UPS.

Sweet god, i wish I had enough time to tell you all that Brown’s done for me lately.

Let’s start with a bluefly order I placed back in October for a lovely, reasonably priced, ruby Kenneth Cole peacoat. Let’s talk about how it never got here, and how UPS denied culpability until, following an investigation into the shipping, it was discovered that they delivered it to an address two doors down. Now, I don’t live in the best neighborhood, so I can only imagine that a lovely, reasonably priced ruby red Kenneth Cole peacoat would be at least as pleasing to whoever signed for it as it would have been to me. Plus, for the signer, it was free, which is a pretty sweet deal.

So, to start, UPS fucked me out of a hundred dollars, plus shipping, for three months.

Brown also kept me standing in line for 40 minutes the other Thursday, only to arrive at the counter and learn that my truck wasn’t in yet, sorry, try again tomorrow. When you can wait in line. For another 40 minutes. Again. Tomorrow night.

Brown lost a couple packages that I shipped for work all weekend last weekend, resulting in a delay that had no less than five of my higher-ups asking me what the hell happened to our tapes. Totally less than awesome, as the refrain “but I dropped them off a half hour BEFORE I dropped off the masters at Fed Ex!” rang lamer and lamer with each repetition.

And then, dear Brown, there was the time when you stopped shipment on a bridesmaid’s dress bound for Los Angeles via UPS ground. The bulk of my ire falls on the bridal salon for use of such a lame-ass shipping method, but the question remains: Why, oh Why did you stop shipment on the dress? You took a year off my life, Brown, with that stress.

Dumb slogan, dumb organizaton. Like a shit sandwich in December, UPS is there.