Automated fake idiot recording people piss me the hell off and I about lost all my marbles today trying to locate a package that has entered the Bermuda Triangle aka the F-bomb Post Office. Yes, F-bomb, I’m so royally pissed off I could spit right now.
So, after my Hippotherapy class that I took last week, it became clear to me that the rhythm of the horse’s gait pattern is key to many aspects of what my OT kids need in the clinic. However, not all of them can do the Hippotherapy for various reasons, but I could see where they needed this so bad so I wanted to simulate it the best way that I could.
During the class I found my soul mate sister, I’ll call her Rose, and she introduced me to two machines that mimic the gait of a horse in the best they can. One machine was in the thousands of dollars and this girl can’t afford such luxury. The other was called the iGallop, which I could afford.
Too excited to express, I got online to find one and wow there were a lot of varying prices. I settled on one on Ebay because it was a great price, new, and the shipping I could handle as it is not light.
Well, the Post Office decided that it would lose the package in the bowels of their darkened going-postal mail room and no one knows where the hell it is. I have been back and forth with the sweet Ebay person as they are concerned about getting a bad review, which I assured them I would never do as this is not their fault.
Ebay person gave me the tracking number so I typed the 3,245 digits that make up this supposed tracking number and this is what it said:
“Scan delay at 3:38 pm on August 8th, postal locker issue. Will deliver the next business day.”
Now, unless a pack of raccoons have hauled it off somewhere to get their horse riding simulation kicks, that sucker has not been here. I let Ebay person know and they suggested I call the Post Office, which I found quite amusing as I have been there in person and not one damn employee answers that phone. But, I tried anyway and sure enough it rang and rang and rang to infinity.
So, I called the satellite Post Office at the Rite Aid and explained to them what was going on. She chuckled and said, “Yea, pretty sure they aren’t going to answer that phone, you may have to go down there.” Um, thanks Lady Obvious.
I thought I’d give a call to the 1-800 number because surely the general number can help me . . . well, this is where I went mad . . .
Automated dummy: (AD)
“Please listen to all of the following options which number about 64.5 so you are going to be on this phone with me for an eternity. You should pee first as you might not be able to hold it for the first 72 hours.”
“Oh just stinkin’ grand.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that, I’m going to repeat the menu all over again from the beginning because you said something I couldn’t make out and I’m assuming you have all day long to listen to me.”
(In my head) FFFFFFFFF-BomB!
AD: (379.5 hourse later . . . )
“If none of these options fit your need, please press zero, which I could have said first but didn’t, and someone will be with you shortly.”
(In my head) Are you freaking kidding me right now?
“I’m sorry but the operator has left the building so the rest of your Post Office experience will be with me, Granny Automation, and I’m going to go through a shortened menu with you as it appears you are a slow citizen who is hard of hearing. If you wish to continue, say, yes.”
“Yeeeees,” in a moaning tone.
“I don’t like your tone and because of that, I am disconnecting.”
I’m mute at this point and cannot for the life of me believe this is actually happening but finally manage a desperate, “Nooooo!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. I’m afraid your muteness followed by your obnoxious ‘noooo’ has caused a tuck and roll retreat so good day.” And she hangs up on me.
Now, yes, this is a bit exaggerated but my frustration level after all the yes’ and no’s and transfers, mirrored the rediculousness I have mentioned above. I wasted 30 good minutes on this ridiculous charade and I said things out loud to no one in my home after I got hung up on.
So, I ended up driving down to the Post Office a bit ago and as I handed the unending string of tracking numbers to the girl, she typed them in, got the most peculiar look on her face, turns to me and says, “Um, could you hang on a minute please?” Sure.
She’s gone for about 3-4 minutes and I’m getting irked. She comes back and says this to me, “Um, your package is not here. In fact, it is no where as it has not been scanned into our system. I see that it was delayed but it has to be somewhere so I need your name and phone number so my manager can do some investigating in another couple of months as the postal service is slow as you know and doesn’t answer phones, I’m not even sure half the people here know how to use one, actually. My manager is over-worked hence the months out until you find out about where you package is, or isn’t for that matter. Thanks for stopping by and wasting your time yet again with us. I’m not quite sure how we still have jobs as we fail in so many areas of customer satisfaction. Good day.”
Stunned, mute, and a little light-headed I stagger out of the madness that is the Post Office into the sunlight, and spot another poor soul taking their sanity into their own hands and I can’t help but say, “Be careful in there, for they know not what they do.”