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F*ck the UPS Delivery Thingy [evening mood] [Edited]

Yes, fuck UPS and their shitty parcel follow-up and delivery system. Their so-called online service that is supposedly intended to help you postpone your delivery or re-route it to another address according to your schedule, forcing you to register an account with details forever recorded in their database, only to provide you with a "Service temporarily unavailable" page, please call the blah-blah number - which of course is a vocal server that would make any geek go enrolling to Anonymous (whatever the color of the hat, possibly red like anger if not black like a death wish).

One piece of advice to anyone willing to set up their own online business: please give your customers the ability to choosing the carrier. Postal services may be a bit slower but, from what I have experienced, they prove to be just as much reliable and way less intrusive in the end.

[and now I'm gonna pop up open a beer, duh]

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Today, scheduled delivery day, I received a call at work from the delivery man as I was not answering at my door. I explained what he - obviously - already knew: re-programing the delivery through their website was a pain in the nuts and failed, and asked if he could as be gentle as to re-deliver tomorrow as I'd be off and at home for the next two days.

"No problem, said the man. We'll re-deliver at your place tomorrow."

I warmly thanked him for taking care of it and - quite candidly - felt satisfied.

Only to find a notice in my letterbox when getting back home tonight stating that my parcel would be waiting for me to pick it up as from tomorrow at the local UPS depot which is... on the opposite side of my town, an approximate 8 minutes walk from where I work.

First: go to hell, you errand boy who cannot be trusted, you missed the thank you blow-job of your life.

Second: forcing me to to use the Tram as if I was going to work but on a day I should spend resting amongst the jungle that my terrace became this spring... this I will remember, UPS. And my wrath will be a dish served so cold that the hell’s flames I’ll be sending you in will not suffice to help you swallow it. (Yes, I can have quite the drama-Queen side)

End of the story, I Hope. Just like I hope that the parcel I'll be picking up tomorrow will be in good shape...

Now time to enjoy the sunset looking at my beloved plants with a fresh amber beer at hand, mm…

(if you read this till the end then you’re a darling)