The time my house stopped existing

So one time, FedEx decided my house didn’t exist. Now, I will preface this by saying this was a while ago, and I don’t hold FedEx as the worst carrier, or want to trash them, or anyone else. I’m just telling a story here. So take it as it is, a funny story.

A package had made its way across the country, and had been marked as “Out for delivery.” Hooray. I wanted that package.

Nothing arrived.

I checked the status that night and it said there was a delivery exception. Digging into the website I saw that the exception was “Residence does not exist” which I didn’t even know was a possible code they could use.

But that code meant they weren’t even going to try again. Well shit.

So I called FedEx and they weren’t really helpful, because they only have the same notes to go off of.

I explained the problem, and explained that I was currently standing in the place that did not exist according to them, and that, really I had bigger problems than a FedEx delivery if I was hallucinating an dwelling.

Weirdly they did not see the humor in it. I was nothing but calm, laughing about it even as I explained it, because let’s be honest that shit is funny. Oh well. But since they just had the same info I did they couldn’t do anything, and wanted to just brush it all off.

They also really do not want to give you the number to the local office, but I am quite stubborn when I need to be and refused to give up until I got a working local number.

Calling them got me, eventually, routed to a manager at the local office who listened to my story and apologized and said the box would go out the next day. Fine by me, no worries, mistakes happen.

The next day I saw the package marked as “Out for delivery.” Hooray. I wanted that package.

Nothing arrived.

I checked the status and, sure enough, the delivery exception was back with the same reasoning.

A quick phone call and I ended up with the same manager again. This time she sighed, deeply, and told me that at times the drivers would be running late and might mark a package as someone not being home or something as a way to not run into overtime, since they were contract workers and not union and had to get back by a certain time.

Shitty, but I can’t blossom a union into existence for them. Though they should have one.

Regardless, this time, and this was a Friday, I was told the package would arrive tomorrow. I explained that I didn’t need it that badly, and weekend delivery hadn’t been paid for and Monday was fine by me. Tomorrow, I was told. Ok. Fine.

Saturday the package was marked as slated for delivery Monday. Made sense. No worries. Stopped thinking about it.

So when, a few hours later, the doorbell rang and I heard a truck start up almost instantly (As an aside how do they drop a package and run back to the truck that fast? I mean this was obviously not tossed, it’s just impressive.) I admit to being confused.

And there, near the door, carefully tucked away, sat my box. Wow, ok, well done, I thought. And then I looked at the bottom of the box.

A full page black and white printout has been taped to it. The google maps image of my house, alongside a map of the surrounding few streets, with the address circled and “HERE” written above it.

I didn’t stop laughing for a good few minutes, picturing this woman doing this with all the anger in her just to get this one dumb box out and delivered.

Of course I called to thank her, and when I mentioned the image she just made an “mmhmm” noise and thanked me for my patience and I thanked her for getting the box to me and we hung up.

I have to imagine the driver who delivered it couldn’t have been happy, but c’mon, don’t try and tell me the place I am calling from doesn’t exist. I am pretty sure it does, and did, though.

Pretty sure.

Mostly.

Fairly.

I think.