The back story: I ordered a pair of totally amazing boots that are both cute AND practical (and make julienned fries) from Zappos and was all set to receive them today. Sadly, when I went to track my package (heh), I discovered that UPS' attempt at delivery had been fruitless, as no one was at my apartment to sign for the package (heh). Determined to get a hold of said boots before soul/funk night tonight, I called UPS and asked if there was any way I could come pick up my boots this evening. (UPS was very nice, by the way.) I was informed that, yes, should I desire, I was welcome to come by the Watertown UPS office after work. Lovely.
Here's where a totally innocent web query turned insane.
I typed "watertown ups" into my search engine and turned up a relatively innocuous-looking site with directions, maps, and reviews of local merchants. I jotted down the address... then, suddenly, the "reviews" of this particular UPS facility caught my eye.
The first was a scathing indictment of UPS' apparently questionable business practices:
This store overcharges and cheats. They quote one price and then charge more when the work is done. UPS Store on Main St in Watertown MA is one I would recommend folks to stay away from.
December 23, 2007 by Why
Yikes! Given that I had only moments before had a very pleasant experience with UPS, I took this review with a grain of salt. Moreover, I'm fairly certain that UPS pricing and service charges are set by the corporate office, making it unlikely that "UPS Store on Main St in Watertown MA" should be accounted the culprit for this particular customer's shipping-related quarrel.
It got weirder:
I need to come clean about a review I recently send to this site.I need to apologize for comments I made about a UPS driver. U see, I'm a woman that was DUMPED by my husband for this girl and I felt the only thing Ican do was try to distroy her any way I could to get him back. I HAVE FAILED. I HAVE LOST AGAIN
September 15, 2007 by anonimous
Ok, I'm sorry... is this a review for a UPS store, or an errant "missed connection" posting from Craigslist? Am I to understand that this woman, this "anonimous," chose to take revenge on her ex-husband's new lover by "anonimously" sabotaging said lover's burgeoning career as a UPS driver?
It's the final sentences -- those chilling, bitter, all-caps cries of loss and failure -- that really touched my heart.
And finally, we move from the poignant to the bizarre:
Your office quite a few years ago hired a driver by the name of Maria Benitez who said she had a GED with out verifying that the GED was in fact a fake GED. Maria Benitez is in fact a dropp out of Madison Park High School and if nothing is done out of this, I will take this matter further than what you can imagine. These documents should be verified for accuracy and this one was not.
February 07, 2007 by Unnonimous
First, the title: a punchy, declamatory statement of the author's intent (basically). Succinct and lovely. From this opening confrontation we move, at breathtaking speed, into the vicious accusation: A high school dropout! From Madison Park, no less -- just blocks away from my office in Roxbury. The horror! We are not yet done, however, as we then encounter the THREAT: Further. Than. What. You. Can. Imagine. I see those words flying towards me in the preview for a summer blockbuster. Perhaps "The Fantastic Four 3: The Rogue Delivery Woman." Tagline: "What can Brown do for YOU, bitch?"
Is it possible that this posting constitutes the "comments" that our friend "anonimous" is now regretting she so hastily made? Perhaps not, as this "Unnonimous" appears to have taken a different approach to misspelling that blanketer of online offenses, "anonymous." To be honest, I think I prefer "unnonimous" to "anonimous," as the former implies not merely a lack of nomenclature (as does the wimpier prefix "a-"), but rather a deliberate shunning, DEFIANCE even, of names per se. "Unnonimous" is a strong, cunning woman, determined to bring down this interloping wench and destroy her chances at happiness. "anonimous," lacking even the gumption to capitalize her own name, is but a broken shell of that first woman, drowning in her feelings of remorse and desperate, desperate loneliness.
In conclusion: hooray for my new boots!
P.S. Here's a sports tip to keep your appetite whetted for Sunday: Try saying R.W. McQuarters' name with a thick Irish brogue. Make it as jaunty as possible. This amuses my brother and me for hours.