I bounced into the Post Office in Rainy the other day all suitably masked and joined the queue to pick up my parcel from Zoned.com. One thing this Covid19 pandemic has done is given Canada Post a real business booming boost.
I waited patiently trying to figure out who all the other masked patrons were. Since my glasses fog up I have given up wearing them so I am a little more vision challenged than usual.
“I don’t know what’s going on here. There’s two packages for you but they both have the same tracking number,” stated the Postmistress as she handed over the goodies.
“Oh, I ordered two of the same item, and they probably shipped them in two separate orders,” I reasoned and headed for home. They were biking goggle shields and I figured I would need two as I would lose one and those school buses rocketing by me put out enough of a wind wake to blast me with enough turbulence to rip a set off. So inconsiderate.
At home I opened the first package. It had both my sets of ordered goggles. Panic gripped me. Did I double-order? I better not rip the other envelope open. On to the computer. No – only one order for two pair. I confirmed my credit card was only charged once.
Hmmm? I checked the tracking number again. Exact duplicate. I ripped open the other package and pulled out some sort of garment. No invoice. No explanation. Checked the tag.
“Ladies XT Yoga Pants” was all it said.
I pulled them on. The legs were at least four inches longer than my 6’4” frame required, just barely clearing my toes. The waist and hips was firmly supported spandex. I quickly took them off afraid some unexpected visitor would catch me cross-dressing.
I cracked a wobbly pop and sat down to consider the situation. I thoroughly rechecked my credit cards and bank account. No indication of another charge or an order I’d forgotten about. Let’s face it – at my age I forget things. Then it hit me what must have happened and the ensuing panic and calamity that was in the offing.
Zoned for reasons unknown had printed two labels and as the packages whizzed by on the conveyor had applied the extra label to the next package in line throwing everything out of sync. I imagined the worst. There was no point notifying Zoned because they would deny, deny, deny, and I would wind up in email jail.
What if those yoga pants were destined for the just initiated Yoga Fitness Class at the First Self Righteous Church and instead they received the next package on the conveyor, a box of the latest sex toys destined for Pervs Anonymous.
I imagined a whole host of catastrophic but interesting ramifications.
But what to do with these XT Long Legged Yoga pants. Long legs? Wonder if Dorothy could make use of them? Hmmmm?
