Meet My Friend the Meme/random thought

Hello, I'm a meme! If you're reading me, without even thinking, you're considering my well-being and perpetuation. If you want me to live, copy these four sentences, and paste them somewhere other people will read. Thanks!

Step right up, son!/life

And win the missus a Kewpie doll!

I am nearing the completion of the strangest mail-order transaction I have ever been a part of.

It started about two weeks ago when I ordered another 200 poker chips from CasinoSupply.com to round out the set Mary Alice gave me last year as an anniversary gift.

I've been very happy with Casino Supply's product, but the ordering process leaves a little to be desired. I've never gotten an invoice or order number, and there's no online order tracking until it's shipped.

When I placed the order, I was told that they would probably ship on or around January 14th. When the 17th rolled around without any chips, I called to check the status and see if there was some delay.

The person I spoke to in the shipping department looked up my name, gave me a tracking number, and that was that. Except it wasn't. I looked up the tracking number, and found that my chips were apparently in Bristol, Connecticut.

I immediately called back and spoke to the same person, at which time I was told that my order had no tracking number associated with it. He transferred me to another employee, who informed me that he'd look into the situation and call me once it was sorted out.

About fifteen minutes later he called to say that I had no tracking number because my chips were still being printed and would ship Monday. Given that all I originally wanted was the order status, I thanked him for the information and got back to work.

After I got home on Friday, I received an email from FedEx with a tracking number for my delivery. I thought it was odd that the shipment got fast-tracked, but was happy because it meant I would have them by Saturday.

I spent a good part of Saturday refreshing the FedEx tracking page and looking out the front door. I knew that the package had made it into Austin at 6:24 in the morning, so everything was looking good. 6 p.m. arrived, Mary Alice and I left for dinner and got back just after midnight. No package awaiting me on the doorstep.

On Sunday, I checked the tracking page again and saw that the package was marked "Delivered" on Saturday, with no time of delivery or "signed for" information. Relading the page caused the status to alternate between "Scanned at FedEx sort facility" and "Delivered". Nice and conclusive.

On Monday I emailed FedEx to try to determine what happened. I only received automated responses, so on Tuesday morning around 10:00 I called in an attempt to speak to a person. They initiated a trace and promised to call me when it was completed. About five minutes after we got off the phone Carol at FedEx emailed me in response to Monday's inquiry and said I should call FedEx in order to initiate a trace. Why she couldn't do it directly I don't know.

At 6 p.m., with the online status still showing "Delivered 1/17" and no phone call from FedEx, I decided to check back one more time. The FedEx rep told me what the first one should have - that traces take 24 hours to complete. I resigned myself to waiting and headed home.

When I pulled into the driveway, I thought I saw a box on the front step, but figured it was wishful thinking. If so, I should make more wishes because sitting on the doormat was a rather large box that stood almost hip high. After seeing the box, I was fairly certain it did not contain poker chips. As it turned out, I was the proud recipient of:

Suddenly, the 17 pound package weight reported by FedEx made a little more sense. I unpacked the wheel and dug out the invoice to figure out what exactly the snafu was. As it turns out, the package was supposed to go to...wait for it....

Bristol, Connecticut

I have no clue what kind of system is in place that first associated the incorrect tracking number with my account, then proceeded to cause a second order going to CT to be shipped to me. When you combine it with FedEx's tracking difficulties (their system now reports that the prize wheel was delivered to Mr F. Rontdoor on 1/20 instead of 1/17), you get a fiasco of epic proportions.

While I was talking to Casino Supply's answering machine, letting them know that I had their prize wheel, a new email message from FedEx arrived. My chips shipped out Tuesday night and should be waiting for me when I get home today.

I'm not holding my breath.

I've been oriented/software engineering

Spent most of Monday on campus attending orientation for the Software Engineering Program. It was my first time there as a student since May of 1999. I really take my familiarity with the 40 acres for granted...there are students from San Antonio, Bay City, and Tuscon, Arizona that are seeing everything for the first time.

The contrast between this orientation and the one I attended in 1994 before coming in as a freshman is just mind-boggling. There are only 30 people starting the program this year, opposed to 300+ that were in CS 304P with me. It seems I've already had more conversations with classmates and professors than I did in five years of undergraduate study. Part of that is due to me maturing and wanting to get more out of this program, but I also see a higher level of personal involvement from the faculty and staff. It is obvious that they want to help us learn and succeed. It helps that "lines of code" is no longer a foreign phrase to me, as it was 10 years ago.

My new wheelbarrow/life

Bear and I were out on our walk this morning when he began barking and growling at a foreign object on the sidewalk. The object of his rancor was an old wheelbarrow someone had discarded. It was sitting in the internationally understood position of "I'm tired of this damn thing, you take it." One of the handles was broken with the pieces thrown into the tray and the wheel was a little splayed.

Since I had been thinking about wheelbarrows moments before (I need to put down a layer of Dillo Dirt on my yard), I took the presence of the wheelbarrow as a sign. Then I took the wheelbarrow.

Walking eight blocks with a dog on a leash while maneuvering a disabled wheelbarrow is not an easy task. Fortunately we had already run quite a bit, so Bear was only tugging, not yanking. Now that I think about it, I probably could have attached his leash to the front axle and had an easier time, but hopefully I'll never have an occasion to find out.

We made it home after about 10 minutes and 10 strange looks from commuters. It will probably take me 10 weeks to finally fix up the wheelbarrow, but maybe I can get 10 years of service out of it after that.