Ramblings Post #13
Every now and then, I encounter an anomaly of sense that your average person wouldn't have encountered, not because they're not bright, but simply because they're not curious. Everyday I get surprised by folks who not only don't know something, but aren't curious in the least. You ever meet people who've lived somewhere for 10 years, but never been to the restaurant two streets over from their house? I mean they didn't even realize it was there. Yeah, those folks. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but he had a damn good life before that.
So I'm shipping something. You know the routine, you get a box, get some packing stuff and take your time and load everything up, get it all sealed up tight, then reopen the box because you forgot that one thing. You know how that goes. Well, I was shipping something, not big or bulky, and instead of trying to have my folks down in the company shipping department just slap a label on it and charge the company, I went to Fedex to do it myself. Damned ethics.
Fedex Kinkos. Kinkos and I go way back to undergrad. It was there, down in Tallahassee that I went o my first Kinkos party. For those who don't know, a Kinkos party is what happens when you need to pickup a document that was crucial to whatever class it was and the prof had left the only copy at Kinkos. And in those cases, the first available time to pick it up would be 2am. Back then, the big runs of copies would go last, after everything else and that's when they'd finish in T-Town. Apparently more than one student would want a copy as soon as possible, so they would hang out in the parking lot waiting, and it just rolled into a party. Hanging out, get a pizza or two from the spot on the corner, a furtive drink or two, etc. It would start around midnight and end when the started letting you in the get your copy for a $1.
But I digress.
So I show up at the local Fedex Kinkos and present my box for shipping. Fill out the little form, you know the one that doesn't show through the triplicate, and the guy adds up the charges.
"That will be $41." He says matter of factly.
"Whoa, I filled out the form for three day. Three day is $41? Isn't ground three days?"
"Oh, you wanted ground? Wrong form. You need one of these."
And he pulls out the ground shipping form from the side of the counter I can't get to. Well isn't that a neat trick. No issue, I figure since we're talking, I need to ask the next question.
"How long is ground to there?" I ask as I start filling out the form.
"Let me look. Um, ground is two days."
"And how much is it ground shipping?"
"For ground? It's $12."
"Wait a second, if I ship it three day express it's $41, but if I ship it ground two days, it's $12. Um, how does that work?"
"Well, the three day is guaranteed to be there on the third day. The two day ground might get there in two days, or three days, or maybe four days."
"So for a roughly 60 to 70% discount, I have to live a little uncertainty? But it will still get there. Right?
"Oh yeah. It will get there."
There was a look there that I gave him that I would describe, but it might scare the kiddies.
"You do realize you're charging me the $12 charge right. I just need a tracking number."
I wasn't shipping gold bricks or diamonds, and the stimulus package addendum nor was Obama's next speech wasn't in there, so it arriving at a precise moment in time wasn't exactly a priority. I needed to be there soon, but not $41 soon. Don't they know there is a bad economy?
Oh, yeah. That disconnect. My bad.
Barkeep. Gimme a glass of water, six slices of lemon and ten packs of sugar. What?