Doll held hostage, Day 2

Well, my dollie is still in Anchorage. Monday morning, when I arrived at work, I had a message to call FedEx. So, I called them back, and tried to provide for them a better description of the doll (something better than "doll"). Then they asked for a fax number, so they could send me some forms to fill out. I guess they require a social security number, to prove I'm not importing a doll for nefarious purposes.



I gave them my home fax number, but when I returned home yesterday evening, I found a pile of the usual junk faxes, and nothing from FedEx. I called Fed Ex, and the woman at customer service referred me to another woman, who of course was not at her desk since by that time it was so late. I left a message, with my cell phone number.

So, this morning, still no forms, no message on my cell, no message at work. I called again, and this time the woman on the phone absolutely refused to pass me off to anyone else, including a manager. "I've put a trace on it." What does that mean? Only FedEx knows, 'cause she wouldn't tell me. And I guess the people responsible for faxing the forms don't have TELEPHONES, so I can't call them. Aha, that would explain why they can't phone or fax me! FedEx, are you listening? Get your people some phones, for gosh sakes!

The Continuing Saga of FedEx

Sooooo....



I called Customer Service at FedEx again, and this time was promptly put through (well, promptly after a charming 5-minute Muzak interlude) to Blessed Dana of the Fax Machine. Who faxed me stuff. Which I faxed back. Dana helpfully gave me absolutely no indication of what to expect next, nor when to expect it.

Some hours later, and according to FedEx tracking, my dollie is still stuck in the Yukon. But I feel a sense of accomplishment in that I sent a long distance fax from a work machine (an activity that involves punching in approximately 8,452 digits)!!

At least Husband is home again. (He brought me back a cute R2D2 t-shirt from the Yucatan!) Else I'd probably be tempted to run off snowboarding with Stitch.

Resin!

Man, I am in such a doll drought right now. I know from my empty bank account that I must ordered something--perhaps in a terrible doll fugue state.

Well, I know one reason that got me into trouble, with a capital "T" and it rhymes with "R" and it stands for RESIN!



Just got this today. No, it isn't 626 and his weird albino cousin. The one on the left is a limited Dizzney bobbledy-head, and the pale guy is a resin sculpture, in the words of Dizzney, "In the style of a tooling master." Vague, huh?

( What have I become? )