Held Up In Transit

Photo of Mr Bumpy, a black and white cat, at a table, with a cup of coffee. Accompanying text says, "I never, ever, will again, take a good coffee for granted.

Poem by Iris Carden

My world came crashing down, the day my coffee maker died.
I spent a day in shock, and periodically, I cried.

Then the answer came to me, just before the day was done.
I couldn't live without good coffee, so I'd buy another one.

I didn't have the cash. I did the only thing I could.
I put the thing on credit, even though I never should.

I ordered a really good one, it was on sale online,
I waited for a week. They really took their time.

(There'd been one in store in Oxley, less than an hour away.
I'd chosen "delivery", hoping it would come next day.)

Then I emailed the supplier, to ask when it would come,
I didn't get an answer, my anxiety did run.

Four more days later, I  again went to their site,
I told the chat both my story, and asked "Is this right?"

The bot put on a human who said, "I know I can fix this.
It will  be just a few more days. You'lI get it, I  promise."

I got the tracking number, and I've got a story for ya:
instead of  here in Queensland, it was coming from Victoria!

I watched the tracking page, for my coffee maker's journey,
it spent a night in Melbourne, then was on its way to me.

It only took a day to get to New South Wales.
If it kept going at that speed, there'd be no need for this tale.

Apparently New South was just the place to be,
It had a little holiday, at the depot in Botany.

Eventually, it moved again, I was relieved to see,
It was at Brisbane airport, so very close to me!

Next day I saw it  listed as "on board for delivery,"
I waited all the day, but no package came for me.

Then I checked the tracking details. My emotions took a hit.
It was stuck at Woolloongabba, and  "held up in transit."

Now I'm sniffing coffee beans, that I can't turn into a brew,
I'm desperately craving coffee, and I'm very grumpy too.

Here's the moral of my story, before I end my rant,
I never, ever, will again, take good coffee for granted.

A rough map of Australia, with the road route from Melbourne to Ipswich marked in red. Accompanying text says: An epic, 18,000km journey.
I thought you'd like an update, to my extended story.
It took three more days to get here, but now the coffee's flowing free.
Three weeks from when I ordered, early on Saturday,
I was woken by the message, it's been delivered to my place.

I rushed to my front door, and found a box marked "heavy".
I struggled to bring it in, but for coffee I was ready.

Unpacking it was awkward. Appliance boxes always are.
I nearly dropped it on the dog, before I got it free at last.

Here's advice to fellow addicts, if you're ever stuck like me,
I should've ordered "pick up", and just driven to Oxley.

By Iris Carden

Iris Carden is an Australian indie author, mother, grandmother, and chronic illness patient. On good days, she writes. Because of the unpredictability of her health, she writes on an indie basis, not trying to meet deadlines. She lives on a disability support pension now, but her ultimate dream is to earn her own living from her writing.

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