Sure, they have some strict deadlines and I’m sure some jackass somewhere asking them to get a package from New York to Antarctica in nine and a half minutes, but really, the rest of the time they sit out in the sun, watching women in business suits walk by, smoking cigarettes and possibly some doobs.
That’s why I get utterly mystified when my courier packages go inexplicably missing, and the courier I call to ask about it sounds like the world is caving in underneath him so he has no time to look for it now but he’ll call me back. Which he obviously never does.
If there were a horror movie based around missing packages, I would be the star – especially if said packages were actually legal letters involving millions of dollars potentially incoming to The Company. The plot would go something like this:
A hard-working girl trying to make it big within The Company always takes the necessary precautions to send deliveries promptly – even marking a big red RUSH on each important envelope. A crazed letter-hungry thief stalks each courier that has the girl’s letters and takes out vengeance upon them. Crazed guy turns out to be her boss’s old assistant, fired for stealing paperclips and toilet paper; now out for revenge. There would be some sort of secondary plotline involving a love story or possibly a plan to take over the world.
So this morning, I hand-delivered a Very Important Letter to avoid any risk of it being lost. Somehow a package was delivered to this same address last week, signed for and everything. However, no one at that company recognizes the signature. Nor can the letter be found. My plotline isn’t too far off I tell you.
Anyhow, walking over there, through the Plus 15*, I discovered one of the greatest joys of having long hair ever: a wind tunnel. Obviously I had to stop and make Marilyn-esque poses. For half an hour.
Don’t you worry; the package did eventually get there and yet again the heroine** saved the day. Now excuse me while I go fix my hair.
[Update: I just got to walk through the wind tunnel again in search of a garbage can (I’m an integral part of the team). The average price of garbage cans at The Bay is $147.99. Seriously for $147.99 my garbage can had better compact my garbage, take it to the dumpster and give me a massage when it gets back. Who the hell pays $147.99 for a garbage can? No wonder they sold the company.]
*Equivalent to a Skywalk. Otherwise known as a gerbil-tunnel that connects one building to another in the downtown core, 15 feet above the ground
** Not to be confused with the drug heroine – which I’m sure has not saved many a day, rather made many a day much, much worse. But I digress.