Mrs. Green, In the Kitchen, With the Mugs Part 4

As I read back over this tale, I am acutely aware of the fact that this is most definitely a "first-world" experience. I am not in the least bit cavalier about how blessed and fortunate I am and I am certainly not trying to to be glib about anything described here. But this is my life and I am just trying to live it the best way I know how. It's just a bit of fun. That said, as we enter into the days of Chanukah this evening, I would like to suggest that each of us self-examine our lives and share a few our blessings with others. What that looks like is entirely up to you, but let's not forget that we live in a time and place of great inequality. Let's send some of what makes us fortunate into the world at large.

So...the mugs.

I really loved those mugs. I felt such a sisterhood with Oprah over a set of twenty-ounce ceramic mugs. I have never connected with Oprah over anything. After years of watching and later reading her Favourite Things issue and finding it laden with shit like asthma attack-inducing bath salts or oversized purses which I never carry, I finally found something that I really liked...and wanted...and was reasonably priced even without the View Your Deal discount that I lost with my procrastination. So I did what any reasonable person looking to buy herself a gift and who had access to Amazon Prime would do, I ordered the damn mugs for a expedited two-day delivery.

That's when I met Mrs. Green.

Amazon, as most people understand, merely acts as a third party weigh station for a myriad of companies. Think of it as an online general store. They carry a shitload of products and arrange for the deliveries, but they don't create the products. Individual companies are responsible for their wares. Soon after I made the click via Amazon Prime, I was contacted by Mrs. Green.

Mrs. Green is the agent for Yedi Housewares who are the makers of the mugs. Yes, she goes by the ubiquitous handle of Mrs. Green. There is no first name, just Mrs. Green. I have spent the last week trying to discern why somebody in business in 2018 would sign her letters as just Mrs. Green. Not Mrs. ??? Green, just Mrs. Green. Is she a former schoolteacher and needs to keep the Mrs. in her life? Is there still a Mr. Green that she wants to honour? Is her given name something stupid and embarrassing like Jean or Kelly or Stringbean? I found the signature odd. I mean. Who still does that?

Mrs. Lime? Green sent me a thank you note, via Amazon, for my purchase. She seemed mildly verklempt that I had thought enough of her mugs to actually purchase them and she promised me that she would take care of any problems should they arise.

Mrs. Snot? Green obviously had no idea who or what she was dealing with.

I handled Mrs.  Booger? Green's email the way I handled most emails from Amazon, I threw it into my trash file and forgot about it. I had an idea as to the delivery date and after they arrived, Mrs. Chartreuse? Green would be a glorious afterthought.

On Monday, I received a message from our security desk that I had a package. It was like I was at camp again and Mom had sent cookies. I raced downstairs with eager anticipation to this box.

(I have removed the shipping labels for internet consumption.)
Inside that, a perfectly intact box was this perfectly intact box surrounded by bubble wrap.

Inside that, a perfectly intact box was this styrofoam protective covering.

And underneath that...well...

Three out of six came broken. Packed in all of that non-biodegradable packing shit and they came in pieces. I mean...fucking shards!! The broken bits are actually inside of the mugs. They weren't displaced in their cozy individual slots. They were just fucking busted to bits.

Mrs. Avocado? Green...we have a huge problem.

My first thought was just to return them. You have to do some searching on Amazon's site to find their troubleshooting, but it is there and it is really easy. Amazon is happy to take back the item if...their box is intact, which it clearly is, I print off a shipping label, and return the package to a UPS outlet at Mailboxes Etc. by February 1/19. I would receive a full refund NO RETURN SHIPPING COST INCURRED! Have I mentioned how much I love Jeff Bezos? This is how customer service is done in 2018. 

I made my complaint via Amazon's grievance system, printed off the shipping label, and just for good measure, I attempted to send Mrs. Puke? Green a return email of her obsequious thank you note. What happened next....well...

The hopeful conclusion to this ridiculous but really mundane story tomorrow.

Same Dawn time. Same Dawn URL.

Chag Urim Sameach to all who observe. Please find a way to make somebody's life a bit easier this holiday season through either your time or your donations. We are all so very blessed.

Mrs. Green, In the Kitchen, With the Mugs Part 3

In this time of massive political unrest and tensions that seem to transcend the borders of even the most loyal and venerable of friends, we all are searching for crumbs of sanity and reminders of what works in this world as opposed to all of those things that we now know to be broken. At this season in which we celebrate light and rededication, I believe that I have stumbled across the one thing that gives us a renewed hope, the only functioning entity in a ruptured universe. Where there once was darkness, we now can see the illuminated path forward because of and solely through the efforts of.....

Amazon Prime.

Never before has a corporate behemoth meant so much to so many who really require absolutely NOTHING of what they have to offer. And yet...we continue to mindlessly, and blindly, browse, click, and order as if our very lives depended on owning reusable shoe bags or a battery-powered squeegee with an attached water vacuum. But...but...but those bags were marked at 50% off and that two-day delivery? Must have shoe bags. Must have them NOW!

Amazon has hit on the most brilliant shopping model since the birth of the mega-mall. Sell the public a shitload of dross that they most obviously don't need, sell it cheaply, deliver it quickly, without the fuss or crowds of a traditional shopping experience, and most importantly, offer impeccable customer service when something goes wrong. It is nirvana for introverts and it is a mecca for shopping-haters. I would french-kiss Jeff Bezos right now if I didn't think I would get arrested for sexual assault. (And just for that added, extra zing...the man owns The Washington Post. I think I'm in love.) 

Amazon Prime is an amazing innovation. With the touch of a button, you can order almost anything your addled brain can possibly conjure up and have it delivered right to your front door in two days or less. Groceries? Not a problem. He owns Whole Foods. Baby equipment? Jeff had me covered. Make-up? It arrived in a day. We can discuss the evils of conspicuous consumption or the insidiousness of data-mining, but for the day to day living necessities, Amazon is my panacea. And American Amazon? Holy shit, I've died and have a suite next to Aretha. American friends, you have no idea how good you've got it until you've tried to order something from Amazon Canada only to discover that they won't deliver it to you. American Amazon is sublime.

This love letter to Amazon is relevant to our story. I promise.

Now that the kitchen was finally clean and mostly put back together, I felt that I deserved a bit of self-care. I wanted to mark the occasion of newness with something small, but useful. I wasn't interested in making a big deal out of it and I didn't even mention my thoughts to The Husband but I felt that we were deserving of a small gift. Nothing fancy. Just something that gave the new kitchen a new start.

I was flipping through channels on our first morning of downtime since we arrived at The Southern Home when I came across The View. I will admit that there was a time in my history when I watched The View with some regularity. I liked the debate of differing ideas amongst women of differing ages but that moment in time has long passed. I never liked Elisabeth Hasselbeck as the token conservative but she was a genius compared to Meghan McCain. I haven't watched since what's his name became the resident of the Oval. But that day, something on The View caught my eye. They were doing a segment called View Your Deal and were offering pre-Thanksgiving bargains for various items. It gets worse. Apparently, The View is now partnering with....Oprah...for this deal segment and all of the stuff they were hawking was from Oprah's Annual Favourite Things Christmas issue.

Hoo Boy. I was in BIIIIG trouble.

This is the item that caught my eye.

A set of six jumbo 20-ounce mugs from Yedi Houseware.  Here's another shot of my new heart's desire.

I wish I could say that I was quick enough to order them that day but as is usually the case when I think about an impulse purchase, I hesitated. I missed the View Your Deal special that expired after twenty-four hours. And then came the remorse. And then came the anger. And then came the self-examination. And then came the realization that I could still order the damn mugs if I really wanted them. And then...like a Diet Coke in the desert...along came Amazon Prime.

So now you know about the kitchen and you also know about the mugs. Mrs. Green? She will be revealed in our next episode. But tell me...aren't those mugs just really fucking amazing. Oprah may be a lot of things but the woman has great taste.

Tomorrow. Same Dawn time. Same Dawn URL.

Dare I Say It...A Company With Heart

I have spent a great deal of time ragging on major corporations and their lack of what I have laughingly referred to as "customer service." Airlines, cable companies, cellular providers, and the like have all found their way into this space as the recipients of my "one thousand lashes with a wet noodle' brand of personal retribution. In most cases, these large companies have been deserving of my wrath and so much more in the way of legally acceptable punishment, but I feel it only fair to offer up a positive story of big business catering to its customers, even if that occurrence is so very rare.

Case in point.

Upon our arrival at the Southern Home, The Husband and I determined that it was time to replace the chairs that had been occupying our balcony for the past fifteen years. Sun, salt, and water had aged the old furniture, and while we didn't want to spend an ungodly sum to replace it, the balcony is our place of refuge and was deserving of an upgrade. I suggested that we consider gravity chairs similar to the ones we used to enjoy when we had the pool. The chairs, while probably not the most artistic or beautiful pieces ever designed are reasonably priced, aesthetically adequate, and truly the most comfortable things I have ever sat in. For a woman of short stature with incredibly short legs, this statement is one you should all take seriously. Seating spaces are usually of great discomfort for me. The Husband was totally onboard with the plan, and after making arrangements to donate the old chairs, he went about the task of ordering the new.

Online shopping is either one of the greatest inventions of the twenty-first century or the one of the most aggravating, depending on individual case studies. In this example, it proved to be the former rather than the latter. The Husband found exactly what we were searching for at Amazon.com. Now before you all wail and moan about your miseries with Amazon and how they are the devil's spawn, hear me out. The Husband ordered a package of two chairs for a charge of about $68.00, delivery and tax included. The chairs showed up two days later perfectly intact and ready for lounging. I was so impressed with them that I suggested to him that the balcony could really handle two more. He readily agreed and went back to his original order and placed another for two additional chairs.

Here's where the story gets interesting.

The second delivery arrived the very next day, even though there were no Prime directive nor special delivery instructions involved. The Husband was amazed by the service and I was thrilled with the new chairs. Until...

Later that evening The Husband informs me that he had just received an odd email from Amazon informing him that our order for two gravity chairs had just been shipped. Remember now. We had just received that order in the morning. Could it really be possible that yet another two chairs were on the way?

The Husband went back into his orders and it was very clear that he had only made TWO purchases. He has no idea how a third order might have been placed and there was absolutely ZERO evidence that we were being charged for three rather than two. We decided to play it cool and hope that the third shipment was an erroneous email.

Well...It wasn't. On Saturday evening the third shipment arrived. I relayed the story to several friends here and they all laughed at our good fortune. Let's face it. Errors in our favour rarely happen. Enjoy the windfall, they said.

But...I just couldn't do it. It simply felt dishonest and I could not live with myself unless we made it right. The Husband felt exactly the same way, and while we had decided to keep the extra set, we needed to rectify the situation and pay for them.

Easier said than done. Upon looking at the emails we received, it became clear that Amazon outsources these chairs to a third party, and given that the orders were so close together, we have no idea which party sent the extra set. The Husband decided to send Amazon's customer service an email in an attempt to sort it out. Here's an excerpt.

After the first order, I decided to reorder as I liked the product. Interestingly enough, the second order (done with 1-click reorder) was fulfilled by a different seller at a slightly higher price. This was not a problem for me. 

However, I actually received 3 deliveries. Clearly, one was in error, but I don't know if the one sent in error was from the first or second seller. I'd like to pay for the extra order since returning it is a hassle, but I don't know which seller the extra delivery came from?Can you help? 

Within two hours, yes two hours on a Sunday, he received the most amazing response. Here's an excerpt. (Emphasis is mine.)

We always like to hear from our customers, and we're glad you took the time to write in; we appreciate your loyalty.

I understand your concern that you've received an extra item.
Please understand that we wouldn't want you to get charged for the extra item. I request you to please accept the item as a goodwill gesture from our end.

We wouldn't want you to go through the trouble of returning the item. You're welcome to keep, donate or dispose of it--whichever option is most appropriate and convenient for you.

It is our privilege to have you as our valued customer & we want to make sure you are always taken care of.

I hope this helps. We look forward to seeing you again soon.

Now I am not deluding myself that Amazon isn't merely writing this off as the cost of doing business, but it is important to note that there was tremendous decency in the response. And while we have decided to keep the chairs, we are also making a donation for the cost of them to a charity that provides furniture for women who have fled from domestic abuse and are now setting up their own homes.

It is easy to be cynical in this world of nastiness and pettiness. This week, a little glimmer of positivity from a major corporation managed to remind me that sometimes the world isn't as shitty as it seems.