Sorry, the sexy erotica piece I had been working on will now be delayed until my mind stops racing in trying to figure this out, and my blood pressure settles down from the anger.
Maybe I’m making a big deal out of this. Reviewers, chime in, ok? Has anything like this ever happened to you?
So the lovely Cici sent me a Hitachi Love Seat to review. Priority mail, and thankfully a tracking number. I inquired about it yesterday I think and she gave me the number today. Punched it in……”Delivered on 9/16″…..oh hell.
My apartment isn’t the sort where you go inside a main door and all the apartment doors are in there. No, packages that get left, get left on doorsteps. But its that way with everybody. I’ve been concerned before, when it comes to expensive items, but now I see the point behind signatures being necessary for delivery. In the year plus that I’ve been reviewing, I’ve never had anything go missing. Heck not even in the whole time we’ve lived here, no matter what. Until this week.
I’ve emailed Cici and found that the label was indeed correct, so it’s either the case of it being swiped from my doorstep or the mailman put it at the wrong door. At first we thought that perhaps the wrong apartment number was on the label, and that would explain the next bit…..
I got my package today (sunday) and it was opened. The top of the box flaps folded in so that it was semi-closed. The mailing label was ripped off (if it had the wrong addy on it, it could have identified who opened it, but since it was my addy…..god knows why they ripped it off). I open it, it is indeed my Love Seat. The seat was in a clear poly bag, taped shut and the little manual/pamphlet was shoved down inside the spot where the Hitachi goes down in (Cici relayed that info to me). So, it was down in there and this person dug it out. They put the seat back in the bag and tossed the pamphlet in the box.
It took them FOUR DAYS to return it to me. Why even return it to me at that point, in that condition??? It’s creepy, I’m freaked out. It’s worse because today is the one day I can’t call anybody – not the apartment complex managers, not the post office. Rest assured I’m calling them tomorrow. I won’t let them brush this off. It was mail, isn’t that a federal offense?
Cici is recommending I wash it and I agree, just in case. It’s not dirty, it doesn’t look used.
I’m just pissed off and creeped out.