Dear Amazon:

Let me be the first to say that although your billionaire CEO annoys me on a regular basis, I have to admit you provide a wonderful service.  With the addition of the multiple (and massive) shipping facilities you have recently built in my area, the turnaround time from order to delivery is surprisingly fast (sometimes within an astonishing twenty-four hours).

I also have noticed a plethora of Amazon delivery trucks on the highways and byways of my daily travels.  Obviously, you are on a hiring spree.  That’s great for the local economy, and in an area where folks think a trip to ‘Olive Garden’ is a “fancy night out”, I’m sure the employment opportunities are a welcome addition to the working landscape.

Alas, here is where I have to pause and question your recent workforce acquisitions.  Now, I’m not familiar with your delivery processes, deadlines, and expectations, but it’s obvious that your drivers are under some stress to perform and get things accomplished – which in this case would mean emptying out their delivery vans of goods and packages with haste.

Now I know that it’s important to get rid of that big-*ss comforter that’s taking up space in the van as soon as possible, but dumping it off on my porch (when the address is clearly written as a house in the next block) just ain’t gonna cut it.  Your driver can take all the pictures of my door he likes (to prove that he dropped it off), but at the end of the day, it’s the wrong address – and now I have to deliver your product the last mile (to ensure it gets to the right person).  I’d say it was an honest mistake, but I’ve done this three times in the past month now (the latest was to a house nearly five miles away), so that’s apparently not the case.  I know Google is a different company, but for God’s sake, I can type in an address and get a legitimate map in about ten seconds.  Last time I checked, I don’t work for you – and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a box of canning jars, a Hawaiian mumu, and a set of llama shears that you’ve abandoned on my porch.  Somebody wanted them, but it’s just not me.

And what’s with all of these “stealth drops” after dark?  No door- knock, no bell ring, no contact of any kind from your drivers.  I open my door at 4:00 PM and there’s nothing there.  At 11:30 PM, there’s suddenly a package, like Santa’s elves performed some fly-by of my house and chucked a box on my property from the street.  No offense, but your competitors in the brown trucks at least have the common courtesy to knock when they leave something.

There’s an old adage in the business world that there are three factors to success – speed, quality, and price – and that you will only ever get two out of the three at any given time.  It’s readily apparent that you’re going for speed and price, because the quality (i.e. accuracy) or your deliveries is more than somewhat suspect.  If your driver can’t figure out that the #26 house comes somewhere between the #20 and #30 residence, then maybe operating a company van should cause your fulfillment manager to pause a moment before handing over the keys.

Honestly, take an extra five minutes and confirm the address before you drop a box.  No one needs a holiday candle that badly, and it won’t ruin my Christmas if that box of fudge from my Aunt Ginny comes an hour (or day) later.

I’m getting a little tired of seeing a package on my steps, reading the address, and then stating “not even close” in a disappointing tone.  To quote a favorite movie, “you’re killing me, Smalls.”

Sincerely,

Everyone