an ode to Charlton 8/20/10

Songs being listened too:
Summer in the city --Regina Specktor
Peach Plum Pear -- Joanna Newsome

I haven't written for a while.... so I guess I'll write something now. Anything....
hmmm.... I guess I haven't told you all about my DHL experience.

Ok... so a couple weeks ago, my dad sent me a package thru a company called DHL which is kinda like FedEx. He was sending me my laptop with my Hindi rosetta stone and some clothes. DHL's motto is something like "Duty free door to door delivery", which I thought an impressive promise, seeing how everything in India seems to be covered in manure. I later found out that "Duty" was actually tax on imported items....or something.

So I get a call.... it was a man with a strong Indian accent that I couldn't decipher (and I'm pretty good with the accents now). It took me 10 minutes to figure out who was calling, another 5 minutes to figure out that DHL was not an Internet provider, and another 10 minutes spelling out my Email so he could write me whatever the [Hades] he was trying to tell me. I never received an E-mail, but I did receive another phone call from a nice enough gal with a very understandable accent. She told me that I had to come down to customs to open my package and something regarding "Duty fee". This sounds simple enough, but by metro and taxi it took two hours to get there.

Once I arrived at (the opposite, and desolate side of) the airport I could tell I was going to have trouble finding a ride home, since I was on the opposite side of a very large airport and there were no taxis to be seen. It was 9:00 when I arrived. long story short, I was there for another NINE HOURS before I went home. luckily there were 5 other equally frustrated people that were called in for the same thing and waited the same hours before going home. One of them I was very thankful for, as she turned out to be my advocate/translator to the DHL bureaucratic slaves who spoke "no English, Hindi only".

In that nine hours we were switched from room to room to warehouse to room to warehouse to office to room to warehouse. It was chaos. No one knew what the other was doing. The warehouse where I knew my possessions lay in captivity anxious for their owner, reminded me of that place from Indiana Jones where they ended up putting the Arc of the Covenant (never to be seen again... I might add).... except not nearly as organized. I swear to you that I saw a man drive a fork lift at least 30 mph right past me, narrowly avoiding impailing a co-worker while holding a giant box that read "Fragile" and "This side up^" upsid down as it peeled around the corner.

After a long time they finally brought out my box and opened it right in the middle of the warehouse. They didn't even look at anything, but I did and was pleased to see that my computer had survived the forklift ride from hell that I was sure I'm sure it had experienced. One of my only comforts while in that giant warehouse of emotion was texting april. I told her that the only way I could make since of all of this chaos, was that in my two year absence from India, a race of advanced primates had taken over India's biggest courier services and bureaucratic systems. to this she replied "Get your filthy hands off of me, you damned dirty apes!". That phrase stuck with me and became somewhat of a mantra for the rest of my hours in DHL.

My advocate translated to me that they might want as much as $100 dollars from me (which I didn't have) for "Duty fee" on my "duty free" package. This kind of pissed me off. I felt like they were robbing me with a fountain pin. She told me to refuse to pay whatever they asked.

After opening my box, they ignored me a matter of hours. It was so frustrating to be reunited with my things and be so close to the door, but still have to wait to be robbed. In this time I actually tried to steal the package three separate times. The first try I carried the whole open package right past the security guards and pretended like I had authority to do so... and I made it surprisingly far before being stopped by an armed guard. The second attempt was very similar but I didn't get nearly as far. The third attempt would have been successful if I had ran: I realized that everything in the package could fit inside the laptop bag, which was much more of a discrete container than a giant box (this box was way to big for the items it contained). I put everything in the bag and just waltzed out the door. I made it 10 feet past the guards before one of the workers started shouting for me to come back and the guards took my stuff again and put it in the box.

After refusing to pay the duty fee, they realized that the box was "duty free" and said I could go home. "Does this mean I can take the box?".... "No. We will send it to your address" was the translation I had from my advocate. I told her to tell the man that "I'm not going to let your irresponsible, incompetent, joke of a company touch my personal belongings anymore. I'm taking the package home". I'm not sure if all that was translated. He finally gave me permission, but he didn't say it with confidence or authority. I have a feeling I wasn't actually allowed to do it, but I made such a stink about it that I think he feared me a little. I then went back to the warehouse and made a fourth attempt and making off with my belongings; I was once again met by shouts "Stop! no! Down!" but I just kept walking with the box and shouting that I had permission. when someone touched my box, I muttered quite inaudibly "get your filthy hands off my box you dammed dirty apes!".... and that was apparently enough to get me out the door. it was 6:30pm when I left. (I should mention that I am in no way implying that Indian people are apelike.... I am just fairly convinced that DHL is run by primates)

I ended up walking a half mile with my package (the guy said i couldn't leave the box there for some reason) before I found a taxi. When I found one, it was a pre-paid taxi, and maybe the most honest and pleasant man I have met in Delhi. We picked up his wife from her work at the other side of the airport before he turned on the meter. He stopped at a gas station and told me he would be a while in the gas line and said I could go in and buy a drink if I wished. This convenient store was ironically called "In & Out". I didn't realized that in the 9 hours I was in DHL I had nothing to drink and nothing was offered to me. Without realizing it, I bought 2 liters of water and 5 liters of soft drinks and brought it up to the counter. In my head, it was a perfectly sensible thing to do, and I had every intention of drinking the 7 liters in the car. It wasn't until I brought them up to the counter and paid for them that I realized how ridiculous it was for me to buy that much. The man at the counter said "Are you going to drink all of these now? are these all for you?! hahaha!" and I laughed back and replied "Seven liters? are you kidding me? of course not!!"

by the time I made it home it was 8:00pm. I left had left that morning at 7:00 pm. Do the math. It took me 13 hours for me to get my package. the worst part was that it was one of my last precious days left with April that I had to waste on a company that was payed to deliver door to door. I don't take much comfort in the fact that there are much much greater injustices in Delhi.