Please excuse my writing. I can’t stop my hands from shaking, ’cause I’m cold and alone tonight.
Nah, I jest.
Let me start by saying, I love you, Amazon. I really do. Deep down, I know you’re evil, but I have no qualms about kicking the little guys to the kerb if it means I can get stuff just a little bit cheaper, a little bit quicker, and without having to leave my house. And the last bookshop in my town closed two years ago so that they could open a second Nandos and an all-you-can-eat restaurant, so if I want to buy books I don’t actually have that many options.
I preordered a book in July. It’s all over Instagram, which means it’s super-cool, which means it’s OK to say it was ‘Yes Please’ by Amy Poehler. It was released in the UK on November 6th, which I know off the top of my head because I was so excited. And then on the morning of November 6th, instead of getting an insanely over-packaged (the earth hates you, Amazon) but otherwise innocuous parcel, I got an email.
‘Yes Please’ wasn’t going to be available to ship until after Christmas. Which is so funny, Amazon, because you were selling it that same day for next day delivery. You’re also selling it now and it’s still available for next day delivery. It’s almost like you have enough copies to go around to everybody who ordered them. The email said I could cancel my order, which I immediately did because to hell with that, and when it asked why I was cancelling, there was no option for ‘I’m being screwed over and I give up’. I ordered the Kindle version in 3 seconds flat – because I’m angry, Amazon, but like any trust-abusing relationship I will keep coming back for more – and I looked forward to reading it and hating you at the same time.
I wouldn’t even mind (That’s a lie) but the order I made before this one was also a pre-order. ‘Not That Girl’ by Lena Dunham, if you must know. I’m so zeitgeisty. This time there were no emails. There was nothing at all. Instead I just sat there, refreshing my order status, looking at the black letters that said ‘not yet dispatched’. For at least three days after the book’s release, it was ‘not yet dispatched’. Not until I wrote to you, Amazon, to suggest that you pull your thumb out of your arse, did anybody think to pop a book in an envelope and just slip it in the post. It’s not like my order was somehow shocking to you. You knew about it for a fortnight before the book came out. You probably had the books in the warehouse a couple of days before they were released, too. Anyone might think you’d pack up the pre-orders in advance of (‘pre’, if you will) the date of release. Apparently not. Maybe I’m too optimistic. I like to see the best in all massive, heartless corporations. I know deep down you love me.
I don’t want to contact you directly, Amazon, because you can be certain that the person on the receiving end of my vitriol is not the person who should be and, having had to professionally take complaints about other people that I shouldn’t have had to take, I know that’s not fair. It’s also futile.
It was short. It was sweet. We tried.
(I swear I’m done now.)
Anyone else have a love/hate relationship with a website?