Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Okay, I know that it is the holidays and for that reason alone slack should be granted to the poor schlubs who are working exceptionally long, seasonal hours to deliver packages across the country before the good ol’ Saint Nick deadline of December 24, but right now I am beyond angry. Just five minutes ago, my Mastiff gave me the pleading look of “oh dear goodness, I need to go outside or you need to get the Bissell” so I wrapped up what I was doing and went to the front door to let her out. Now, our yard doesn’t have a fence and our dog is one of those freakish varieties that won’t run away, stays on our property and comes back to the door as soon as her business is addressed, so I thought nothing of it when I opened the front door, realized it was raining and stepped back to wait for my 118 lbs of pooch to return. Seeing as she’s more terrified of rain and water than I am (and that is saying something), she ran down the front steps, skipped her typical condeming look of “wait, you aren’t coming with me?” and proceeded to run out into the darkness. Wanting to keep a watchful eye on her for good measure, I flipped on the front porch light and waited for her to reappear with a wet-cat skulk.
Scampering up to the door, I opened it and looked down to watch her track wet paw prints into the foyer when I saw it. A lone cardboard package sitting just beside the door on the brick landing in the puddle that perpetually forms whenever it rains. Now, I could be mad at the person who incomprehensibly formed the stoop to be concave at just the precise location where packages were apt to be delivered, but they screwed up back in the 1970s and I am fairly positive that the statute of limitations on that one has expired. The UPS guy, however, knows better. Having delivered package upon package to this address over the last year, he’s aware of the circumstances that surround our house: the stoop collects water, the dog barks when you knock or ring the door bell, we always answer the door and say “thank you” regardless of our streetability (I’ll wear what makes me comfortable, dang it, and I don’t care if we live in the “south” make-up should be optional at home), the newly awake child screaming (no it wasn’t nap time, she’s just really excited to see you), or whatever is on the stove (quick someone stir that!).
But tonight, despite all we’ve been through and come to treat as routine, there was no knock on the door or constructive use of the door bell. There was no barky-dog to alert us of the thoroughly vulnerable package that was placed directly in to the formed (and growing) puddle. And there most certainly isn’t an appropriate application of the word “thank you” to be found on these lips as UPS messed up R-O-Y-A-L-L-Y.
This could have been a run of the mill Christmas package - something we ordered or someone carefully selected, packed and sent our way - but it wasn’t. No, it was far from a frivolous purchase that would have received a muttered curse word and eventual shake of the head with ”what a shame.” Instead, this package contained medical supplies - three months worth of my continuous glucose monitor sensors to be exact - that I use on a daily basis and rely upon for their unfailing accuracy and constant data for my glucose control. Something that a night’s worth of sitting in the rain would have destroyed, cost me or the supplier, Dexcom, hundreds of dollars to replace and would have left Baby and me up a creek with the occasional finger prick as my source of sugar control. I’ve long since left behind the CGM-hating band wagon and Lord help anyone (talking to you, UPS!) who gets between me and my necessary - YES NECESSARY - medical technology…
All I can say at this point (suffice it to say their customer service will be getting an ear full tomorrow) is Thank God the dog needed to go out just then, thank God I turned on the front porch lights for her despite the need for them, and thank God I had that disparaging thought about her wet paws causing me to look down and notice the package when I did. If this sequence of events hadn’t occurred, my head would have exploded upon finding the mushy pile of trash waiting for me in the morning. But, fortunately, the cardboard was thick, the boxes of sensors insulated by tissue paper and the sensors individually wrapped in sterile plastic - meaning I got lucky and the damage is largely restricted to the exterior packaging. Thank you little baby Jesus!
To the nincompoop who skipped putting the package in a sealed plastic bag, opted out of notifying us of it’s delivery and voluntarily left the box in an EXISTING puddle, whoever you are, here’s your sign. That was excessively dumb, poorly executed and completely unnecessary. Clearly someone up there is watching out for you, too, but come on man! Not. Cool.