I bought a computer for my grandmother recently. Before you start thinking that I’m the best grandson ever, she bought it with her own money; I was just the middleman. We bought her a Dell because I received an email with a “Back-to-School” special that was right in her price range, even giving her more computer than she needs.
Since we wanted to install the system this Sunday, when I head up to Waco to see her and the rest of my family, and since the last time I ordered a system from Dell (a refurbed desktop) it came from Round Rock, I told my grandmother I’d have them ship it to me in Georgetown, just a few miles from Round Rock, in hopes that it would arrive via free 3-5 day ground shipping before Sunday.
After checking the tracking number, I was shocked to see that the computer was being shipped from Tennessee! I was saddened by the fact, but chalked it up to the fact that my grandmother’s computer was not a refurb unit, and, ergo, was not being shipped from Round Rock. Oh well.
I just checked the tracking number again tonight (Friday). Where is the computer currently sitting? At a DHL station. In Waco!
I’m scheduled to receive the packages on Monday, one day after I’ve gone to visit her.
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Brought to you by a drug rehab recovery center in Malibu. Really? Really.
