Yes, I'm ranting.
One of the beastly things about writing for a living is shipping the shaggin' manuscripts hither and yon. You might imagine that in an age of electronic mail and speed-of-light communications something would have replaced the dear old box o' printed word on pulp schlepped across the continent on the backs of trusty millipedes (or whatever). But, no. An occasional electronic document changes hands via Internet, but, for the most part, novels seem to remain in the land of physical humpery.
This would be less annoying if one didn't have to deal with Parcel Post and its competitors. And their cost.
Shipping a ream of paper, printed with the deathless turns of my very own prose, to England by fastest route (in this case the friendly brown planes of UPS) cost $45. Not that horrible, considering the package had to take a cross-continental flight from my place before it even got on the trans-Atlantic plane. Though when you consider that I weigh a lot more than the box and require more safety equipment and leg-room, dollar-for-dollar, the darned box should have had canapes and champagne while in flight. Better still, I should have had the champagne.
Alas, no. The manuscript most likely rode in a container with a hundred other beastly bits of paper. But it got there.
Domestically, however....
The last time the complete manuscript had to go to the East Coast, I carefully packed it in a box with its twin and a CD-ROM, then figured out how much the package weighed (12 pounds), and got online to discover the cheapest way to send it to New York that didn't cause the precious package to wander in the desert like the Lost Tribe of Papyrus. FedEx came in marginally ahead of UPS and about half the price of the (in)famous Postal Orifice... erm... uh... Post Office.
So off went the package.
A couple of days later, I needed to send a single copy of the manuscript to another location in New York, so I found another box, stuffed the stack of papers bound in a paper strip to keep it all together, into said box and carted it off to the Post Awful, since my agent has a Post Office Box and no one but the USPS is allowed to deliver anything to it. (Talk about monopolistic practices....) I had resigned myself to the fact that a Priority Mail package weighing 6 pounds was going to cost $23 dollars--more than twice what it had cost to send the 12-pound package the same distance via FedEx Ground ($9).
It was a Wednesday, so the line was moderate and I hauled the box to the counter after a mere 20 minutes in the company of a toddler whose demonstration of motor skills and boredom filled the foyer with flying Change of Address forms and shrieks that had the piercing quality of polished porcupine quills. I plopped the box onto the counter, at last, and declared its destination and accommodations (outside cabin, please, aft Sundeck).
The clerk looked at me, looked at the package, now cowering on his scale, and asked if I was sure I wanted to send this thing Priority.
Well, yes, of course I did.
He blinked at me.
"Do you see that Priority Mail display near the back of the foyer, near the door?" he asked.
"Uhhh... yeeees." I had a bad feeling.
"Go back there and get a box. The one with the red stripe on it that says 'Flat Rate Box'."
"Errr... why?"
"Because I have a feeling.... Just do it."
So, somewhat trepid about this errand, I went to the back and burrowed about in the rack of Priority Mail accouterments until I found the right box. I brought it back with me to the counter.
The clerk took the box and opened it, then squished it down onto the box I had first arrived with. It was a very close fit. "Ah-hah! As I suspected!" he declared. "It will fit. Now, unpack your box and put the contents in this box and tape it up and bring it back to me."
"W-w-why?"
"Because the Flat Rate Box is only $7.95 for whatever you can stuff in it!"
I stared at him. "When did that happen?"
"Oh, years ago."
"But, I've been sending these packages for years. How come I've never heard of that? No one's ever said anything!"
"Well, some people aren't very helpful, around here."
No shit.
Back to top of this page, please.