I ordered most of my things early on, so they all arrived here or at their final destination in plenty o' time. But one of the things I ordered delivered to my cousin - a table-top Christmas tree - turned out to be something of a Charlie Browner, shedding mightily despite her best efforts to keep it green.
Unfortunately, by the time I called to lodge my complaint, it was way too late to get a replacement sent. Not that I hung on the customer service line long enough to get told this in person.
Bad enough to have a long wait, but they were only playing two songs. And one Gene Autry's execrably sappy and wildly pious version of "Here Comes Santa Claus". Come on, I'm all for keeping Christ in Christmas, but there really is no need to bring God into a jingle about Santa. Plus Gene gives off a decidedly creepy vibe on this number. The other song was Bing Crosby's "Silver Bells," which wasn't enough to negate the Gene Autry.
So I lodged my complaint online.
Haven't heard back what they're going to do, but I know from the website that things are crazily backed up. Packages are being sent out seven days later than normal. So...
Part of the problem is COVID. Part of the problem is more folks ordering online, partly due to COVID. Part of the problem is the whopping snowstorm we just had. And part of it is that all these elements are combining to result in this:
An estimated 6 million packages a day are piling up in retailers' warehouses or shipping centers and awaiting pick up by FedEx, UPS, Amazon, the U.S. Postal Service and other shippers. Another 3.5 million packages are being picked up daily but not reaching their destinations on time, the latest shipping data show. It could soon get even worse: On-time delivery rates for the USPS have dropped to just over 86% in the third week of December, down from 93% three weeks ago. (Source: CBS News)
But we can't overlook the non-zero probability that the real Grinch of a fly in this ointment is the fiddling that USPS failed-leader Louis "No Joy to the World" DeJoy did - no doubt at the behest of the Maniac in Chief - to turn the US Mail service into such a third world outfit that the citizens would throw their hands up and beg to send a birthday card through UPS or FedEx for an order of magnitude more than they now pay for a stamp.
All part of the trend to privatize all sorts of services that shouldn't be privatized. Like prisons, because, gee, no private prison services business would ever feel incented to promote laws that result in more prisoners, not fewer. Like schools, because, gee, no private school would ever think of jettisoning a troubled kid because providing help to said troubled kid would eat into profits. Like healthcare, because, gee, no private healthcare delivery system would ever pump up recommendations for lucrative but not necessarily necessary procedures.
And why should Granny in Ruralfree, Idaho, get to send a letter to Boston for the same fee that I would pay to send a letter to Boston? And why should they keep sorting machines in place that might be needed to process mail-in ballots for all those lazy-arse liberal cheaters.
Anyway, the shipping sitch this year is really pretty bad.
Many businesses (especially smaller ones) are finding that the shippers are putting a limit on the number of packages they'll pick up from them each day. This is pushing more packages to the beleaguered USPS.
Sigh.
Etsy is letting its sellers "flag for removal any negative reviews from customers complaining solely about shipping problems."
Sigh.
Everything that was going to be sent to me - as far as I know - has arrived. The pedicure kit from my sister Kath. (I'll have silver toes for New Year's Eve, so I'll have something shiny to look at.) The brisket sandwich kit from my friends Joyce and Tom in Dallas. (Yum.) The wreath sent from Maine from friends Sam and Jane.
But it is, of course, more blessed to give than to receive, and I do feel bad for those who are trying to give, only to be frustrated in their efforts.
Of course, if people took a deep breath and thought about it for a minute, it really shouldn't make any difference to a mature and rational adult - or even to a kid who's beyond I-believe-in-Santa age - if something they want doesn't get there by Christmas.
Still, it is one more thing that's adding insult to the already acute injury that is 2020.
Bah humbug! May everything shipped to and from Louis DeJoy's house get lost in the mail.
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