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One has to be in awe of their unbreakable chirpiness

It’s not that I particularly like riding any high horse, as nature dictates me to always be fundamentally understanding and patient and who am I not to comply, but previous assumptions currently affirmed, the world of logistics has gone completely banana republic on us. A kind soul send me a parcel over a month ago from Holland, with an expensive label assigned to it, giving both of us the option, as clearly suggested, to track and trace its whereabouts, extra useful in times of corona delays and regulations.

Turns out not much is to be tracked with the label and to be traced even less, as I found out trying to comprehend what had happened to the never received package, by first ‘talking’ to this chatbot with a human name, obviously to make me feel more at ease, who questioned the hell out of me before it at long last presenting me with a phone number to call and another number to pass on to whoever would answer, making sure that person would not have to go through the trouble of filing the information, since I had already done that myself, very efficient, if only it would have saved me some time waiting in line to be heard, a ridiculous presumption.

A cheerful lady, one has to be in awe of their unbreakable chirpiness but to me it also equals a red flag to a bull, after a lot of unnecessary duplicate questions explained the whole exercise was doomed to fail and completely futile because I was the receiver, hence not the sender, hence not their client, thus not in any legal position to start an official inquiry.

This has been going on for ages, I know, and I recall in hilarious detail the girl from the provider I called years ago to complain about the suddenly extremely reduced speed of our internet connection, similar obstacles in place before actual contact could concur and when it finally did all she asked me if I was content living in the French countryside, quickly replying on my confirmation that if I wanted fast internet I should move to Paris before hanging up on me.

To keep me sane and help fight my dazzling hormonal imbalances from running amok, we grow lots of cruciferous vegetables at Les Pierres. Broccoli harvest has not come a minute too soon.

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