I mailed a rather large order to a woman in England the first week of April. I had a funny feeling about it when I got home from the post office that day, and although I have never done this before, I left the money from her order in my merchant’s account, because my gut feeling was that I would have to refund her. Don’t ask me why – it was just one of those strange feelings that I occasionally get and then act on. But I digress. When her package hadn’t shown up in the usual time allotted to such things, she and I began an email correspondence about how best to solve the Dilemma of the Missing Package. I had sent it the cheap international way, as per her request, and although I have since become much more insistent about such things, I wasn’t overly pushy about it at the time… and as such, I had no real recourse. After many emails back and forth, we decided that I would send her other items totaling roughly the amount of her first order, since by this time, over two months had gone by with no package showing up on her end. Just this past Monday, I sent her replacement order, sent via a traceable international method, so we could both watch its progress across the Atlantic from our computers.
Today I opened my mailbox, and much to my surprise, there was her first package, looking very much worse for wear from its voyage, but intact, and peppered with stickers. Oh the irony! I think O. Henry would be pleased.