The saga of the package that almost was

It started innocently enough: a pair of shoes ordered online, the kind that promise to make you look taller, faster, and less like someone who eats peanut butter straight from the jar. The website said delivery by Thursday, and I felt a surge of modern joy—a triumph over the limitations of the past when “shipping” involved a horse and a prayer. But little did I know, this package was about to send me on an emotional journey rivaling a Nicholas Sparks novel.

The Updates Begin

At first, the texts are reassuring:

• “Your package has shipped from our San Diego facility. We’ll keep you updated every step of the way!”
  How nice, I think. Like a life coach for my package.

Hours later:

• “Your package has reached the Ontario Distribution Center!”
  What an adventure! San Diego to Ontario in a day—it’s living the dream of every retired RV owner.

Then the updates start to multiply.

• “Your package is leaving Ontario and headed to the Downtown Sorting Facility.”
• “Your package has arrived at the Downtown Sorting Facility but now must be inspected by Todd.”
• “Todd has taken a lunch break but will resume inspecting your package after his tuna melt.”

By now, I feel like I’ve joined a corporate supply chain tour. Why does Todd matter? Who let him eat tuna in the sorting facility?

The Package Goes Rogue

Midday Thursday, things get weird.

• “Your package is out for delivery!”
  The excitement is palpable. I imagine the shoes sitting in the back of a truck, vibrating with anticipation, eager to fulfill their destiny.

Two hours later:

• “Your package is delayed due to unforeseen circumstances.”
  Unforeseen? Like what? Did the driver’s GPS lead him to an underground lair of mole people? Did my shoes unionize and demand hazard pay?

Then comes the truly surreal update:

• “The driver is trying on your shoes to ensure quality. He has taken them for a walk around the mall.”
  This is followed shortly by:
• “The driver has decided to break for Orange Julius. Your package is safe but needs a moment to reflect.”

The Distribution Center Carousel

Thursday evening:

• “Your package is en route to the Westside Hub for overnight safekeeping.”
  Safekeeping? It’s a pair of shoes, not the Ark of the Covenant. But fine.

At 8 p.m.:

• “Your package will now stay at the Downtown Sorting Facility overnight due to operational constraints.”
  I picture my shoes pressed against a glass window, staring wistfully at my house in the distance. They thought they’d made it, only to be benched like a rookie NFL player who dropped a pass during warm-ups.

The Important Text That Wasn’t

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for an urgent update about my cousin, currently detained in Costa Rica for allegedly selling hats to spider monkeys without the proper permits. My phone buzzes. Finally! News about my cuz!

Nope. It’s the delivery company again:

• “Despite heavy rain in your area, your package is crossing the 6th Street Bridge. Traffic is slow but steady. Stay tuned for more updates!”
  Sure, rain might delay my shoes, but does it delay the endless texts? Of course not. My phone now pings so often I wonder if it’s plotting to unionize with Todd.

Friday Morning, the Reckoning

At 7 a.m. Friday, a new text arrives:

• “Good morning! Your package is out for delivery… again! For real this time. Probably.”
  I am cautiously optimistic. The map shows the truck circling my neighborhood like a shark that has tasted blood.

At 10 a.m.:

• “Your package is on your street. Prepare yourself.”
  I rush to the window, peering out like a kid waiting for Santa. I even see the truck slow down in front of my house.

Then comes the final dagger to my soul:

• “Due to operational delays, your package will arrive Monday.”

The Aftermath

I sit on my porch, barefoot and broken. Somewhere in Costa Rica, my cousin languishes in jail, probably trying to bribe guards with spider monkey hats. Somewhere in the city, my shoes rest in yet another facility, contemplating their existence and mine.

I take a deep breath as my phone buzzes once more. I don’t even need to look. I already know:

• “Your package is being inspected by Todd. Todd has had a revelation about life and is considering a career change.”

And with that, I delete the app. Let the shoes find their own way home.