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And they tell you that if you want to get your package, you have to go to the depot place downtown that’s tucked away in some little godforsaken corner of the city you live in, that you’ve probably never even seen or driven by because it’s so completely off the beaten path that you’re not even sure it exists, what do you do? Do you trust them? The package might be your new iPhone, but your skepticism builds, because you’re not really sure they even tried to drop it off to you at all, and their “we tried, really we did” notice doesn’t even say your name on it, it just says your apartment number, and you’re like “you know, my roommate gets a lot more packages than I do, I could have really used the clarification,” and they don’t answer because you didn’t really say that, you said nothing, because you’re just sitting at your computer typing, about to walk into unfamiliar territory with nothing but a pair of your mother’s sunglasses from the mid to late 1980s and the desire to start using your new phone as soon as possible.
I’ll either be right back, or I’m about to be murdered.
UPDATE: IT WAS NOT MY IPHONE. But I didn’t die, so.