The “Not-My-Package” Saga

Or, how FedEx is (not) sorry for your inconvenience

A tale of absurdity. And inconvenience.

November 23

I order some training swords for kendo from California for a Black Friday special. Tracking number for FedEx received.

November 26

I receive an email that the package is on its way.

November 27

I receive an email that the package was delivered, and a photo is attached. The photo shows our stoop with a massive 5’x 2′ box with big letters “CHAISE CUSHION.” Unless they packed my bokken and shinai in layers of bubble wrap, that’s not my package.
Go out to examine.
The main shipping label shows it’s from a distributor in California, going to a warehouse in Indiana. (I live in Virginia.) I cannot find anything with my home address on it. The tracking number on the big label does not match what I’m expecting.
My wife gets home and looks, discovers a tiny barcode label on the short side with the tracking number that matches what I’m expecting, along with our address.
Apparently, the small label fell off my kendo box and affixed itself to the cushion box. And THAT’s the label that redirects it from the badlands of Indiana to this residential burb in Virginia.
I go online, and report the shipment missing. Then, I decide to call because I didn’t want them to argue with me that it was delivered (because they think it was). So I call and talk to a nice customer service rep. I explain the situation and provide tracking numbers, addresses, etc. She finds that my original box is still on the truck, as the driver reported it as an anomalous undelivered package.
I’m reassured it will be delivered tomorrow. And a driver will also be scheduled to pick up the misdelivery tomorrow.

November 28

Early morning, my original package arrives. Yay! All inside is okay. The other box remains; must be another driver coming? Day passes to night. Box still on the stoop. Rains all day.
The box is, naturally, wet.

November 29

Day passes to night, the box remains – soggy – on the stoop. Maybe they couldn’t get out to get it today?

November 30

The morning passes, no driver. Time to call in-between meetings! A nice customer service person commiserates, says he is requesting a driver be scheduled, and takes contact info so the distribution center can notify me of pickup. Gives me a “confirmation number” for future reference.

December 1

Day passes to night. No email, no call, no driver. Box remains on the stoop, suffers 3rd day in the rain. Poor box.

December 2

Dawn arrives with the box still on stoop. I call and suffer through their horrendous phone tree. Aside: did you know you can’t talk to a customer service person unless you have a tracking number? And that the “confirmation number” I was given is two digits too short, so it doesn’t register? After 20 minutes and repeated calls to try defeating the menu tree, I finally say “Investigations” as a throwaway word, and lo and behold; I enter the realm of live people on the phone.
I explain the budding saga for the 5th? 6th? time. I am told they are sorry I am having trouble. I am told they are scheduling a driver. They do not like it when I clap back with the “Well, you’ve all said that 5 times now, and I do. not. believe you. How hard is it to get a driver to stop and pick this up? I see FedEx trucks all the live-long day up and down my street. Do I need to jump out in front of one and flag it down?
They escalate me to “Case Inquiries” and someone new.
Yep. Time to repeat the saga. Again. At the end, he asks, “What are the contents of your missing package?”
Dude.
I GOT MY PACKAGE. THIS IS ABOUT THE ONE YOU MISDELIVERED ON MY DOORSTEP. I JUST TOLD YOU THIS.
“We’re so sorry for your inconvenience.”
Stuff that, get this @%$#ing wet box off my stoop.
“I’m calling the delivery center and scheduling a rush pickup for you. They will be there today.”
Uh-huh. Heard that before. I ask what if they don’t show up? How about I call the company on the packing slip and tell them how utterly screwed up you’ve made this for them?
“We’ll get this resolved today for you.”
Day turns to night.

December 3

Dawn moves to lunchtime.
The. Box. Is. Still. There.
Redial the 800 number. I know how to slip right to live people, so at least that’s working for me.
New person! Okay, commence Saga with dates.
“I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this.”
Fix it, then. I need this gone; I’m going out of town for the holidays, and I don’t want this sitting here advertising I’m not home.
I get escalated to “Case Investigations.” I get mentally ready for the same stink, different day.
New person. Asks for clarification. Cue retelling of the saga. I refrain from adding sound effects.
“And what are the contents of the missing package?”
I think he heard the facepalm I gave myself. I explain as politely as one can in this situation.
“Your case was only opened yesterday; it’s not been a week.”
Dude. DUDE. YOU DO NOT GO THERE WITH ME. I explain, patiently, the entire timeline, including my original tracking number, the notification email dates (and timestamps!) the responses, the “confirmation number that really is a case number” assigned on 11/30 (so how’d I get that number 2 days before it was assigned?), the succession of calls since, and question just how much this local delivery station likes corporate since they keep blowing off these pickup requests?
“I understand and am sorry for your inconvenience. I will move this up the chain, and they’ll call you to confirm details and work out a course of action.”
I mute my eyeroll. “And when will that be?”
“48 hours, so probably Monday.”
And that’s where I lost it. I passive-aggressively (I can be good at this when all of my buttons are mashed down) explained how unacceptable that was, and demanded this be resolved within 24 hours or they would not like me calling back. I think a threat to call the original recipient was somewhere in there (hey, it sounded good at the time).
“Yes sir, sorry. I’m telling the center to send a driver out today…ah, yes, okay – a driver will collect the package between 4 and 6 pm today.”
You promise? What if they don’t show up?
“They will. I guarantee it.”
Morning turns to 4 pm to 6 pm to 10 pm to midnight.
The. Box. Is. Still. There.
(And it’s raining again.)

December 4

Day turns to night. I give grace and hope that on Monday, I’ll either get a call from “Investigations” or the driver was just so swamped they couldn’t make it out, and they’ll show up on Monday. Yeah, that’s what’s happened. I’ll give the benefit of the doubt.

December 5

Day turns to night. Guess what?
YUP.

December 6

Day turns to night. I don’t have time to call or deal with it, as I have to prep for travel. We’re leaving within 48 hours, lots to do.
The box stands, a soggy, sagging monument to happier times when you loved seeing a box delivered to your door.

December 7

Dawn. Our brown, boxy sentinel is still in place.
Today, I decide, is ENDGAME. One way or another, this saga will have its final stanza recited.
I call. It’s old hat by now; I and the phone tree are friends. I speak the secret word and await entrance, entertained by a piano sonata. It’s lovely with my coffee.
I smile as a rep comes online after 10 minutes.
New person. New audience.
I tell the tale of the Not My Package, Please Take It Away saga. I even pre-empt the response at the end. “I know you’re sorry for such inconvenience. I’m sorry I’m inconveniencing all of you with this tale of annoyance.”
I’m reassured they are sorry. She tells me that the system won’t schedule a pickup because the package didn’t show as delivered.
Wait, what?
She knows this because she used to work in a distro center. She tells me she will call the center near me, explain everything, and get a driver out today. Guaranteed. She’ll call me back in 10 minutes with time, confirmation, etc. And is it okay if they come tomorrow morning if they can’t fit it in today?
Well then. Cool? I’m leaving in the morning, but…if it’s a guarantee…
I agree and hang up. More coffee is consumed.
10 minutes pass. 45. 75.
I dial the familiar number and navigate.
Oh, goody, NEW PERSON.
The Saga is retold. Again. (I now understand the art of oral history.)
“Um, well, there are no notes or updates on this case since Friday, sir. Are you sure you—“
No. NO NO NO NO NO. Don’t you even dare.
“Get this off my porch today. TO. DAY.”
Again, I’m assured that the center is being contacted, and a driver will be scheduled. “I’m so sorry this has inconvenienced you.”
“Fine. Whatever. And when they don’t show up, I’m either throwing this out and contacting the receiver or driving it to the center and leaving it in the parking lot.”
I’m told, repeatedly, that those actions won’t be necessary.
I disagree, say so, and then hang up.
(I stopped answering their “did we make you happy?” exit survey after Call #3.)
Day passes to night. Dinner is consumed.
Box remains on the stoop, like some forelorn waterlogged obelisk.
6:35 pm, I exit the front door. The inset handle on the box is grabbed, and the package is dragged (because this thing is too awkward to carry) to my car. I manhandle it into the back.
6:56 pm, I arrive at the FedEx distro center. I pull up near the automatic doors and flip on the hazards.
6:57 pm, the box is dragged out of my car, along the sidewalk, and we pass through the first set of automatic doors. I see customers inside, along with several staff behind the counter. I smile at one person who sees me. I lean the box against the wall in the vestibule, between the two automatic doors. I exit and re-enter my car.
6:58 pm, I am driving away. I begin laughing and pull over after a quarter mile because I am laughing so hard I cannot breathe.
Here you go, FedEx. Now YOU can deal with the Not My Package and figure it all out.

I hope that the chaise cushion finds a home.

I hope that the warehouse gets its package.

I won’t say out loud what I hope FedEx gets.

I’m too polite that way. Sorry for the inconvenience!