The insurance industry largely relies on paperwork with original signatures. As a result, we are always over-nighting forms. While FedEx is great, we use UPS. One of the companies we work with gives us 30% off for all UPS mailings. It’s really a matter of cost. But because of the frequency of overnight shipments we receive, I’m familiar with the FedEx guy too. This is what happens when your desk is situated at the entrance.
“Hey,” the FedEx delivery guy said as he came through the door empty handed and leaned on the counter.
“Let me guess, you’re here to get a ten pound box,” I answered with a smile.
He held up a label.
“Wait,” I said as I got up out of my chair. “You have a return label too!?!?”
“Do you have the box?”
“It’s fraud. Someone’s using me as a front to pass stolen merchandise. I have the box but I’m not giving it to you. A different FedEx guy and a UPS guy were both here last Friday trying to pick it up.”
“Hold on, I’ll call my boss,” he said as he punched some numbers on his phone.
I stood there, my hip leaning on my desk and my arms folded across my chest, and waited for him to finish the call.
“Well,” he started. “You’re at least the third person today that this has happened to.”
“Shut up! And to think I was feeling so special. Hey, can I copy that label you have?”
“You can keep it. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
I took the label and read the information. I was noted as the sender and some gal named Nicole DeJesus in Springfield, Massachusetts was the identified recipient. Also, the value of the package was noted as $100, an amount $900 shy of accurate and conveniently low enoughto bypass a signature upon delivery.
Maybe Nicole is just another version of me, an innocent party caught up in a web of deceit. Or maybe she’s part of the scam. At this point, it shouldn't take a rocket scientist to follow the path back to the criminals. The FedEx label clearly is linked to a shipper code and, well, you get my point.
I stapled the label to my pile of paperwork, sat down at my desk and got back to work. Two hours later, the Pilate's instructor who rents the other half of the first floor from us, came running over.
“FWW–2903!” she yelped.
“What?” I asked.
“Write down FWW-2903. It belongs to a car that was idling out front for a suspiciously long time.”
On a scrap piece of paper, I noted the license plate. Then I went onto the UPS site and printed out a label. I taped it to the Lenovo box, and passed it off to my usual driver. I'll end up footing the bill for the return of the stolen laptop but at the very least, I felt better knowing I no longer had it on hand.
It's been twenty-four hours and I've heard nary a peep. Maybe the laptop was the curse? Like that Tiki thing in the Brady Bunch episode to Hawaii? Or maybe Nicole gave up on me, figuring I'd already disposed of the laptop. Or maybe she's hiding in the shadows, outside my office, waiting to pounce. Whatever, I can totally take that bitch.