Prime Time

Since I started using the internet, post-university, Amazon has been one of my go to websites. I have spent a fortune on there, if you were to look back through everything I’ve ever ordered. And I still do.

Obviously, it would have been nice if they’d paid some tax with the money I gave them, but I didn’t feel in any need to boycott them entirely for failing to pay their dues. I still wanted stuff. And they still sold stuff. Our relationship has held strong.

I love Amazon Prime. I love all the nonsense I get with it – Twitch Prime, and assorted free loot for games that I invariably don’t own; Amazon Video, for all the box set binges that I’ve started but never fully completed; and Kindle Unlimited for that one book I’ve apparently borrowed and never returned and so cannot borrow another book, even though there’s no record of me borrowing a book ever.

And I love the next day delivery. I love having things I have purchased brought to my door by a friendly Eastern European man who can barely say my name – but then, I could probably barely say his, either. So it’s all good.

I just don’t like it when they go against all the precedents they have set for themselves.

If you order from Amazon – and by you, I mean me – and you have it delivered the next day it invariably comes at about 5pm. Without fail. It’s like we’re on the home run of the delivery route or something. Always at 5pm.

I ordered some stuff – nothing exciting, I’m just bulk buying washing capsules before all the cool kids eat them all for a dare – for delivery. And then, at the last minute, I had to go into work. I left the house for four hours, across the late morning – early afternoon period.

Less than an hour after I left, a delivery was made and taken in by our neighbour (nice side, obviously). What the hell is all that about? What are they doing delivering at lunchtime? Where’s the commitment to the 5pm slot?

If I’m in and waiting for a delivery you can bet your arse they don’t come until the last possible moment. I spend the day keeping half an eye out for vans. Not daring to do anything that involves too much commitment in case they come, knock and I can’t answer because I’m doing something else.

But I leave the house and it’s like a little beeper must go off, notifying them that now is the absolute best time to deliver. So that I have to go to the neighbour’s and ask them for my overly large box of 200+ soap capsules. Except I didn’t. She brought them to me because I didn’t do anything about the delivery quick enough when I got home. Partly because as I arrived home, she was sitting in the passenger seat of a car which I then saw drive off. So I thought she’d gone out.

And partly because soap capsules are not a new toy to play with, otherwise I’d have been straight round for that shit.