Stop the presses

There is this guy I know. Dogs cross the street to get pets from him, and even the most hateful cats love him, because he exudes some sort of “nah, I just want to romp too” vibe.  He will spend literally hours learning about a breed of animal and is now full of more facts about bizarre wildlife than most public television.

He is a ridiculously good photographer with an even pickier sense of self-confidence than I have, which is saying a lot.  He has a job in a dying industry and gets into godlike rages at the pitiful excuses for first aid his superiors half-heartedly attempt. I can’t understand how he is such a good photographer, every time I see a snippet of a new project of his I am floored.

For various reasons he has stopped eating grains and feels about a million times better.  For breakfast he has “bear cereal”, which is berries and nuts with cream poured over.  He yells at crows out of the car window.  He has the prettiest hair and likes to have his toenails done.

When I want to buy something particularly ridiculous and glam I just need to ask him if I should and he says yes.  He always goes for the sparkliest thing.

I’ve known him since he was nineteen, but I don’t want to think about that too much because we’re both twenty-seven now and that is kind of a long time.

All these boring words.  Not enough pictures!

I’ve been doing my nails every week, but utterly failing to remember to document them.

Our yard is getting springy. I am in love with our rampant dandelions.

I keep plugging along at Project Runway Play-Along.

So, I ordered from Bliss Soaps during their big sale this winter, and it took forever to get here, etc.  Now, because I use the soap I got regularly, and have an object-cued memory, I remember the crap customer service I got whenever I shower.  But, because it is during my shower, I never remember outside the curtain, since shower time is also time for imagining how poised one would be during magazine interviews and whatnot.

But! Finally remembered.  Here is the email I sent after receiving my order.

Hi,

As I also work for an thriving online business, I understand how difficult it can be when unexpectedly slammed with orders and the problems with balancing customer service, quality and not going crazy.  However, I was pretty disappointed overall with my recent Bliss Soap experience.

The word I’ve heard is that you all were overwhelmed with responses to your recent sale, which is wonderful in a way, as I realise how finacialy boned you were after dealing with that large client order that didn’t pay.   This made me give some leniency to the surprising distance in time between seeing my order go from processed to shipped.  I will admit to becoming rather worried, then annoyed, as the time after my order was marked “shipped” (I first noticed it November 17th) stretched to a week, then two weeks.  As I’m in Portland, just south of Seattle, a straight shot mailing-wise, I expected the order to arrive much more quickly, especially as it you ship flat-rate priority.

It wasn’t until hunting around on your main site, that I found the small link and notice to the delay in shipping that could take about two weeks.  I’d been keeping an eye on your actual store site (http://stores.blisssoap.com), as not only was that where I ordered and expected online store related updates to be posted, but the basic backend of that site design is clearly more easy to update with important notices than the graphics-heavy, crowded “About Us” and brick-and-mortar info page that is http://www.blisssoap.com/.  Though my order was listed as “shipped” by November 17, the shipping label was printed (or dated) November 25, I’m just going to note that I think I would have been happier overall to have not seen my order marked as “Shipped” until it actually was.

However, I did get my order, yesterday, November 30.  I was bummed to open the mailer and see the Styrofoam container one item came in jammed and broken and open (luckily all soap arrived whole!), the receipt completely crumpled.  Whatever, it’s soap.  I have attached an image of one item, as I’m not sure if it is in fact the Tea Tree Shampoo Bar I ordered or something else.  There was, after some searching in the corners of the mailer, a paper slip that explained how to use a solid shampoo bar, so I’m guessing this is the right item?  Unlike the other soap, which was very nicely labelled and wrapped (though none of the bars were dated, how long before they’re off date?) this is the one that had broken free of its container, which wasn’t labelled anyway.

So, I don’t think I’ll order from you guys online again, but I do want to visit your storefront sometime, as I am happy with the products I got, I just don’t want to deal with the way you handle your online business.

There was also an attached picture of the soap in question.  This is the email I got back:

B. Zedan,

I am [redacted], Phils partner in Bliss-Soaps.  I’m over the production and shipping dept.  I take care of 95% of the shipping orders for our company.  When I send packages to our customers, I can assure you that I give the utmost care and concern that the order I’m dealing with each time is checked off, wrapped properly, packaged securely, and I send with the product a note telling the customer how appreciative I am for their support and love of our product.  No matter what I read, I care more than the majority about the customer and their experiences with our product and customer service. I will defend this whether it be the wrong or right thing to do in the seller & buyer relationship, or if it sounds like I’m to sensitive and overreacting.  It is the way I feel and I only know how to be honest with my customers and anyone I come in contact with. We all have different personalities and this is mine. It just is how it is with me and this is a good thing in my life.\
I am extremely impressed with your thorough and very well explicit and direct comments on your experience with us. I am very saddened by what I read.  This is in no way exceptable to me and I am not happy about it.  I would like to ask if you could please try to find time out of your busy schedule and call me to discuss this further.  My cell number is [redacted].  If you would rather e-mail a phone number where I may reach you so that the phone call isnt at your expense, that probably be better.  I am extremely concerned with what I have read and I will get down to the bottlom of this and correct those areas which you have indicated right away. This is unacceptable to me and you didn’t need compounding issues on top of the length of time it took to get your order.  I would rather explain to you my feelings actually with you on the phone.  If you feel this is acceptable to you, then I will be anxiously waiting on your phone call or e-mail with a contact number.
I do sincerely appreciate your honest straight & forward critiqueing and the professionalism it radiates.  I also feel concern and desire for the growth of Bliss-Soaps.
I know we will be able to recify this issue, besides learning & growing from this unfortunate situation.
Thanks so much for your e-mail.  I really hope to hear from you.

Now, my questions were answered regarding the off dates for the soap and if that was the shampoo bar were not answered.  I’ve got a paranoia about phones and strangers, and combined with the 12+ hours I was away from home, working longer days during holiday rush, there was no way I was going to call this guy.  Also? My phone number is accessible from my customer account on their site.  So my response, sent on the 6th of December:

Hi,

I apologise for the delay in reply, the rush of the holiday season has me either at work or commuting to it for most of the day.

I am much easier to get ahold of my email, if you have any further questions or an answer to my query if the soap I attached a picture of is the Tea Tree Shampoo Bar, please let me know.

And, a little over a month later, nothing back.

As far as the soap goes, I love, LOVE the smell of “Dragon’s Blood”.  And Chase is digging the soap with silk in that I got him.  The unknown soap that may be a shampoo bar has not been tried yet.  Both of us are disappointed with the body of the soaps, they’re very soft and have worn out quickly, sometimes dropping clumps off while scrubbing, like rotting zombies.  While we’ve been using the Bliss Soaps a bar of our regular stuff from FG Soap has been sitting next to them, getting just as much showerhead run-off and not shrinking.

So, overall a lame experience, but it fired up our love of fancy soaps, so I’ll be looking to Vilainess next.

    When I’m at home alone I’m rather careless about where I kick off my shoes. I figure, if I trip over them, it’s my own damn fault. So when the front door eased open a few inches before hitting my little Miami Vice slip-ons, my first thought was, “Oh shit, Chase is trying to come in and I’m an ass.” But instead of barrelling though and pushing them aside, the door suddenly jerked closed and I heard a lady stranger’s voice.
    “Oh.”
    Our building is the result of a particularly unique house reconstruction. In another era our apartment and that of our closest neighbour would be the servant’s quarters, accessible by side stairs and situated above the garage and the expansive two-bedroom flat below. It makes pizza delivery difficult, trying to explain how to find the side door that opens into a narrow, knotty pine panelled stairwell. So I figured this lady, whoever she was, had to be lost.
    Trotting over to the door, I kicked aside my shoes and opened it just enough to poke my head out and lean a shoulder against the jam. It’s not so much that I’m paranoid, I just really hate people.
    At the sound of the door opening, the woman in our entryway-mudroom spun around, in an off-putting mix of surprise and mild terror.
    “Oh!”
    Her easy-to-care-for short hair was plastered down from the rain, matching her coat, which was so saturated it might as well have been black. She had a little damp scarf peeking from the collar, one of those frizzy, foofy things seen around the necks of middle-aged coffee shop knitters. Quiet clicking nails brought my attention down to a small dog at her feet. The two of them had been out in the rain for a while.
    “Can I help you?” I tried out my nice voice. I figured, the lady got turned around or something, no reason to pull out the solicitor sternness, even if she’d attempted to open my door.
    I did not expect what she said.
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