Amateur Delivery Hour

Fernando comes down to the store early one day because he is expecting his weekly allotment of movies to arrive. By being at the store, he can ensure they come into his possession and he can set them up and subsequently rent them out all with minimal fuss. Usually the UPS guy comes through between 11 AM and 1 PM, but since Fernando has been at the Dominion since 10 AM things seem like they could not go wrong.

Pssssssssshhhhhahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Come half past 1, Fernando grows increasingly perturbed by his dearth of inventory, so he double-checks the shipment tracker. He heads to the distributor's website to get his incredibly long tracking code and copy-pastes that into the UPS website. The page that pops up after Fernando clicks “SUBMIT” proves equally enlightening and infuriating.

Apparently a shipment attempt was made at 1.12 PM local time. Because “the receiver's location was closed,” the delivery could not go as scheduled and another attempt will be made the following day.

This sounds rather legitimate, except for the teensy detail that Fernando was at the damn store the whole time. Either UPS came into a great deal of disposable income and invested in some damn fine cloaking technology for their vehicles or Fernando is dealing with monumental levels of ineptitude.

So he makes a phone call to the local UPS store. -Ring ring ring-

“UPS Store, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, this is Fernando Stevens calling from the Dominion of Movies in Saladolsa. I was expecting a shipment to arrive today and when I checked the tracking info it seems that a delivery attempt was made.”

“Well, sir, we're just the shipment center, so I actually can't help you with that. Let me get you a number you can call where you can receive assistance. Are you ready?”

Fernando tells her that he is and she rattles off a 1-800 number for him to call. Fernando thanks her for her help and then proceeds to dial it.

“Welcome to the UPS automated customer service. Para español oprima uno.”

Sigh.

Fernando is presented with four choices which he may say. None of them are what he wants, namely a real person on the line. He holds his peace and the robot-lady repeats herself after pretending to be sorry that she could not hear him.

Fernando keeps waiting. Robot-Lady goes through her spiel two more times with increasingly exasperated words appended to her rote recitations. First it is, “Sorry,” then, “Please speak louder,” then she began presenting Fernando with numerical alternatives for the options, which were no doubt enacted through pressure from the mime lobby.

After about three minutes of Robot-Lady talking to herself, she finally says, “If you would like to speak with a live representative, please press 0.” Fernando does.

A different robot-lady now says, “Please hold. A customer representative will be with you shortly.” Fernando is then shunted to Inoffensive Muzak Land, where atonal saxophones hork a repetitive sequence of notes. Second Robot-Lady interrupts every thirty seconds with, “Please hold. A customer service representative will be with you shortly,” and this is Inoffensive Muzak's cue to loop the reel.

Fernando sits down and begins typing up this Chronicle as he waits.

Fernando just got a live customer service representative on the line now.

“UPS customer service, how may I help you?” says a woman with a faint Hispanic accent.

“Hi, my name is Fernando Stevens and I'm calling from the Dominion of Movies in Saladolsa. I was expecting a parcel to arrive and I just checked the tracking information. A delivery attempt was made here at 1.12 my time but I've been here since the morning and I didn't see any of your trucks pass by.”

“Could you get me the tracking number, please?” she asks.

Fernando takes a deep breath and reads off the 25-digit monstrosity. After a pause, the woman on the other end says, “Yes, that seems to have been the case. It seems that this is the second delivery attempt, is this correct?”

“If that's what it says. I was not around yesterday when the delivery was made so I actually can't vouch for it, though.”

“And you received a notice slip informing you that the delivery attempt was made today?”

“Actually, no. I didn't even see the truck pass by.”

“I understand, sir. Could you give me your last name, sir?”

“Stevens. S-T-E-V-E-N-S. But the package is probably addressed to the Dominion of Movies.”

Fernando faintly hears keys click-clacking. “Yes, I see. Your phone number?”

Fernando provides it. More faint typing. “Okay, sir, we will contact the driver and inform him that you are expecting the delivery. Are your business hours clearly posted on the door?”

“They are, but I'm usually here well in advance of when I open when I expect a delivery.”

“Very good, sir. Allow me to place you on hold while I process this information.”

“Okay, thank you.” Fernando is returned to the Land of Inoffensive Muzak where he waits for about three minutes until he is disconnected from the call, presumably by the customer service representative.

Fernando types up to this point in the Chronicle and polishes up the stuff he wrote before. Then he waits. The customers who enter the store expecting a bounty of new media to consume are left disappointed, and for that Fernando apologizes.

His movies arrive the following day at about 10:30 AM.