Post: Apocalypticon March 6, 2013
Just give it to a German. Any German. Even someone that looks German. They’ll know what to do. Maybe just set it on a Mercedes. I’m sure it will get where it’s going. OK, how about you tie it to a horse that pointed towards Germany? They can swim pretty far, right?
I feel like Germany treats mail from the US with about as much respect as McDonalds treats the cards you stick in the suggestion box. With a sort of “We really appreciate your enthusiasm and we’ll take it under consideration. [wink]” kind of attitude. Every time I send a t-shirt to Germany I let it go with the same hopefulness and trepidation as a parent dropping their kid off at college. I hope it goes interesting places, finds out where it belongs and doesn’t get molested, torn in half and thrown down a well.
The weird thing is Italy and Spain are actually worse than Germany as far as items actually reaching their destination, but almost no one ever orders from those counties. Perhaps they have just come to accept that anything they order online needs to already be on their continent in order to have a fighting chance. I suspect all international mail entering Italy is “inspected” with “machine guns” by “mob-owned police” on “Vespas,” if you catch my meaning. More than likely, all mailboxes in Spain sit atop holes that lead directly to a vast network of underground furnaces. Spain probably ran out of oil in the 70′s and has been powering their entire infrastructure with heat generated from burning US parcels.
As in all things, Australia is always the wild card. Sometimes t-shirts get there in as little as two weeks, with nary a dingo ding on the corners. Other times the customer waits about 3 months, I give them a refund, an additional 3 months go by and I get the original package back in the mail looking like it has been securely affixed to the undercarriage of a dune buggy for the last half year. Or perhaps an Australian postal worker, having found himself stranded in the Outback, and having long since eaten his wallaby partner for sustenance (due to the unforeseen lack of naturally occurring bloomin’ onions), fashioned all of the parcels he was carrying into a crude shelter and clothing. Nearly a year later, after his bleached bones are found buy an Aboriginal bone trader, his packages are returned to their point of origin. At this point I realize that my envelope was obviously used to construct the bathroom floor, or perhaps a shoe that was only used for walking in vast fields of kangaroo shit.
UK mail from the US only takes a day or two longer than it does within the states. Hell, the Postal Office probably prefers delivering there as opposed to, say… Wyoming. What’s crossing an ocean when you don’t have to be in Wyoming? Canadian Customs can be a bit tricky. They tend to hold random things for a month or so, then eventually just send them on to their destination with no indication as to why they sat motionless for so long. I don’t think it matters, however, since the average Canadian has VERY low opinions of Canada Post and reacts to months delayed packages with a cheerful, “Oh well sure it was a birthday present and sure it was 9 weeks late, but hey, it’s not so bad, eh? All that matters is that we had fun waiting, eh?”
COMMENTERS: Have you ever had an international shipment eaten by THE GREAT ATLANTIC KRAKEN? Any other postal or shipping related mishaps?