In which I’m really seriously not Amazon

amazon.jpgI’m starting to develop some ridiculous not-actually-PTSD form of PTSD about the word “delivery.”  I don’t wanna hear it anymore and I’m starting to encourage my people to do whatever the hell they need to do to pick their shit up so that it cuts down on the bullshit I have to put up with to schedule deliveries.

Short version: we need another truck and no less than three new delivery guys.  But we do not have them, at least in part because corporate has not yet been convinced to invest in the truck, which the employees are not about to pool their money to buy.  We have one truck, one delivery guy and a series of temps who keep quitting, some (including today’s) who quit in the middle of their goddamned shifts.  These types of things have detrimental effects on getting everyone the furniture they want and deserve in a proper amount of time.  Then people call me.  And they yell at me.  Even though I had nothing to do with any part of this.  It’s getting tiring.

And these things have a cascade effect, so right now for various reasons we’re scheduling deliveries about a week and a half out.  It can get worse if you live in the middle of gatdamb nowhere, as lots of people in northern Indiana and southern Michigan do.  We might only get out to your neck of the woods (literal fucking woods) one day a week, and if that day is already full for some reason you get to wait for the next one.

I understand it’s inconvenient.  It’s also inconvenient that I don’t get paid until your shit is in your house.   So believe me when I say that I want your shit in your house as much as you do, because I don’t get paid until it is, okay?  But I don’t drive the damn truck and I can’t put twenty-five goddamn deliveries on it on the same day because then ten of those people don’t get their shit and this starts all over again.

Motherfuckers are spoiled by Amazon, is what I’m saying.  People are conditioned to think that they can get goddamn anything within two days.  And if I had distribution centers all over the damn country and UPS and FedEx and the US Postal Service at my disposal, I might be able to make that shit happen.

I don’t.

Deal with it.  Thank you.

Today’s highlight:  calling a guy listed as picking up two nightstands to tell him his nightstands that he was going to pick up were there and that he should come to pick up his two nightstands.

The second I started telling him the warehouse hours he started yelling at me.  Bitching and yammering about how he’d “spoken to the truck driver that morning” and that he was supposed to get his shit delivered tonight.  I know for a fact he didn’t talk to our damn delivery driver, who was going to Chicago this morning because jesus fuck I don’t even want to to get into it.

He probably ranted for three solid minutes until I got a damn word in edgewise and he realized that I was calling about the nightstands he was going to pick up GEE ASSHOLE WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA and not the other furniture that he’d ordered from somewhere else, at which point he transitioned directly into interrogating me about warehouse hours (which was when he interrupted me, remember) without a single syllable of apology about the yelling and cussing.

I got raised better than this.  I thought everyfuckingbody got raised better than this.  Clearly not.

9 thoughts on “In which I’m really seriously not Amazon

  1. I really have no idea when or why I developed a base-level, default, equal compassion for all human beings. For instance, I’m upset by events where there is a “servant class” going around hand out hors d’ouvres and picking up empty glasses. And I think this is where this kind of attitude problem stems from: the sense of entitlement that someone else is “beneath you” and you can freely berate that person. It’s all so strange, sad, and overwhelming.

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    1. Hmm. I feel like you’re talking about two different things here; just to pick a recent example, there were people floating around with hors d’ouvres at my brother’s wedding recently, but as far as I was able to tell everyone around treated them like people. Not being demanding assholes, saying thank you, all that. The trick is to remember these folks have lives that don’t revolve around you and– critically– if you’re genuinely pissed about something that someone has done wrong, making sure you express your anger at the proper targets. 🙂

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  2. They’re everywhere. Sixth Sense should have been ‘I hear rude people’.
    People are so used to fast food, speed dating, 2 minutes breakfast Burritos (for breakfast? Really?), instant coffee, next day delivery, that they become so irrationally impatient when something can’t be delivered before the sun sets.
    Sometimes I think that even if we invented an actual Transporter, like in Star Trek, some dipstick would be standing next to it, pressing the button three or four times to make it ‘go’ faster!

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