Wednesday, October 29, 2003
what does you soul look like?
I just spent a ridiculous amount of time on my other blog (my dream journal), putting up a post on my wacky dream last night. If you haven't been to my other page, go have a peek: Technicolour Dreams

Anyway, let's talk about shipping stuff overseas. This has become a common place thing with me, since it seems my friends all move away over time (do I smell??). First it was a lot of shipping overseas to Israel; I dare not even share with you folks how much I blew on that. Now it's shipping over to England. On Monday I took a somewhat large box into the post office to send to my friend Gnat. I was aware that the size of the box would cost me a little extra, but due to the nature of the contents, it was actually quite light. The nice lady put my box on the scale, weighed it, measured the dimensions of the box, and did some calculations on the computer. I was told that it would be $93 by air, $30 or so by ground (but it would take 6-8 weeks). To say that my jaw dropped would be an extreme understatement. I have done plenty of overseas shipping, I usually have a pretty good idea how much it will cost. Not this time. After picking my jaw up off the counter I think I muttered some incredulous comment like "You have to be shitting me!". I'm sure she appreciated that. Dumbfounded, I stared at her for a moment, and she offered me a word of advice; cut the box open and take out one item. The weight was just 0.638 kg over the weight limit for the lower price range (that would be just over one pound for my American readers). She said it would then only cost me $35 to send it by air instead of $93. Now I was really stunned. "You mean to tell me that that little tiny amount of weight makes a difference of nearly SIXTY friggin' dollars?!!". She just patiently nodded. I continued to stand there like an idiot, stunned by this bit of lunacy. No wonder postal workers go crazy and shoot up the place, this was insanity at it's best. Finally getting over the feeling of getting socked in the stomach I said "fine...well...I guess that's what I'll do....".
Now I am just furious that I'm going to have to choose something to take out; I was quite excited about all the items in there (all toys for my friend's son). "Do you have a knife or something I can cut it open with?" I ask innocently. "Ha! A knife!" snickers another postal worker in the background. Wtf? Am I standing in an airport proposing to take a box cutter on the plane?? I mean I'm angry, but I'm not gonna go brandishing a knife in the postal office demanding a lower rate, for the love of God. The nice lady gave me a pair of kiddie scissors, and I hacked the box open. At this point I am in the depths of despair about having to take something out. I pull one item out and toss it on the scale. Not enough. "Crap", I mutter. I put it back in and pull out the coolest (and heaviest) toy in there; it is almost the perfect amount, just slightly more than necessary. "Perfect" says the lady. "Yeah" I mutter. Perfect in that not-at-all perfect way. She tapes it back up for me (not nearly as well as the wonderful job I did, but I'm hardly in a position to be picky at this point, am I?) and I pay her the $35 + tax. I thank her for all her help and I walk out of the post office with a toy under my arm that's just gonna have to go in the next package.
*pout* I was NOT a happy camper.

And with that I really must go to work. Have a good day everyone!