One Fuck-UPS Too Many

"What can brown do for you?" That's the mantra that the United Parcel Service lives by, and, based on my recent experiences with them, will die by. If the past two and a half weeks are any indication, brown can't do diddly for me. Speaking of which, brown is an apt color scheme for them; it's the most accurate metaphor for their shitacular service. From now on, my mind will forever equate UPS's palette with steaming piles of Doberman dookie.

All I wanted was my damn poster that I ordered from the Obama store (P.S. our next President will be Black! Except for his white half, of course). All I got was two delivery notices, incompetent service reps trying to talk me out of murdering one of their truck drivers, three donuts and two cups of coffee. The latter two are courtesy of Dunkin Donuts, a truly awesome company that rose to the occasion and *gasp* actually gave me what I wanted when I requested it. And they even gave me an extra squirt of vanilla at BOTH locations, no questions asked.

Unfortunately, this story isn't about how awesome DD is (though this fact is undeniable). That would be too easy.

My loopy fiasco (see what I did there?) with UPS began with their initial attempt to send my package to my apartment. I caught my first whiff of the shitstorm that was brewng when I found one of those nifty info-notice postcards in my mailbox, instead of the box I was expecting. Usually, UPS leaves the package by the mailboxes; the explanation on my postcard was that my address was incomplete on the shipping label, therefore my package was undeliverable and brought back to the "local" shipping center (more on this later).

The first thing I tried to do was pick up my package from the local shipping center. I HopStopped the address on the postcard, and after work the next day went on my merry way to Midwood to pick up my package. I got to Midwood slightly later than expected, but the bigger surprise was still in store. The address on the postcard led me to an antique furniture shop. I asked the guy at the desk where the hell UPS was (since this clearly was not it), and he pointed out a Google map printout I missed on the way in. Because of the format of the address on UPS's postcard, I went to the wrong place; I was supposed to be in Canarsie, a lifetime (ok, like two train rides) away. At that point, it was too late to try to pick it up at the correct location, so I stopped at the local Dunkin Donuts for a tasty treat before heading home.

I wish this was the end, but the agony was just staring to be fully realized.

I figured that since my little excursion didn't pan out, I would try to have the package re-delivered to my place. Although I was sure I wrote my full address in the shipping info section of my order, I decided I would re-confirm it anyway. I called UPS to correct my address (including the apartment number), and also decided to re-schedule my delivery for Veteran's Day since I would be home and able to sign for the package if need be. I hung up the phone assuming that everything was set for a convenient delivery.

Veteran's Day arrived. My package did not.

I got on the horn with UPS to find out what went wrong with my arrangement. It turned out that their archaic computer system can't process two service changes at once, and therefore goofed when it was supposed to re-schedule my delivery for Veteran's Day. As a result, my package was returned to the sender, even though I had in good faith called before the return date to make arrangements for the package to be re-delivered.

Long story short, the sender in Ohio now had my package, so UPS was essentially useless at this point. I left a voicemail with the Obama store to check and see if they could re-ship my package for me. As luck would have it, they called back later in the afternoon to let me know that they did plan to re-send it to me. I confirmed my address, for the third time, and crossed my fingers in hope of a smoother delivery than the last.

This afternoon, I saw a second info-notice from UPS regarding my package's delivery. This time, they left a local number for the shipping center in Canarsie. I called it to confirm that they sent it to the right place, and the lady on the other end told me that if I wanted to, I could just pick up the package later tonight. I asked her to confirm this for me, since that arrangement was past normal business hours. She reassured me that this was legit, and I gaily went on my way to what would become the L train tour of misery.

For those that don't know Brooklyn, I live in Flatbush, which is much closer to Manhattan than Canarsie. In fact, Canarsie is very close to Long Island proper. As well, there's no direct train to Canarsie from my area; I had to catch a Q to Manhattan, and transfer to the L and ride it to the second to last stop. All in all, this is about an hour and a half ride in the NYC subway system. Not the most pleasant ride ever, especially if it serves no end purpose.

Once I reached the UPS locale, I went inside to claim my prize. Much to my dismay, I ran into yet another speed bump on the road to my poster. It turns out that the lady on the local phone line had misinformed me; I was supposed to confirm my pickup through the main UPS number, not the local shipping center. However, I was never told that when I called the local center; I was led to believe that it was ok to confirm it through them, even as I asked for clarification to avoid the exact situation that was happening.

So there I was, stuck out in west carajoland, and I just had to spaz. I found a supervisor and I let him have it. I'm normally a very calm, chill person; the raving lunatic at the UPS counter was some other guy that stole my ID. I was slamming my fists on the counter, calling the manager and his momma the biggest pile of fuckups I ever had the displeasure of doing business with.  I called them out on their incompence, as well as their failure to step their computer system up to 2008 service levels, both of which could possibly have saved me a ton of time, headache, rollover minutes and empty calories. Hell yeah, I found a Dunkin Donuts to bring back my sanity through its sugary delights.

To make matters worse, I'm still pissed because my package, as well as my vaualbe free time, is being hamstrung by a bunch of idiots whose company can't even update themselves enough to have the right hand know what the left hand is shipping. How the hell do I call the local shipping center to ask if I can pick up a package, without them saying that I have to talk to the central HQ on the 1-800 number first? How fucking hard is that?!

Needless to say, since I really want my poster, I will be calling UPS in the morning to make arrangements for a late pick-up. I have zero illusions as to whether or not this will acually work. At this point, I'll be surprised if I end up with a parcel in my hands at the end of this ordeal. I'll also be surprised if I don't end up going stabby on the next shit-suited bastard I walk by pretending to be the delivery guy the porn movies make him dream he was.

No wonder FexEx had five times UPS's operating income last year; in this economy, UPS can't afford to fuck shit up like this. What can brown do for me? A good start would be kissing my Black ass.

Comments

[JNL]

sorry for your ordeal, but seriously I feel your pain I always get a feeling of dread everytime I see that something is being shipped via UPS....I have a plethora of "borwn" stories to tell