Cavalcade of Frustration! and Fuzzy Cell Phone Shots!

I gave Chippy her breakfast and sent her out to hopefully take a dump on the neighbor's yard to the left. Not the good neighbor to the right, but hopefully the bad neighbor to the left.

I'm not sure if Chippy knows right from left though.

That situation with the Barnes & Nobull Color Nook has got me on edge. I've got $275 tied up in that thing and at this point, it would seem only the Stewart St. post office (which does not publish a contact number) knows where it is.

You see, the problem is - Mrs. Flusher checked out at 3:00am this morning. And the package is nowhere to be seen. Certainly she doesn't have it. And I'm not gonna get it.

I called the post office's automated 800 service.

"Hello! Thank you for calling the US Postal Service automated service. You can say 'ok' to continue."

"OK."

"Thank you. To track a package, say track a package. To ask about postal rates and delivery - "

"Track a package."

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that."

"TRACK A PACKAGE."

"You said - Track a Package. Is that right?"

"YES!"

"I'm sorry - I didn't get that. To track a package, say track a package. To ask about postal rates and delivery -"

"TRACK A FUCKING PACKAGE!!!!!!!!!!""I'm sorry - I didn't get that. To track a package, say track a package. To ask about postal rates and delivery -"

"Track. A. Package.""You said - Track a Package. Is that right?"

"YES!"

"Okay. I can help you."

I let out a big sigh of relief and let the stupid automaton drone on.

"Do you have a package tracking number?"

"Why yes, I do."

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that. Do you have a package tracking number?"

"OK"

"Please recite the package tracking number."

The tracking number has like 300 digits. Its absolutely insane.

"1 9 2 9 4 1 1 0 39 38 0 204 0 69 69 69 69 8 10 411 911 86 666"

"Did you say '1 9 2 9 4 1 1 0 39 38 0 204 0 69 69 69 69 8 10 411 911 86 666. You can say 'OK' or 'No'.'"

By God I did!!!!

"OK!"

"The package has been issued for delivery. Would you like to track another package?"

"Where is it?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that."

"WHERE. THE. FUCK. IS. IT????"

"I'm sorry. I didn't get that."

"TAKE A LONG HARD SUCK ON IT SISTER!!!!"

"I'm sorry you are having trouble..."

A long pause and then a very wistful "Goodbye..." followed by a disconnect.

So I cut to the chase and called the Smug Nugget. I started with the Desk. Explained my story. Next, the Business Center. Explained my story. Next, the bell desk, which is also shipping.

There, I spoke to Roger, with the head of shipping and freight for the Golden Nugget. I explained my story. Gave him Mrs. Flusher's name. Whimpered a little bit.

"Yes, sir I have it right here."

My jaw hit the kitchen table making a sound like a bowling ball dropping onto a bank's terrazo floor. For a moment I wondered how the sound I'd heard when my jaw fell triggered such a cloying, ridiculous simile. Then I pressed on.

"You have it? FANTASTIC!!!" My Color Nook was Found!!! But what to do with it?

I'd had it with this charade. I had to face it - I was never going to get my beautiful new Color Nook.

"Send it back, ok?"

He said he could do that.

The day wore on and I pondered how I would know it was sent back. I got on the phone to Barnes and Nobull and spent 2 hours - TWO FULL HOURS - getting shuffled between Ordering, the Digital Department, Customer Service, and Lube, Oil & Filter.

A couple of times the line went dead just as I was getting somewhere.

I explained my story about 10 times. And I had them on the ropes - they were going to issue a refund based on "Buyer's Remorse". HA!

At one point, these poindexters asked me for the serial number of the device. I think I did cry a little bit at that point.

Then they started talking shipping label and RMA number. Another few on-hold sessions with their Fluffer-specialty humpy humpy porno on-hold music. And then the volume of the call just faded away to nothing.

The rep and I were screaming at each other. Nobody could get a message across. I finally hung up in frustration.

Then panic set over me.

I had to get to Roger before his day ended. It was quarter to eight eastern time. I called his number and prayed. No answer. I called again. No answer. Left a message and my phone number.

Like he'd call me back. Right.

He called me back!!!

"Roger - do you by any chance... still have that package?"

"Yes sir, I do. It's right here in my office."

"Roger, hang on to it. Don't return it. They need an RMA number and they need to send me a label. If I forward the label to you can you take care of re-addressing the package?"

He could.

Now I finally knew what to do. Plan D.

And just because you have read this far, here are some gratuitous obligatory fuzzy cellphone shots of the Quad Queen's exploits.











The MotherFlusher.



A couple of Pick'em Stinker-hands.