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Having finished my big-ass proofing job last night, I sat down with the FedEx website this morning to find a place from which to ship it back. Found two "Authorized FedEx Shippers" within an easy walk and set out this morning.
Reached the first. It is one of those catchall offices that provides shipping (mostly to South America) and notary services, sends money to other countries, handles some insurance on the side, and...way in the corner, a sign that announces that they are an Authorized FedEx shipper. The ladies in the office look a little panicked when I walk in; one of them (seated across the room from the others) jerks her chin at her co-workers as if to say "Hey, you're on duty. Take it." The woman sitting behind the counter on the right side of the room asks anxiously if she can help me. "I need to send something via FedEx," I say brightly.
"Oh, okay." She sounds dubious.
"I need a box," I add.
A look of relief crosses her face. "I'm sorry, we have no boxes."
I tell her it's okay, and light out for the second shipper on my list. Which turns out (after another half mile walk) to be a Check Cashing Store that advertises just about everything else in the world except FedEx. And here my willingness to cross the street and again feel like I'm adding to someone else's burden for the day defeats me. I turn back for the apartment. This time I look up only FedEx stores proper. Because what I want to do is send a package, and that's what FedEx does, and I really don't want to send any more anxious women into panic attacks.
If you don't hear from me again, I died trying, honestly.
Reached the first. It is one of those catchall offices that provides shipping (mostly to South America) and notary services, sends money to other countries, handles some insurance on the side, and...way in the corner, a sign that announces that they are an Authorized FedEx shipper. The ladies in the office look a little panicked when I walk in; one of them (seated across the room from the others) jerks her chin at her co-workers as if to say "Hey, you're on duty. Take it." The woman sitting behind the counter on the right side of the room asks anxiously if she can help me. "I need to send something via FedEx," I say brightly.
"Oh, okay." She sounds dubious.
"I need a box," I add.
A look of relief crosses her face. "I'm sorry, we have no boxes."
I tell her it's okay, and light out for the second shipper on my list. Which turns out (after another half mile walk) to be a Check Cashing Store that advertises just about everything else in the world except FedEx. And here my willingness to cross the street and again feel like I'm adding to someone else's burden for the day defeats me. I turn back for the apartment. This time I look up only FedEx stores proper. Because what I want to do is send a package, and that's what FedEx does, and I really don't want to send any more anxious women into panic attacks.
If you don't hear from me again, I died trying, honestly.