I am expecting a delivery, and even though I know I should be patient I can’t help but fume. The stork that was supposed to drop off my baby left another “Sorry we missed you!” slip on my front door, and now I have to stay home again tomorrow to wait for it!
This happens truly every time the stork tries to deliver a baby to my Brooklyn brownstone. For instance, my last child, Julia, the light of my life, was almost sent back to the warehouse because there were so many failed drop-off attempts. I remember the third time the stork came, I left a note on my door with unmistakably clear instructions. I provided my work and cell numbers. I even drew a picture of the stork using the building intercom, in case he couldn’t read. But guess what? The stork ignored all of that. At 5:18 P.M., despite having sat around waiting the whole day, I get this text message:
Are you kidding me? I was waiting! I could have signed! Look, I know it’s not easy being the lone bird responsible for delivering all of the world’s babies wrapped in little cloth bundles, but, my God, is he not accountable to anyone? The stork has my newborn and yesterday he apparently flew by my building but “could not find a secure location” to deposit it. Instead, the stork left a message to “go online to www.UnitedStorkService.com/redelivery to request a redelivery.” Of course, after an hour of dealing with their excruciatingly clunky home page I tried calling the support line, and it was the worst experience of my life. You wait for hours on hold, and then the employee that finally answers you is totally unhelpful:
“Hi! I was supposed to get a baby today but it didn’t come.”
“Says here there was an attempted delivery at 2:04 P.M.”
“What?! I was home at 2:04 P.M.! Is he still around? Can I catch him?”
“Unfortunately, Sir, because the stork is a large bird, he has a giant wingspan, and is already in another state.”
Freaking typical.
You may think I’m exaggerating, but seriously. Take a look at this tracking information and tell me it’s not confusing:
I know what you’re going to say: “Why don’t you just have your child delivered to your office, or to a friend’s place?” But it’s the principle of the thing! My wife wants a home birth (we don’t want to lug the baby on the subway), and honestly we shouldn’t have to compromise on that if we paid for expedited shipping.
At the end of the day, I don’t even know why I’m writing this customer-support e-mail since the stork is never going to read it. But I want you all to know—one more botched attempt and I’m switching to Amazon. I hate myself for saying it, but Jeff Bezos would fly my baby here, same-day, with a ton of diaper padding.
Don’t make me cancel my order, stork. Just buzz Apartment 3 and deliver my damn baby!
