Dumb grocery delivery and Andrew's Good Day

Well, let me be one of the first people to congratulate my husband, Andrew, on already beginning to reap the benefits of Fulbright-hood. Andrew got two pieces of good news: 1) he (well, WE actually, but since I don't know anyone who can babysit-- HE will be going) was invited by the American Ambassador to attend an Election Night Viewing Party at the Guinness Storehouse on 11/2; and 2) In March, Andrew will be attending a conference on EU politics, integration, blahblahblah in Brussels, Luxembourg, Mons, and Brugge (some of that list I'm sure is spelled wrong) all of which will be funded by Fulbright and other participating foreign governments. I've told him many times that if he came to me with a plan to study Irish national identity and European integration, I'd turn him down on the grounds that it's too nebulous a thing to study, but, if he wanted to write some poems, then maybe I'd shell out the cash.

What did I do today, you ask? Well, waited for my groceries to be delivered. We shop online once a week, and buy all the heavy things that would be too hard to carry on a long bus ride with Evan in tow. Yes, I waited for my groceries to arrive-- only 2.5 hours late. I'm debating calling Tesco Customer Service to turn on the American and demand that the delivery fee be eradicated from my previous bill, or else that they give me a gift voucher equal to the delivery amount so I can be compensated for loss of my precious time. I have plenty of time, I just don't have that much time to WAIT.

Well, the thing is, I'd feel sort of bad about turning on the American. Because people here are pretty nice. Two delivery girls showed up in the Tesco truck and were apologetic to the point of stammering: "So sorry we kept you waiting. Hope we didn't keep you from going out. Really, we're just so sorry..." So, of course I said, "It's no problem." I offer one tip to those looking to have groceries delivered to their home: expect unreliability, you're paying for a convenience service, not promptness.

Because Tesco has failed to deliver my things on time two out of three deliveries, they get a total F- on the customer service report card. And because they ask you to sign up for a time slot which they cannot guarantee or abide by, again, a total F-. But, they get an A for making it so I can still shop like an American, once a week instead of every day. God knows I am still too American-lazy to shop every day.

The delivery girls get an A too, because they were still polite in spite of the fact that steam was coming out my nostrils. I didn't really want to yell at them or complain to them. They didn't design a company scheme that's completely unrealistic to adhere to. It's no good complaining to the plebians, they're just trying to make an honest living under the iron thumb of The Man. I know how that goes-- having worked ALL SUMMER LONG in bloody retail hell.

Slainte to Munka B: she has answered the question from my previous post about Velasquez and Lavery. She wins some barmbrack, hot from the oven.

Hopefully better inspiration tomorrow.