Letters To No One: FedEx

Dear FedEx,

March 30th was a beautiful and warm Spring day. I mailed out some drafts of my book and some of the items I sold on eBay. Everything went out via USPS, except for the ol’ Nintendo, which got FedEx Ground treatment.

As I rolled up to the shipping facility of Rt. 10 I was listening to an album that paralleled such a beautiful day–Codeine’s Barely Real EP (that’s what we Internet writers call sarcasm). I walked inside with a large bundle in my arms and the FedEx ground pick-up record book they give to people with FedEx accounts. There was a large African American woman behind the desk, she was helping an older Asian gentleman, a middle-aged white woman and a young African American all at once. I placed my package down on a chair and filled out the requisite forms. The employee yelled continually at the young African man because he was doing everything wrong. She was annoyingly loud and obnoxious as she snapped papers out of the hands of the Asian man and white woman. Out of nowhere, she looked over at me and said, “I’ll get to you, stay cool.” Was I making a face? I couldn’t have been–I was buried in this book trying to legibly print the recipients address.

Finally she says, “Put the package on the scale.” I comply, and she takes the book from my hand. “Do you want the black or the purple copy?” She asks.

“Which do you normally take?” I ask, unsure about her question.

“Whichever one you want, sir.”

I glance at the book and notice it’s mostly black pages. “Take the purple one,” I say.

“You’re done.” She replies, as she tears the page out.

“You’ll label it an-”

“You’re done, sir. Bye.”

From the car I call my father. I ask if it’s normal that they not want a separate shipping label for the package, because I’m reusing an old UPS box that I got in the mail a few months ago. He says no, they put it through a bunch of machines that will X out any other markings on the package.

Today is April 5th. As any eBay seller worth his salt would, I’m checking up on the tracking number to make sure the Nintendo is going to arrive on time. I see that it’s “ON TRUCK FOR DELIVERY” and I’m very excited at the prospect of the transaction being completed. Then I notice that the location for this “delivery” is in Henderson, Nevada–not Alberta, Canada.

“Henderson…Why do I know Henderson…” I’m thinking.

Of course, Henderson is the place I had my turntable shipped from, via UPS, several months ago. The fucking retards at FedEx shipped my package using a UPS code and label thousands of miles in the wrong direction when they had the correct address sitting in front of them the whole time. I’m so livid right now I want to go down to their office and go postal on the stupid, obnoxious bitch that ruined my Nintendo sale, pardon my pun!

If FedEx thinks they’re going to get out of this without so much as a series of e-mails, phone calls and “blog” exposes, they’re sadly mistaken. Sure, one man can’t bring down a company, but he sure can use the words “fucking retard” hundreds of times to slander their shitty business.

What would David Yow do?

Sincerely, Evan LeVine