Prime Example
While doing some Christmas shopping on Amazon (on January 2nd, because I’m a few weeks off schedule in life at the moment), a most joyous thing happened at checkout.
“Congratulations, Kiki! You’re eligible for a three month trial of Amazon Prime!”
I felt like I had won the lotto. Amazon Prime is like the coolest thing ever, except there’s no way I would ever pay for it. Basically, for $79 a year, you get free 2-day shipping on any order (even if you’re buying $1.19 Q-tips or something), and $3.99 overnight shipping if your ears really can’t wait that extra day. I only buy stuff on Amazon when I’ve reached the $25 minimum for free shipping, so to me, this was like tripping and falling into a gold mine. I could finally make spontaneous under-$25 purchases!
For a few days, Amazon Prime consumed me. I’d be out at a restaurant and daydreaming about what kinds of random stuff I could get for FREE TWO DAY SHIPPING! The possibilities were endless. A trial membership to Amazon Prime was a genius idea on the part of the Amazon marketers, because I want to blow money like I’ve never blown it before. At least the $25 minimum of the past used to force me to think for a few days before I made a purchase. Maybe I don’t really need leopard print leg warmers. Sure, an automatic Slurpee maker would be awesome, but who wants to buy C batteries? With the power of Amazon Prime, I was no longer forced to scrutinize my consumerist ways. I could just buy, buy, buy and watch the boxes come trickling in. Secondary benefit: mail!
I finally came up with an actual legitimate use for Amazon Prime. I had bought a Canon Digital-SLR Rebel XT camera from Ritz (remind me to tell you ALL about Adventures in Camera Shopping), and I had ten days to return it if I decided I didn’t want it. I hadn’t quite made up my mind, and since I’m going to Mexico tomorrow (a whole ‘nother story), on Saturday I realized I should probably buy a filter to protect its lens. The only way to get it by today would be to pay $3.99 for overnight shipping (mysterious overnight math involving weekend days versus business days), but I figured that the $3 filter, which retails for $20, was still worth $6.99. Worst case scenario, if I returned the camera, I’d only be $7 in the hole.
I placed my order and began rubbing my hands together in anticipation. A package! For me!
On the same night, I was chatting with the lovely and talented cupCAKE on instant messenger. My poor little sister was feeling chilly in her room on campus, and so I evangelized the wonders of Amazon Prime. Shiver today, get a space heater tomorrow! Similarly intrigued, cupCAKE placed the order.
When I got home tonight, I saw not one but TWO! boxes on our porch. One was smallish, the other hugeish. My filter can’t be in that huge box, I thought. Did the UPS guy accidentally leave me a computer? Score!
It turns out that cupCAKE’s space heater, which she paid $7 to ship (?) showed up in a ridiculous 2.5′ x 2.5′ x 3′ box. Worse, it came to our doorstep instead of her dorm, for some inexplicable reason having to do with either a) Amazon, or b) cupCAKE.
My filter, on the other hand, is great. It’s exactly what I wanted, and it even came to the right address. It’s a dinky little thing, and it came in a fairly large box too, so I had the added bonus of digging for buried treasure to find it. Too bad I returned the camera today.
