In our residence, the postal workers often leave packages under the gate if they can’t reach the owner by phone. That’s how one of the packages ended up in the yard. It sat outside for a week, then spent another two weeks in the hallway I use to get to the garage. The package had already been partially opened, and it was clear that no one understood what was inside. It was just some box with no description of its contents, but it seemed to claim some sort of “elite” status. So, the package continued to sit there.
Well, then I decided that something needed to be done, and if not me, then the cat. I took the package and looked at the name. I couldn’t find that name on the mailboxes, and here people are required to put their names on the mailboxes and doorbells, so I searched for the name on LinkedIn. It’s a small country; almost everyone is on LinkedIn. I wrote to her, saying that I had her package. I told her to let me know when she wanted to pick it up. A day, two, a week… and no response.
Who is the supplier? Ah, some company called “hippie swings.” On their website – yes, exactly, hippie swings. Children’s swings and hanging beds made from wooden sticks and colorful fabric. I’ll write to the supplier then. I’ll reach out on WhatsApp, describe the problem, and say that if they send me a label, I’ll return it without any issues. They said okay, thanks for your concern, and then went silent. The lady blocked me on LinkedIn. Well, of course! An unknown bald guy with an unshaven face in his profile picture and a last name that needs to be pronounced with a heavy Eastern European accent is reaching out to you, calling you neighbor and claiming he has something for you. Should you react? No, of course not! Better to block him right away, just in case something leaks.
Hmm, I think to myself, wiping the dust off the fancy box a week later. To assess how valuable the contents are and whether they deserve my efforts, as well as in a shameless hope to productively exercise my right to abandon, I carefully open the box and see a bunch of junk inside. Some three sticks that connect together with wooden balls that have holes in them. At the end of one of the sticks, there are two rotating washers mounted on a single axis, with velvet inside. I didn’t spend much time playing “What-Where-When” and, not finding a similar item on the manufacturer’s website, handed the sticks over to Frida. First one, then, two weeks later, the second.
Frida had chewed on them thoroughly, and then my former neighbor messaged me on WhatsApp. You might understand now that if I mentioned him in the story, it somehow relates to him, but back then, I didn’t even get it.
Fa-fa, la-la, and here’s a picture of our dog, and we had a son – here’s a picture, and here’s our dog, and here she is with the neighbor’s dog… Oh right, by the way, there was supposed to be a package for Manon, I’ll go pick it up. Okay, I say, come on over. If there’s a package, I’ll grab it. Manon, as I understand it, is his wife-girlfriend-partner-mother of his son. A couple of days later, she messages me saying she’s coming to get the package. I say, hold on, let me check. I ran to the gate – nothing there. I say there’s nothing. How can there be nothing? You wrote to Manon on LinkedIn, this should have arrived, and she shows me a screenshot of the item – those very three sticks.
I replied to him that the little dog has almost finished eating. The third stick with the treats is still intact, while the other two are practically chewed up. Your friend blocked me for no apparent reason, and the supplier hasn’t bothered to respond—here are the screenshots. By the way, what are those sticks for? The neighbor didn’t reply, saying he would find out everything and get back to me with a report. He hasn’t returned yet.
But from the screenshot, I realized that this product was sold on a marketplace. I went to that marketplace, typed the supplier’s name into the search bar, and voilà, I found that these three sticks cost 40 (forty, Carl) euros, and it’s just a bracket for attaching their branded carousel toy with figures, also wooden, above the head of a child lying in a crib. And the two washers are like a “safety clamp” for attaching to the crib’s edge, not wheels, as I had thought.
I might be out of context, but these are exactly the kind of people who readily buy three sticks for 40 euros with delivery to the wrong address from a seller who knows that the cost of the sticks is less than the price of shipping them back. Then, fearing that everyone around them is a scammer, they block everyone indiscriminately on social media without trying to understand the situation.