Sunday, May 18, 2014

A Love/Hate Letter to eBay




 Dear eBay,

I think you've known for some time that I'd love nothing more than to drop you like the very bad habit you are. But we both know the likelihood of that happening is akin to witnessing a snowstorm in the dog days of July...


I love that you are open 24/7.

I hate that you are open 24/7.

I love that you are linked to my PayPal account, which is linked to my credit card.

I hate love that you are linked to my PayPal account, which is linked to my credit card.

I love that if I were to go on a fervent search for a 100% cashmere sweater that is the perfect mixture of cobalt blue and turquoise -- and trust me, I have embarked on this search a thousand times over -- that I will find a different sweater that meets all of my qualifications every single time.

I hate that if I were to go on a fervent search for a 100% cashmere sweater that is the perfect mixture of cobalt blue and turquoise that I will find a different sweater that meets all of my qualifications every single time.

I love how you give me the impression that nothing is beyond my reach.

I hate how you give me the impression that nothing is beyond my reach.

Oh, eBay. I'm hopeless with you, yet miserable without you.

What am I going to do?


Signed,


Your bitch


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Friday, April 25, 2014

I love you USPS, but you are working my last nerve...

So here's what happened.

I found yet another beautiful cashmere sweater on eBay, this one in the hue of a delicious cobalt blue, for only $14.99. I bought it, of course, without thinking twice -- predictably like a dutiful shopping addict would. Nothing new here. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And I'll tell you something else that's becoming commonplace around here: antics/funny business from substitute mail carriers who stand in for our regular, Michele, who has been taking off a lot of days recently. Michele, as I have mentioned before, is practically kin around here, what with how much I shop online. (I mean, this woman knows where the bodies are buried. If DH, say, ever wanted to corner her and inquire about just how many items are delivered to this house with an eBay shipping label, I would basically be shit out of luck if Michele spilled the beans. But I don't think she would do that, as Michele is seriously cool people, but I digress...)

So I buy this sweater and several days go by and still no sweater. It's coming from Utah, and should be here by now. So last night I look up the package via the tracking number the seller provided. He was supposed to ship this sweater via United States Postal Service Economy shipping.

Guess what I discover? Based on the USPS web site, it says that notice was left that the mail carrier attempted to deliver the package because -- and here's the real kicker here: No one was present to sign for the package.

WTF?

First of all, I was home when the web site stated that an attempt to deliver was made. We were all home. So I have no idea where a notice slip was left, but it sure as hell wasn't at our home.

Secondly, who in the hell ships a frickin' $14 sweater and calls for the recipient to sign for it????

Blows my mind.

Now, I can neither confirm or deny whether Michele was working that day, but this kind of shoddy work was probably done by one of her substitutes, one of whom chronically delivers our next door neighbor's mail to us. I, because I am a decent human being, will always run their mail back over. But my neighbors are freakish assholes, and I'm not so sure they would return the favor. My hunch is that my attempt to deliver slip was mistakenly dropped off at their place, and is now being used as kitty litter for their creepy black cat.

Anyhow, I was able to schedule a re-delivery of the sweater for tomorrow, so let's see what happens then.

Until then, I'll sit here, pissed, and hoping that our forthcoming mail won't end up at the Pool Supply Store around the block or something.

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Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Don't get high on your own supply.*

*DISCLAIMER
No drugs of any kind were consumed for the purpose of penning this post -- or consumed period, for that matter. I simply thought "Don't get high on your own supply" made for a far more attention-grabbing title, as opposed to "I sold a shit-load of items on eBay, and then turned right around and blew all of my earnings on even more shit I didn't need."
 
...Which is precisely what I did.
 
After carving hours out of my schedule -- hours I didn't really have in the first place, writing listing descriptions, taking photos, and trying to figure out what the starting bid should be for all the items I was selling, I had earned a measly 60-something dollars when it was all said and done.
 
Sixty. Fucking. Dollars. 
 
And even then, a small portion of that ended up being chipped away at because I under-estimated how much it would cost to ship every freakin' item I sold.
 
But, wait, it gets worse. (And as you know by now, it always gets worse.):
 
I turned right around and spent all of the money before it had so much of even a ghost of a chance to luxuriate in my PayPal account for a day or so.
 
I spent it on frivolous shit. Useless shit. Shit I didn't need.
 
Like this sweater:

And this one:

And this Christmas dress for DD (even though next Christmas is light-years away, and I am bound to see something else that I'll want even more than this one before then):

And these granola bars:

Who the fuck buys granola bars on eBay?
 
Me. That's who.
 
I'm pathetic. 

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Saturday, April 5, 2014

On sadness and gratitude.



I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I'm feeling -- and I don't mean to be overly dramatic here...forlorn. Like, not I-can't-get-out-of-bed forlorn, or you-had-better-keep-the-shades-drawn forlorn. No. This breed of forlorn comes from not living in the present. This breed of forlorn comes from thinking about the past. This breed of forlorn comes when you realize that your baby is not a newborn anymore, and is, as a matter of fact, approaching the tale end of the infant stage.

Why does this sadden me?

Because I know that this is the end of the road for me. This uterus is closed for business.

Sure, I won't miss the middle-of-the-night feedings, or having to wear elastic-waist pants for months after my delivery, or how my hair sheds like a motherfucker in the three months following giving birth.

But all those hassles aside, there is nothing like the fuzzy, beautiful, and delightful process that is pregnancy -- and, of course -- giving birth. It can give you, by all accounts, an unrivaled high, particularly when you have the love and support that I did during both pregnancies. Then, add to the mix a shiny new, cooing baby, and all of it is just enough to make you drunk with adoration and satisfaction.

DD just turned 6 months, and for some reason, I've found myself reflecting a lot recently on her delivery, which was awesome. (It seems so long ago, although it really wasn't, as DH reminds me.) And in going down Memory Lane, I remembered that I hadn't posted this eBay purchase to this blog: some 40-odd bars of Lindt chocolate bars, which I purchased from a candy wholesaler as gift for the maternity floor staff at my hospital.

Those nurses rocked. They made my entire pregnancy feel like I was going to a Girls' Night Out every time I visited the hospital (for twice-weekly stress tests), and I was so happy to get to know each of them.

It is my hope that they enjoyed this chocolate as much as I appreciated them.


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Tuesday, March 18, 2014

But, wait. There's more.



So in my last post, I regaled you on the utter and complete weirdness that transpired over the course of my latest transaction.

Well, the eBay Gods have smiled upon me once again.

I'm actually being facetious, because a more accurate characterization of my most recent eBay transaction is that the eBay Gods puked on me once again...

I found the above gem of a dress -- a NWT A-line Isaac Mizrahi for Target shift dress -- one morning before I had even changed DD's overnight diaper. (Yes, some days the eBay trolling begins waaaay before the crack of dawn.) The dress, in my size, was under 20 bucks with frees shipping. I bought it immediately.

Done.

Well, days -- no, almost two weeks -- transpire and no dress.

I look up the tracking number the seller provided and guess what?

The dress had been delivered to some place in Pennsylvania a week ago.

I don't live in Pennsylvania.

So I e-mail the seller to ask what's up. She, thankfully, replies immediately with an apology stating that she mistakenly mixed up her orders: My dress was sent to her other buyer...and the other buyer's item was en route to me.

I know mistakes happen, but this shit nearly made me blow my top. I had a myriad of questions: Was the other buyer even going to contact the seller to inform her that she had received THE WRONG FUCKING ITEM!? Probably -- no, obviously -- not. The freak may have worn my size and was just thinking she had nabbed a freebie. The bitch.

But, wait. There's more.

The seller e-mails me again, says that she will refund my total purchase price and kindly requests that I mail the item (that is on its way to me) to the correct buyer...and she will "see if the other buyer will agree to doing the same."

I promptly told her hell-to-the-no. That did it. I blew.

Do you know what I got next? Yet another e-mail from the seller stating that this is not a big deal, that my getting my dress late pales in comparison to having your husband run off with his mistress and leaving you with four kids.

Okay, she wins.

But, dammit, I still wanted my dress. The seller did some further digging, and, come to find, she didn't mix up the orders. She only mixed up the tracking labels. My dress was still en route to me. Apparently, snow in Denver was to blame for the delay.

The dress came two days later, and all was forgiven.

Well, not all. I'm sure the seller still harbors pure hatred for her asshole husband and would love nothing more than smack him in the head (or balls) as hard as she possibly can with a wrought iron frying pan.



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