment, in case UPS came by. She even left a note telling UPS where to buzz if they had a package for her.
The story does NOT have a happy ending.
For, you see, UPS apparently does not require identification to deliver a package. Thus, it was, that some random, cruel stranger told the UPS driver that he was, in fact, Saz and, thus it was, that he received Saz's package.
Now, here's where I abandon the tale and I rant. The question is this: If someone (Saz) does EVERYTHING in her ability to make sure UPS knows how and where to deliver a package, how is that a random stranger from the street can waltz up to the UPS driver, claim that he is my friend and receive her wine???
I get it. UPS drivers are overworked. They're tired. They don't have the time to dial the ten-digits that it might require to inform a recipient that their package has arrived. I get that.
What I DON'T get is how come it's not ok to redirect a package that requires an over-21 signature because it contains wine but it's ok to just hand it off to some nasty, selfish pig who decides he wants to steal?
And yes, I am aware I sound harsh but what kind of person just takes a package, pretends it's his and doesn't worry about the fact that he's robbing a person of a gift?
I hate that I'm not more shocked about his world in which we live. Yet, sadly, I am not. I am, however, disgusted at the pig who doesn't even worry about the fact that he's stealing but, rather, that he's got a package from UPS that isn't addressed to him.
My anger is directed at UPS. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? A person on the street walks up to you and claims they're the recipient of a package. A smart person/company would say, "well, let me see some i.d.".
But not UPS. Instead they hand it off to the stranger. Saz forwarded me the signature. It is not hers. It is an imposter. SHAME ON YOU, UPS. I get that you're busy but, really? You're so busy that you can't say, "can I see some ID?" before you hand over the box?
Fortunately, I ordered from Sanford. Let me tell you, this is a top notch business. Not only was their representative- Donna- nice but she was also sympathetic. She quickly offered to reship my order and, endearing herself forever to me, told me that she'd be yelling at UPS the next day.
I am lucky. I ordered from a place that recognizes customers individually, not as a number. Donna made me feel better. Saz will get her Vin Gris, somehow...somewhere.
Yet it is UPS whom I question. What kind of business sense do they have? Really? You deliver to some random idiot on the street who happens to know the last name of an apartment occupant? Shame on you, UPS...check the damn driver's license next time!
That is all I have to say on that for now. All I can add is that I adore the Post Office and, given the UPS blunder, I will be relying on USPS far more now than ever. I know I'll be alone in my resolve but, if you're reading, think again about UPS...you don't want your shipment ending up in the wrong hands.
Nevertheless, with a week before Christmas Eve, I shall keep my fingers crossed that Saz shall recieve her package. The element of surprise at the gift is gone but maybe, just maybe, the element of surprise will exist in the fact that UPS ever manages to get her wine to her without someone stealing it.
Christmas is full of hope, right?
Happy Wednesday!
No, I'm a Christmas Eve Monkeypants. I like the preparations that lead up to that day, the rush and activity of Christmas Eve as the last presents are wrapped, last minute stocking-stuffers are bought and the thrill of something hovers in the air.
For now, however, there's a week left. It's a week for me to continue with my cliched salute to the holidays, my Trans-Siberian Orchestra CD/Playlist blaring in my ears, my gingerbread waiting to be baked, my roster of Christmas DVD's on a stack, waiting to suit my mood. I admit: I know it's a lot of commercialism. Yet, if you combine the commercial side of Christmas with the side that actually understands why the season exists, you have a pretty nice balance. I, personally, can't say anything other than "I love Christmas!"
It puts me in a good mood, even when there's things conspiring to level my mood to that of unhappiness. It makes me focus on the positive and only dwell enough on the negative that it inspires one tirade and I'm done.
So, in all fairness, I think it's only fair that in addition to my rants, I give a rave or two before I rant again.
Thus, my first 'rave' goes out to United Airlines. I can't say you're perfect but, well, you've redeemed yourself slightly. If you're a regular reader, you'll know I've had issues with United in the past. I can't say I truly support the Economy vs. Economy Plus seating. I mean, on other airlines, it is perfectly normal NOT to fly with your knees up by your ears when you book a coach flight. On United, unless you pay the the $49 for 'extra room', that's how you're going to fly.
Nevertheless, when I flew to L.A. this weekend, United did redeem themselves by simply getting me to where I needed to be without problems. I confess, on the way home from L.A. to Dayton, I was cynical. I had 40 mins to connect from one flight to another AND I'd checked luggage. Given my myriad of past experiences, this could have been a problem. Normally, I'd be landing, a sense of panic in my throat and tummy and I'd be running as soon as I got off a plane to find out exactly how far I had to peg it in order to board my flight. Not this time, however. For once, United actually got me to my connection early.
I know, I know. It's a shock. I got to the Chicago airport early and was taken aback by the fact that I only had to go one terminal over and I had an extra 20 minutes to do so. Given that I was travelling on a $250 voucher, it was a bit of a shock to discover there were no complications: My plane had landed early and I was going to make my connection on time.
Thus, I have to salute United Airlines. I think you could improve the legroom thing a bit but I do respect your improved customer service. Given that my prior United experiences have ranked on a scale from pure suckiness to tolerable, having a good experience is something to write home about. Thus, I salute you. Keep it up.
I also have to salute Jungle Jim's International Market. A week or so ago, I blogged about not being able to find quails' eggs at the store. In fact, having scoured Whole Foods, Jungle Jims, Trader Joe's AND Kroger Fresh Fare and finding no quail's eggs at all, I was going to give up hope. Then, in response to my whining, someone from Jungle Jim's did respond. I was humbled and happy that someone actually read my blog and listened. I even went to Jungle Jim's last night and found the quails' eggs as suggested. Unfortunately, the ones suggested were in a can. As a snobbish foodie (and as someone who watches WAY too much Food Network) I was hoping for fresh eggs, the type I used to see all the time when I lived in California. I wish I'd known then what I know now because those quails' eggs would have been mine. Nevertheless, I completely respect the fact that someone actually bothered to read this blog AND offer suggestions. I will continue to frequent Jungle Jim's- partly because it's the only place in the area that caters to my obsessive needs but, also, because it's awesome.
Now onto the rants. I hear that when life hands you lemons, you're supposed to make lemonade. Me, I tend to yell at the lemons for a while until they start to mean nothing. Then I drink my lemonade quietly.
It's time for me to yell at the lemons.
In this case, the lemons are UPS. You know them. United Postal Service. "Brown." The friendly representatives who are supposed to pay $8 just to wear the offical socks of their company.
Yes, I know for a fact that their socks cost $8. When I worked at USC, the UPS guy was my buddy and once I knew he'd answer, I asked him about his socks. For the record, yes, they're supposed to wear the offical UPS brown socks with a logo. They cost $8. My UPS driver could not afford this type of expense for socks and, thus, he went elsewhere, bought brown socks and pushed them down so they were 'slouching'. This not only covered up the fact that they weren't UPS socks but, also, saved him money. He was a bit of an odd UPS man, I'll admit that. He was the type who said "You should check that out sometime," when he talked of an event in the area. He never asked me out. He never mentioned we should date. He simply said vague things like "You should check that out. I'll be there!" He also said it to my good friend so I can't even pretend that he liked me in particular. He was odd.
Nevertheless, even though he worked for UPS, I tried to distance him from the company for which he worked. Yet...he was a loyalist. He loved UPS.
Now me? I want to but, really, I despise them. Hence...we enter the Rant portion of this blog.
Once upon a time, Captain Monkeypants had a best friend (Saz) whom she'd known for many years. Captain Monkeypants had known her friend since high school, a time in which they both joined Drama Club, had bad experiences and had embraced their college years as a time in which things started to matter.
Even with the obstacles of different lives, Captain Monkeypants and Saz remained friends. They eventually travelled together and found that bi-annually trips to New York and Los Angeles were fun. Then Captain Monkeypants moved to L.A. and Saz found that trips to L.A. were even easier becasue she had a futon on which to sleep.
Captain Monkeypants and Saz would find things to do in L.A . that were fun. Eventually, they discovered Santa Barbara and the Santa Ynez valley. They went wine tasting. They had fun. They found a nifty winery called "Sanford." It was a small, family owned place in which the wine pourers were knowledgable and friendly and, also, the wine tasted wonderful. The favourite selection of Saz and Captain Monkeypants was vin Gris. It was a variation on Pinot Noir that was pleasant, aromatic and wonderful.
Then a movie came out called "Sideways." Sanford was featured in the film. They mentioned Vin Gris. It became impossible to buy Vin Gris. For several years, it was difficult for someone to order Vin Gris because it was always sold out.
Then came 2009. Captain Monkeypants realized Saz's birthday was approaching and, remembering how much Saz had loved Sanford Vin Gris, she daringly checked the website.
Success! Finally, Sanford had the elusive wine in stock! Thus, it was that Captain Monkeypants ordered two bottles of the delicious libation to be delivered to Saz for her birthday.
And thus became the horrors of UPS.
In order to receive a shipment of wine, a human must be 21 years of age. Saz is over 21 but, unfortunately, missed the first delivery attempt.
Then, even though she left strict instructions on redirecting the package if a delivery was unsuccessful, Saz was thwarted in the second attempt to receive the package.
Thus, tonight, she decided to reign triumphant over UPS. She took the afternoon off work to ensure she would be home when they tried to deliver. She made sure her front call box was hooked up to her apartment, in case UPS came by. She even left a note telling UPS where to buzz if they had a package for her.
The story does NOT have a happy ending.
For, you see, UPS apparently does not require identification to deliver a package. Thus, it was, that some random, cruel stranger told the UPS driver that he was, in fact, Saz and, thus it was, that he received Saz's package.
Now, here's where I abandon the tale and I rant. The question is this: If someone (Saz) does EVERYTHING in her ability to make sure UPS knows how and where to deliver a package, how is that a random stranger from the street can waltz up to the UPS driver, claim that he is my friend and receive her wine???
I get it. UPS drivers are overworked. They're tired. They don't have the time to dial the ten-digits that it might require to inform a recipient that their package has arrived. I get that.
What I DON'T get is how come it's not ok to redirect a package that requires an over-21 signature because it contains wine but it's ok to just hand it off to some nasty, selfish pig who decides he wants to steal?
And yes, I am aware I sound harsh but what kind of person just takes a package, pretends it's his and doesn't worry about the fact that he's robbing a person of a gift?
I hate that I'm not more shocked about his world in which we live. Yet, sadly, I am not. I am, however, disgusted at the pig who doesn't even worry about the fact that he's stealing but, rather, that he's got a package from UPS that isn't addressed to him.
My anger is directed at UPS. Seriously? SERIOUSLY? A person on the street walks up to you and claims they're the recipient of a package. A smart person/company would say, "well, let me see some i.d.".
But not UPS. Instead they hand it off to the stranger. Saz forwarded me the signature. It is not hers. It is an imposter. SHAME ON YOU, UPS. I get that you're busy but, really? You're so busy that you can't say, "can I see some ID?" before you hand over the box?
Fortunately, I ordered from Sanford. Let me tell you, this is a top notch business. Not only was their representative- Donna- nice but she was also sympathetic. She quickly offered to reship my order and, endearing herself forever to me, told me that she'd be yelling at UPS the next day.
I am lucky. I ordered from a place that recognizes customers individually, not as a number. Donna made me feel better. Saz will get her Vin Gris, somehow...somewhere.
Yet it is UPS whom I question. What kind of business sense do they have? Really? You deliver to some random idiot on the street who happens to know the last name of an apartment occupant? Shame on you, UPS...check the damn driver's license next time!
That is all I have to say on that for now. All I can add is that I adore the Post Office and, given the UPS blunder, I will be relying on USPS far more now than ever. I know I'll be alone in my resolve but, if you're reading, think again about UPS...you don't want your shipment ending up in the wrong hands.
Nevertheless, with a week before Christmas Eve, I shall keep my fingers crossed that Saz shall recieve her package. The element of surprise at the gift is gone but maybe, just maybe, the element of surprise will exist in the fact that UPS ever manages to get her wine to her without someone stealing it.
Christmas is full of hope, right?
Happy Wednesday!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
StatCounter
