Waiting for my XDA car sharger, still
Discussion
Dear Joe,
It’s becoming a sad, sad tale. I ordered my XDA car charger from your esteemed establishment well over a month ago now. The reason I ordered it from your company was because of the guaranteed delivery – within 48 hours.
48 hours came and went. As did 96. However, I waited a full 144 hours (Monday 27th of June) before I plucked up the courage to query the delivery of said item. At the time you promised that it would be delivered within 48 hours (again). I emailed you 168 hours later (July 4th) to inform you that I was still waiting. You expressed a combination of surprise and embarrassment, and apologised – explaining that your purchaser was on holiday, but was due back in two days. Since that day, 576 hours ago, I spend most days just staring out of my study window, in a kind of ‘trance like hope’. Occasionally I see the shape of human figure wander towards my house, but as they walk by my heart sinks. Sometimes I lie in bed and just “wonder”, where could it be? In fact, the other day I thought maybe I didn’t actually order it – perhaps it’s all, in fact, a cruel dream? However, when I turn on my computer each morning your emails are always there, just staring at me and smirking - like a skilled emotional torturer. Sometimes I hear voices coming from them - laughter mainly. My wife thinks I’m mad, but she’s wrong – they really do make tormenting noises.
Once a day the postman arrives, but never with a promising jiffy bag. He just looks at me and shakes his head. Today, however, was different. Today he had a jiffy bag. My eyes become widened. I opened it like a child on Christmas morning, only to discover it’s some Playmobile items my wife ordered 48 hours earlier. Following this disappointment I opened my Master Card statement and guess what was on the top? The £20 debit from your company. Oddly enough, the credit card bill started laughing at me, rather like the emails do but with a deeper, more sinister, chortle.
Finally, the purpose of this email is to ask whether there might be the slightest chance of receiving my charger before the end of my financial year (April 2006), because it’s a business expense and it gets complicated if I’ve parted with money but don’t have any assets in exchange. Also, my wife thinks that when the item arrives, the emails can be deleted and the voices will probably stop. Personally, I’m not so sure.
Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you within the next 48 hours.
Kind regards
It’s becoming a sad, sad tale. I ordered my XDA car charger from your esteemed establishment well over a month ago now. The reason I ordered it from your company was because of the guaranteed delivery – within 48 hours.
48 hours came and went. As did 96. However, I waited a full 144 hours (Monday 27th of June) before I plucked up the courage to query the delivery of said item. At the time you promised that it would be delivered within 48 hours (again). I emailed you 168 hours later (July 4th) to inform you that I was still waiting. You expressed a combination of surprise and embarrassment, and apologised – explaining that your purchaser was on holiday, but was due back in two days. Since that day, 576 hours ago, I spend most days just staring out of my study window, in a kind of ‘trance like hope’. Occasionally I see the shape of human figure wander towards my house, but as they walk by my heart sinks. Sometimes I lie in bed and just “wonder”, where could it be? In fact, the other day I thought maybe I didn’t actually order it – perhaps it’s all, in fact, a cruel dream? However, when I turn on my computer each morning your emails are always there, just staring at me and smirking - like a skilled emotional torturer. Sometimes I hear voices coming from them - laughter mainly. My wife thinks I’m mad, but she’s wrong – they really do make tormenting noises.
Once a day the postman arrives, but never with a promising jiffy bag. He just looks at me and shakes his head. Today, however, was different. Today he had a jiffy bag. My eyes become widened. I opened it like a child on Christmas morning, only to discover it’s some Playmobile items my wife ordered 48 hours earlier. Following this disappointment I opened my Master Card statement and guess what was on the top? The £20 debit from your company. Oddly enough, the credit card bill started laughing at me, rather like the emails do but with a deeper, more sinister, chortle.
Finally, the purpose of this email is to ask whether there might be the slightest chance of receiving my charger before the end of my financial year (April 2006), because it’s a business expense and it gets complicated if I’ve parted with money but don’t have any assets in exchange. Also, my wife thinks that when the item arrives, the emails can be deleted and the voices will probably stop. Personally, I’m not so sure.
Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you within the next 48 hours.
Kind regards
Dear Jo,
Well you were as good as your word - the item arrived today! Thank you.
It rather feels like I've been on death-row and have been given a last minute reprieve, having been strapped down to the chair by two burly gentlemen. The voices, I think, have finally stopped. I shared a glass of champagne with my ever-loyal postman this morning, who congratulated me profusely. I think I saw a tear in his eye, in fact. Certainly, our friendship will last a lifetime. The birds seem chirpier today. The grass is most certainly a hue or two greener. Even the burble of my TVR sounded more menacing and provocative than normal. Which is always a good thing, I'm sure you'll agree. The problem now is I don't have the courage to see if the charger works. But that doesn't matter. You see, I don't intend to ever use it. That was simply the original plan from the "pre-order days". Instead, during the "post order days" my intentions changed. I now plan to have it mounted on a marble plinth with the etched words "even where insanity reigns, hope will prevail".
So thank you,
Regards,
Well you were as good as your word - the item arrived today! Thank you.
It rather feels like I've been on death-row and have been given a last minute reprieve, having been strapped down to the chair by two burly gentlemen. The voices, I think, have finally stopped. I shared a glass of champagne with my ever-loyal postman this morning, who congratulated me profusely. I think I saw a tear in his eye, in fact. Certainly, our friendship will last a lifetime. The birds seem chirpier today. The grass is most certainly a hue or two greener. Even the burble of my TVR sounded more menacing and provocative than normal. Which is always a good thing, I'm sure you'll agree. The problem now is I don't have the courage to see if the charger works. But that doesn't matter. You see, I don't intend to ever use it. That was simply the original plan from the "pre-order days". Instead, during the "post order days" my intentions changed. I now plan to have it mounted on a marble plinth with the etched words "even where insanity reigns, hope will prevail".
So thank you,
Regards,
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