-$4.95

Back in September, I made my first ebay purchase -- 18 vintage airmail envelopes for $2. My exuberance at my "win" in the online auction world was barely tainted by the fact that no one else was competing with me for them. I can't imagine why. They are very cool.

Some of my friends are living in China this year, and I wanted the envelopes so that I could write to a couple of them. Thin envelopes that say "via air mail" and have short blue and red stripes framing the border are not strictly necessary - in fact the post office doesn't sell them anymore - but they are way cooler to receive.

A girl who buys vintage envelopes will want special paper to go with them. It's sort of the "if-you-give-a-mouse-a-cookie syndrome." I returned to ebay to look for onion skin paper but couldn't find anything satisfactory. Amazon was a bit more help. I would suggest trying Amazon if you ever find you need 500 sheets of the stuff or are willing to spend an exorbitant amount per sheet. I wasn't interested in either option, so I settled on ordering some thinner-than-onion-skin paper (8 lb. paper, rather than 9 lb) through Amazon from one Phil's Stationery. It was 100 sheets for $4.95 which seemed very reasonable, though the shipping and handling fee of $9.75 was excessive.

Amazon warned me that it could be 5 days before the paper was shipped, in addition to the regular shipping time. When a couple weeks passed and the paper still hadn't arrived, I started to get a little concerned. I had just made up my mind to follow up through Amazon when I got this message in my Wheaton email account:

Carol,

I have a package that you ordered from Phil's Stationary sent me by mistake....

Please call me...thank you.

Janet S.


Puzzling.
I called Janet and left a message, and we played a little phone tag. Janet suggested that I come into Chicago where she lives to pick up my package, but I was disinclined. Nor was I willing to send her money for shipping when it wasn't my fault in the first place. She gave me Phil's Stationery's phone number with the imperative, "Call them directly."

I called and discovered to my delight that the proprietors of Phil's Stationery have wonderful, thick New York accents. I didn't mind listening while Phil told me all about the debacle that ensued when the guy usually in charge of Amazon orders was out of town and someone else sent the shipments. He lay the orders out on the table and matched all the packages with the wrong address labels. My small order was the least of their worries, but that didn't stop them from being apologetic and promising to set all to rights. It seemed that Janet had also already called Phil's and agreed to mail me the package if they sent her money. "It's already taken care of. The check is in the mail," they said.

"It's taken care of" is what I communicated to Janet, and she responded with, "Do you want me to throw out your package? Let me know."
No! Please, no! Further explanations.

Quite a few days passed, and I checked CPO regularly, always disappointed. I called Phil's Stationery again to complain that the paper still hadn't arrived and to request reimbursement for the shipping and handling fees I had paid. Phil commiserated with me about the cost. Amazon doesn't make any sense to him. They would mail me a check and if my paper didn't arrive by Monday, they'd send it to me themselves.

Then just a couple hours later, I got a call from Janet:

Janet: Hi, Carol. I got the check from Phil's today.
me: Oh, great! I'm so glad.
Janet: No. No, it's not great. I got the check, but it was for $7 and not $8, and, get this, it wasn't signed. It wasn't signed. And it's ridiculous the amount of time I'm putting into this.
me: Oh no! I'm so sorry. I'll call Phil's - you won't have to worry about this any more.
(and to myself: I sure hope they sign my check.)

On Monday, I called Phil's for the third time. "Hi, this is Carol. I had the order for the thinner-than-onion-skin paper. . . " Ah yes. "Phil" connected me with Fred who is the guy in charge of Amazon orders who wishes he hadn't been out of town that fateful day.

Fred made apologies and explanations in a charming New York accent. Apparently they are a very small, old-fashioned company; they sell paper; they don't know much about these modern internet things. . . Ordinarily, Fred explained, they would have just sent me a replacement shipment of the paper themselves, but Janet had been willing. . . No matter, they'd send the paper to me themselves this time.

After all the hassle, I wanted to make sure that I was getting paper I could actually use so I described why I wanted it.

"I have these friends in China to write to. I bought vintage air mail envelopes and wanted onion skin paper, but this was the closest I could find. Will it work?"
"Oh yeah, oh yeah. It'll do great. It'll hold the ink, and it won't tear. It'll do great. Did you know it's green?"
"It's green? No, I didn't know that. What kind of green is it?"
"Oh, kind of light green. I'd say it's kinda pistachio colored. Hey Bill, what color would you say that paper is? . . . . Oh yeah, yeah. Bill's says it's like mint-chocolate chip ice cream without the chocolate chips."

We were just confirming my real shipping address when all of a sudden the line went dead. I sat with the phone in my hand for a couple minutes, trying to decide if I should call them back or wait when it rang:

"Hey, Carol. This is Fred from Phil's. I'm sorry. I dropped the phone. We're a great company!" Fred promised that he would ship the paper the next day, and I began to check CPO hopefully again.

A week passed.
And then another week.
Four weeks passed and still no paper. (Though I did get a check to reimburse the shipping charge with "Sorry!" written in the memo line.)

I called Phil's for the fourth time a few days before Thanksgiving, nearly two months after I'd made my original order.

me: Hi, this is Carol. I had the order for the thinner-than-onion skin paper. It hasn't arrived yet. . .
Phil: It hasn't arrived yet?! Oh, I'm angry. I'm really angry now.
me: Wait, what's wrong?
Phil: Fred didn't know it when he promised to send you the paper, but the paper that was sent to Janet in Chicago was the last package of that kind of paper in America. So I called Janet. I said I'd send her $15, and she said she'd mail it to you. I figured since I hadn't heard from you, that you'd gotten it. $15 is twice what it would cost to mail the paper, and I know she has the money. The check was cashed! Oh, I'm really angry now! What's your number? I'm gonna sort this out, and I'm gonna call you!
me: Ohh, no, no. Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. Don't worry.
Phil: No! This is a big deal. This is personal now. I'm angry. I'm calling Janet after the holiday, and she'd better send you that paper. I'm angry. If you hear about a killing in the Chicago area over stationery, you know what happened!

Thanksgiving has come and passed, and then most of December, and I still haven't gotten the paper, nor have I heard from Phil's. As far as I know, no one has been murdered either.

Phil's is out one order of paper and at least $25 worth of shipping costs.
I am short $4.95.
Janet has some thin, green paper she doesn't want, and an extra $15. (I wonder how she'd feel if I gave her a call.)

In the middle of all this, my mother found a few sheets of onion skin paper in a drawer at home. I bought some 98 cent stamps, so I'm all set. I'd even have a story to tell, except I wrote it here instead.