Purolator attempted to deliver a package to me the other day. I use the terms "attempt" and "deliver" very loosely because they did neither. No one buzzed my front door nor made any attempt to deliver it to me personally, which makes
this whole idea of door to door delivery a complete misnomer. And apparently Purolator has a new policy: They no longer leave the delivery notice tag on
an apartment building. I'm not sure why; they blow away? People
rip them off? Paranoid customers think that some stranger can claim
their stuff? First thing they should do is give people the option to accept delivery in the first place. Ring the bloody buzzer! That's what it's for.
So, I got a call from what they like to call the local depot to tell me where to pick up my package. Correct me if I'm wrong, but why should I have to embark on some sort of trek to retrieve an item being "delivered" to me. It means road trip for me. But not the fun kind in a
convertible with the top down, hanging with my peeps, wind blowing in
our hair. It means figuring how to get to this place by transit, and I know a
bus has to be involved because the address is out in no man's land somewhere
on Market Crossing which I can't even find on a map. The message left informs me I have 5 business days to come and get the item before it is dispatched to the central depot. God only knows where that is. Or, I do have the option of actually having it delivered to my door, but will be sometime between the hours of 9-5 on some future appointed day thus making the assumption that everyone has the luxury of having their days free, which has always peeved me. Not that I get a lot of packages delivered, but when I do it is always a hassle. And, as it just so happens I do currently have my days free, but what I lack is the desire to linger in my apartment for an entire day to wait for this special delivery, and if memory serves the last time I waited all day for Purolator the driver never did show up.
The bus lets me off at my stop which has been stabbed in the ground like an afterthought. It turns out Market Crossing is just a charitable way of saying two
streets intersect and there are stores there. The handful of riders that get off with me at the same stop all we all dodge traffic to get across the street to the oases of shops on the other side. No pesky crosswalks here. There's an enticing array of stores at this Market Crossing, but not enough to seduce me down here on a regular basis. I was relieved to find a mcdonald's so I could kill time with a cheap coffee before the next bus came by to get me back home again. The package is worth the trip, a replacement coat from Columbia, something I've been working on for almost 4 months now.