Last night, I made my daily sojourn to the front porch to check for packages. Ooh, goodie! A package leaned up against our door! What could it be? The clothes I ordered? The Christmas gift for my sister?

Funny, though. I didn’t remember ordering anything that would fit in a long rectangular box.

Then I checked the address. I knew to do this because we’ve received misdirected packages from UPS before (one of them full of time-sensitive medical supplies!). Of course, the package belongs to the owners of a house a few down from ours. Sure, the street is the same. But the NAME on the package? The HOUSE NUMBER?

Apparently, UPS thinks we are the only online shoppers in the entire town of Eutaw.

I can’t help feeling discriminated against. Maybe UPS thinks Eutaw is full of people who don’t know a computer keyboard from a jar of pickled pig’s feet. Maybe they think we are all satisfied with the selection at the town’s three dollar stores.

I imagine the UPS guy is bitter about having to drive all the way to our little town to deliver one package. I imagine that in his annoyance, he barely glances at the address before he says, “Ugh, that Eutaw chick again,” and casts the package aside. Maybe he even realizes the mistake as he’s carrying the package up our sidewalk but thinks, “Eh, I drove all the way to this hick town. They can take it three more houses down.”

It’s true that dropping the package off at the proper porch on the way to work isn’t a huge inconvenience for me. But darnit, why do they have to get my hopes up that way?

posted by K | filed under Eutaw, Grumpy Bear | 5 Comments


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