This post has been in the works for a while and is part ranty-rant, part scary story, and part comedy of errors. I originally wrote it as therapy, to vent my frustrations and get everything off my chest. It has a happy ending though, so please bear with me!
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| The Gift 'Grail' in question--Picture of The Hare and Hounds, Maghull |
The Cruise
Last August (2019) my parents celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary—a monumental milestone—so my brother and I wanted to mark it appropriately. When they celebrated twenty-five years, I planned a party with family and friends; at forty years, we travelled home to see them renew their vows. My folks don’t party much anymore and travel is becoming more difficult as family and friends age, so we decided against a big party this time around. A trip seemed like the best idea.
As we live in the Pacific Northwest, a cruise to Alaska was the first thing that came to mind. It’s close to home, there were no flights for my parents, none of us had ever cruised, and none of us had been to Alaska. Perfect! Book that sucker! (An experience itself I might add, if you’ve never done it before!). However, as we wound our way through all the requirements of travelling to the US, we hit on a problem.
My mother has some health issues, and as part of her ongoing care, her doctor had requested an angiogram. The test was naturally a concern for us, but it also became a sticking point in acquiring the necessary travel insurance. When she finally got her appointment, little more than a month before the cruise, I was relieved. We could put the worry behind us and start looking forward to the trip. However, by the end of test day, our world was shattered by the news that she needed surgery—double by-pass—and she would stay in hospital until they scheduled it. The next two weeks were a blur. Amid the fear of surgery, the worry about recovery, and moments of sheer blind panic, cruise-related concerns did not even register. However, we knew there would be no vacation for my parents.
The Back-Up Plan (Plan B)
Despite everything, though, they still wanted, insisted even, that the rest of us take the cruise. However, given that their gift had gone spectacularly pear-shaped, we needed to find another one suitable for the occasion. I suggested commissioning a picture of the pub where they met and knew of a talented artist on Etsy who did architectural drawings. Several introductory messages later, it seemed a good fit, so I provided a couple of photos for reference, and off I went on the cruise.
At the end of August (three weeks in) he messaged he was beginning the sketches and asked for a deadline. As the anniversary had passed, I naively said ‘ASAP’ (total rookie mistake!). Middle of September I followed up as I had heard nothing more, only to be told that he hadn’t started on my commission at all, that he was getting busy early in the run-up to Christmas and that he doubted he would have it for me anytime soon. I asked him to confirm I would have it for Christmas, then heard nothing for another week. His response when I followed up again was to imply that I, amongst others, were chasing him up for work (!) after he took a whole weekend off. A guilt-trip. A giant hot-button for me!
Several messages followed. I saw his guilt-trip and raised him. I was
not rude, but this was probably not my finest hour. His response ‘Seems like
you’re trying to make
me feel guilty!’ (Duh, dude…!). I took a breath and a step back, explained that we had obviously had some miscommunication, asked if he could provide a definitive time line and some customer service. He could apparently do neither. A total flake! Thankful for the fact I paid him no money, I went in search of another gift or another artist.
The Back-Up to the Back-Up (Plan C?)
A different gift was a non-starter, as nothing matched the picture, so I went back on Etsy to find a new artist and eventually hit success. A more professional approach, a definitive time frame—six to eight weeks—and a confirmation that if I ordered right away (now mid-October), I would have my commission by Christmas, no problem. I happily paid my money and waited.
As we approached the eight-week mark, I followed up, you know, to be on the safe side. It was the beginning of December after all, and the picture was coming from the UK. I also asked for confirmation of the size to get framing quotes. The artist told me my picture would be ready ‘at the end of next week’ (as this was a Sunday, I wasn’t sure if that meant six days hence or thirteen—spoiler, it was neither!) and she would get back to me with the dimensions.
I never got the sizing. Christmas came and went. I was broken-hearted that we still didn’t have the gift, but with the busyness of the season did not follow up again until the beginning of January when I asked for a tracking number on the parcel. She didn’t provide one, but confirmed the work was complete, and she would send me photos of it, once back in her studio.
Ten days later… still no picture, no photos, no sizing, no tracking info—nothing! I’m seeing a pattern that concerns me (to say the least!), so I threaten to report her to Etsy. I never want to be 'that' person, but I was running out of options. At this point she sent me photos and offered me a partial refund on the picture, but honestly, I was happy to pay for the work she had done. All I wanted was a way to trace my picture, lost to the big, wide world, and couldn’t understand why she was so reticent to give it. It seemed so simple.
Finally, with no choice but to provide the number, I learned what the problem was. Despite all the confirmations, the parcel had not shipped until January 5th! Seriously…, if I put this into a work of fiction, an editor would say, ‘Nah, that’s too much. No-one would ever believe it.’
By now, it was the third week in January. The picture left the UK on January 6th, then... radio silence. I honestly believed that the picture was lost, and by this time my brother and I had paid out the equivalent of a down-payment on a small car with precisely zero gifts to show for it. The thought that, after six months, we’d have to start again, with Plan D, was freaking me out. With one gossamer thread of hope left, I contacted the post office.
The Promised Happy Ending!
A chat with Canada Post revealed that they could not help me at all (big surprise!), and that the sender would have to follow up from their end. Based on previous experience, I didn’t hold my breath. However, miracle of miracles, within two days of talking to the respective post offices, my parcel reappeared on the tracker—in Vancouver! Coincidence, you say? Another two days later, I finally had the picture in my hands. After what felt like a quest for the Holy Grail, the relief was tangible.
From this point, the story becomes almost mundane. In defense of the second flaky artist, I will say that her work was beautiful and unusual—just gorgeous. The framing handled, professionally and efficiently, by my friend, Melanie—within budget and on time (thanks, Mel!).
Finally, this past weekend my husband and I used our Leap Year bonus day to deliver this anniversary gift to two special people, who are more than worth all of this effort. Good news, they seemed to like it!
