The end of the shoe saga. The most current one. Although I don’t anticipate ever being engaged in another shoe saga that involves missing my address by a thousand miles, I am loathe to rule it out. Amazon gave me a refund, perhaps the most arbitrary if not random refund I’ve ever been party too. It was not random at all, the refund, the amount of the refund, however, seems pretty random. Text message wise it was a long and complicated explanation, due, in part, to the relatively small size of the screen. Three quarters of the way down it got to the meat of the reason; Goodwill. The transaction was a Good Will refund. I still had to read the other quarter of a message to see if they refunded Good Will or were extending good will.
Because it is crass to discuss money I won’t give precise numbers. Without a calculator I’m not a hundred percent … shit … without availing myself of one of the many calculators at my disposable, I’m not one hundred percent sure of the math, but I am very good at simple math problems. I was refunded approximately 27.39 percent of the purchase price which, uncharacteristically, included tax though not the rate of tax for any of the states the shoes originated from, visited or was the point of their final destination. I haven’t a clue what the legality of charging tax for an internet purchase is as I have never been charged tax for an internet purchase that came from outside the state in which I was or am residing, but I’m pretty fucking A sure you can’t cut a percentage of a tax for ‘Good Will’. Taxes inherently are imbued with lack of good will, or, in theory, will at all. One might even say with only small hyperbole that Tax is an antonym of Good Will.
I would need at least one calculator to figure out the percentage of good will extended if tax were excluded, and at least two calculators to figure out the percentage I was taxed prior to and post the extension of good will. It’s something close to 2.41 percent.
Also, according to the “My Account” on Amazon and the USPS tracking system, those fucking shoes are still in fucking Florida. I believe the state motto is The Sunshine State. Motto might be wrong, but the thing they put on license plates. Michigan’s used to be ‘If you seek a pleasant peninsula look around you.” It was hard to fit on the margin of the plate. I think Florida would be well served by stamping the plate “ Fucking Florida” or maybe “If you can read this you’re too young to live here.”
So I took my shoes on an adventure that involved me today. I went to the mall. I went to the mall specifically for the shoes and walking in them. I do, how-some-ever, spread joy and merriment wherever I go. People in general in the U.S. (I’m qualifying for native language purposes) say “Hi, how are you?” (allowing for geographically differences, some places Hi how are you is pronounced What the Fuck Are You Looking at? I will kill you all day long.) here even more so and among on-duty sales clerk in their place of business even more more so.
Spreading of Joy and merriment that I am I answered that challenge and followed whatever wacky shit I tailor made for each occasion with a hearty “How are you?” I find it gives people more options if I follow with how are you rather than lead with it. If I’m doing it right I can get a little air to escape their lungs, sort of like when you drop a hamster from your eye level. I don’t care how short you are, that’s a big fall for even a large hamster. Not mortal, but it’ll knock the wind out of the little fuckers. I say that with affection, I bear no hostility towards hamsters, I can honestly say there is not one hamster I’ve ever met that has given me cause to dislike. I just wanted an apt analogy for my morning rounds of joy and merriment. Um, a significant percentage of the joy and merriment was self serving. I’m going to write amazon for the precise percentage of joy and merriment that was self serving and the percentage that was altruistic. I have twenty bucks that says it won’t add up to one hundred percent.
Among the little rays of sunshine I shat at the mall was getting this lady, Jean the Jeweler is what she told me to call her, to show me engagement and wedding ring sets, you know the kind that stick together. She asked some personal question so I gave a back story, a really good one. The she asked about my intended style. I politely suggested that perhaps we should do custom as the settings available … Jean the Jewler actually gave me a sketch pad, well, loaned me one, so I could design. Heh.
I stopped in a bunch of shoe stores. I left each one with “I’ve been on a shoe bender, a binge, I should be banned.” The guy at foot locker, who knew I was kidding, probably, asked if he should take my picture for the wall. I said yes and left.
I got kabobs, rice and hummus at the food court, I know, weird, right? It’s the last mall in America you’d expect such fare … um, I was the only customer. There that guy decided I had spread enough joy and merriment and it was his turn. “I will entertain you,” he said. His idea of entertainment was making me samples of … Everything. I want to make him a custom ring now too.
I had more adventures but I’m worn out. I pretty much intended on just walking. The best laid plans of mice and men … Man plans, god laughs … A man, a plan, Panama!
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