Just Another Case of Deplorables


My life is deplorable, even though I’m not a Trump supporter.

That should be good enough to lose a few more Twitter followers; so before you go, I’d like to say “thanks” for nothing.

Regarding the latest poop in the “Waiting  for my new guitar case” fiasco (see previous entry), USPS had updated their Web’s tracking site this morning, saying the parcel was now out for delivery.

Oh boy, I was so excited, deciding to stay indoors today and wait for it, which served me well. Most of the snow melted off the Cooper, saving some work when I leave tomorrow. If I wait long enough, probably all of it will be gone before my taking off.

In the meantime, I finished messing with the final mixing of Rie’s and my duet, for which I’ll share it with you:

Incidentally, that picture for the cover song is of the Delaware River in Bristol, PA. I borrowed it from the engineering company who drew up the plans for the new pier and two floating boat-access docks, seen jutting out into the waterway from the existent pavilion.

Thanks in advance for all the kind response as always. It was overwhelming on Twitter and Facebook too. Sorry, my sarcastic side is showing.

Not hearing anything from the mailman, I checked USPS’s tracking to see it had listed my parcel as being delivered at my front door at 4:06 p.m. this afternoon. Leaping up and checking outside, I was flabbergasted to find out it wasn’t there, instantly feeling my blood pressure was rising.

I got on the phone and called Bensalem Township’s post office, raising hell, reading them my litany of complaints—as can be seen on yesterday’s post— while explaining that the postal carrier must have delivered it to another address.

The poor supervisor who took the brunt of my overblown wrath requested my phone number, and said he would call me if anything turned up. Thirty minutes later, my door bell rang.


A postal employee awaited and said he had spoken to the mail carrier, who said she had delivered my mail to the wrong building in my complex.

To help her out, he went there to retrieve it and brought me the envelope that’s seen on the left.

“That’s all you got?” I said. “There’s supposed to be a guitar case with it.”

“But this is all there was,” he said, taking a picture of what he had brought with him and said he would talk to the woman who made the initial delivery to the wrong apartment.

Jotting down my phone number, the postman said he’d let me know what he found out.

About ten minutes later, the man called and said the envelope was all that was delivered previously.

That’s when the opening sentence to this tirade had first crossed my mind. Thanking the guy for his troubles, I began to start my writing campaign to both the guitar-case distribution company and Amazon where I purchased the item, insisting they either complete my order, or I will issue a complaint with my credit-card company and stop payment on the transaction.


Pick Sampler

I had opened the envelope and found a package of guitar picks, which was a sampler that came gratis with the guitar case. It’s always nice to have some extra picks around, but they would have been better received along with what I had originally ordered in the first place.

A packing slip was also in the envelope. The line item for the case was slashed out, and the pick sampler was circled.

The word “Dropship” was handwritten on the sheet, leading me to believe the case was never sent out.

I sent scans of both the envelope and packing slip to Amazon and the seller.

So I need to wait a couple of days to hear back from the shipper in Newbury Park, California, before going through the hassle of asking for a refund or stopping payment on my credit card for the order which has already been paid.

Then I have to start over and order another case. Maybe I’ll go to Sam Ash nearby at the Franklin Mills Mall and buy it there, saving me any grief.

My apologies are in order for my ramblings-on, but I needed to vent my frustration, and this is the best way for me to do it. Feeling a lot better now, I’ll close this diatribe, for which my lucky readers received two of them this week.

Thanks for your continued support.





About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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2 Responses to Just Another Case of Deplorables

  1. As of today, Monday, I haven’t heard from the guitar-case supplier. I requested a refund with Amazon, and they are dragging their tails on this as well. Tomorrow, I file a complaint with my credit-card company, and maybe the Better Business Bureau too.

  2. As I was filling out a complaint this morning (Tuesday) with the bank and disputing the charge on my credit-card for the missing guitar case, I finally heard by e-mail from the case distributor, who said the item had been drop-shipped and lost in transit. They offered to ship out another one immediately, or give me a full refund; for which I requested the latter, not wanting to go through all that again. Amazon ultimately refunded the total amount. Now I’m waiting for the credit to show up on my statement.

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