I've been waiting for a package from Barnes & Noble. My mom got me a gift card for Christmas, so I ordered a couple of books I've been wanting: Mark Doty's Fire to Fire and Connie Voisine's Rare High Meadow of Which I Might Dream. With the holiday, it seems to have taken forever for them to arrive.
Well, today was the day. The big brown truck pulls up outside, the uniformed guy leaves the box on the step and rings the bell, and I hurry outside to grab it. Pull the tape off, push aside the packing material. And what I find is not a book by Mark Doty. No, what I find is The Last Apprentice: Wrath of the Bloodeye by Joseph Delaney.
Seriously.
Fortunately, Connie Voisine's collection was at the bottom of the box, but now I've got to drive out to B&N today and fight with customer service (and hope that they have Mark Doty's collection in stock), or I've got to deal with shipping and then waiting for it to arrive again.
Lots of books I've ordered from Amazon, Powell's, and the like--hundreds, at least--and I've never gotten the wrong one. The first time I order from Barnes & Noble, this.
1 comment:
That's despicable.
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