Signed. Sealed. Delivered?!

When our heroine last left Brown, that's United Parcel Service, not the university or her husband Andre, it was late August. A pair of shoes had gone walking in the 'hood.

Luckily, the kindly folks at UPS have a policy to deal with their ineptness. Yup. No more unannounced drop-offs at our house--sort of like what you hope happens with houseguests. We officially became a signature required stop. I know you're jealous.

As far as I could tell, the only thing that drivers have to remember, now, is not to leave anything if no one's home. You know, to sign. So, I found it a bit odd Monday evening, when Andre and I returned home and found something on our stoop.

Hint: it wasn't a baby.

Now I understand, UPS, that your loss prevention tactics are a bit of a drag. Because if no one's home, you know, to sign, my casa becomes an unloading-free zone.

I get it. So why's it so hard for you?

According to the testy local representative sent my way, via my complaint to world headquarters, the driver had obtained a signature. Damn it. My bad. Andre must be teleporting again. Actually, come to think of it, shouldn't I be the one low on patience, since you're not only calling me at 7:30AM, but also working hard to dispute my story.

No matter. It's a new day. A new package on the way. Surely your men won't let me down.

Later that afternoon, Brown's environmental friendly diesel truck alerts me to their arrival. And what's this? There's not one, but two of their uniformed finest, carrying my package. Whew. Glad that group lift concept's understood, because that sucker does weigh 65 pounds and we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt.

Oh look. And they're super friendly too. I can hear them ask someone walking in front of my house if he lives here. I can assure you that he does not. But it's okay. The pedestrian knows who does: Andre. Only his car's not in the driveway. But maybe his wife's home, so how 'bout I open the gate, ring the bell, and check for you--UPS.

Um, why exactly do you have my neighbor involved?

I opened the door to find my neighbor on the stoop. The UPS men? They're almost out of view, rounding the corner behind the house with my package. No worries, their deputized crew member alerts them to the fact that I was indeed home. You know, in case someone wanted to leave the package inside. Or needed a signature. Or wanted to witness the steam coming out of my ears.

Naturally, that rave performance warranted another call to world headquarters. Someone needs to know what a good job they're doing here in Providence. I found out this time, that someone named Brown did sign for the package the day before.

Brown, you know, as in UPS Brown, because a signature of any other Brown, like, say Andre Brown, would seem to constitute fraud.

I got connected back to the local office too. Found out that my route is a training route. For what? I can't be certain. And that one of the two dudes content with leaving my wooden, antique TV stand in the depths of my backyard? A trainer. Which would probably explain why he scurried away so quickly.

I am certain that everything will be just fine from now on. We've stepped up our security measures to the next level. Code triple red: a signature AND id required for delivery.

I'm just not sure whose.

These Shoes Were Made For Walkin'

I never really thought much about my relationship with the UPS man.

I order things. He delivers. Pretty cut and dry really. But then he started messin' with my shoes.

In my advanced age, my feet have become increasingly more temperamental. Yet, I refuse, REFUSE, to go the traditional route of the American white sneaker. Contrary to popular belief, they do not go with everything. My solution? Bargain shopping stylish shoes on-line that are, gulp, given a seal of acceptance by the American Podiatric Medical Association.

Thank God they exist. And they arrive at my house on the creep. That's usually the easy part.

Granted, in the two years we've lived here, two things we were anticipating were never delivered: a pouch of prescription drugs (hope those water pills provided you with an outstanding high) and a pair of costume clip-on earrings. But in both instances, there was no proof of delivery, so replacements were issued immediately.

We've since smartened up, placing a vintage milk tin at the side door for the smaller stuff, which consequently makes us appear to be the only folks in the 'hood receiving a fresh milk delivery, as well as obsessively tracking the packages so we know which day to expect them.

My new shoes? The tracking status claimed they were delivered to the rear entrance. Now that's odd, because our UPS man du jour, while parked outside our house at the time that delivery was recorded, didn't exit the truck. I was watching. I know how this can go. So I called the on-line vendor, who launched the UPS investigation.

Such a serious term for a lost pair of sandals.

And thus began my intensive UPS education, where I learned, thanks to my new, slightly combative, pal at the national customer service center, that an investigation for a lost package takes 1-8 business days. During this time, not one, but two members of the UPS team, first national, then local, call to make sure you haven't somehow recovered your lost package, next to hypodermic needles in a weed filled lot.

I also learned that the UPS drivers have a whole lot of power. If no signature is required, they have the discretion to leave your box. Ho-hum. But much more disturbing: if a signature is required, they can use their authority to approach a neighbor, any neighbor, and ask them to sign for your package.

Say what?! Indeed, I trust my neighbor across the street, he's from Kansas after all, but I couldn't believe UPS asked him to sign for my new computer if I didn't come to the door.

Yup. All in the very same week.

As my shoe investigation entered its second week, the national office said the next step would be for the driver to return to the scene to see if he could remember where he left the package.

LOL indeed.

Two days later, the local office told me they'd be happy to close out the investigation, and refund my money, because it appears that someone is following said UPS driver around the neighborhood and stealing packages. Clearly, this must be one really quick thief. So quick, that I almost wonder if they hitched a ride on the truck. You know, on the back bumper or something.

So Brown, now that my case is officially closed what can you do for me? I'm so glad you asked.

1. Stop giving your full support to clearly incompetent drivers and/or scammers. 2. Consider that all of those boxes you are processing everyday actually have something in them--that the receiving party would like to see, instead of being obsessed with just the sheer volume of movement and the money that goes with it. 3. Work on getting someone cute to do my route, 'cause if we're going to be brushing hands over the delivery pad, seeing that my address now requires a John Hancock, it might as well be slightly enjoyable.

 And then all might be forgiven.