Thank God (or whoever you thank) for Amazon.
|The best thing that ever happened to the socially anxious|
In fact, I would say, people with mental conditions everywhere probably breathe a sigh of relieve when they realize that they don’t have to leave the house to purchase sundries. No, they can get on their best friend the computer, and order them from Amazon.
|Just please don’t make me have to sign for them|
Two short days later, after avoiding the UPS driver (who comes right to the door – ugh!) there they are – whatever you ordered, Just open the door a crack, look to the left and right and snatch them inside to your own cocoon for enjoyment or necessity.
I don’t think Jeff Bezos ever thought (or thinks now) that legions of agoraphobic would sing his praises or rejoice in his birth. But it is because of Jeff and his wonderful Amazon that when we don’t feel like braving mingling with the People of Wal-Mart . . . we don’t have to.
I remember when Amazon pretty much sold only books. Progress can be a wonderful thing.
Imagine the horror of having to go to a store to choose a piece of hardware, say, just that screw and bolt of a certain size and then you feel it creeping closer – the presence of some sales associate who is going to ask you if they can help you find something (because obviously you’re an idiot who knows nothing of tools).
|So. . . you have no idea what you’re looking for, right Mister Man?|
Of course, they’re only doing their job but at the store, as in so many places, I just want to be left to grope blindly in sweating, panicky peace until, like some blind squirrel, I stumble upon the right size, shape, brand of whatever it is I was looking for.
Now you can browse in the sanctuary of your own living room until you are absolutely sure that THAT particular widget/lamp/sack of briefs is what you want. No rush, no intrusive salespeople, no feeling that the whole aisle is wondering if you’re equal parts daft or stupid.
Ordering UNDERPANTS (yes, I said it) by mail is a first for me. I got tired of wandering through the shambling piles of tossed around UNDERPANTS packages at Wal-Mart looking like some scavenger on a quest. Someone nearby must think I get off on fondling so many packages of UNDERPANTS looking for the right size – like squeezing Charmin only with a hint of perversion. I am equally tired of going to the UNDERPANTS display at Costco to find, like most other articles of clothing at Costco, they don’t cater to fatties.
|UNDERPANTS! Yes, these.|
But on Amazon there is no shame. No sideways glances, no accusatory looks from cashiers. Amazon doesn’t judge. And I, for my part, utter a silent and heartfelt shut up and take my money.
And, by chance, if the order is wrong, Amazon, in their compassion for us, makes it ridiculously easy to return the merchandise. Just stick the label on and leave it on the porch. It disappears and the money returns magically to my account. No need to stand in front of a harried, gum-snapping judgmental pimply faced kid who will hold your UNDERPANTS aloft asking the entire room ‘and what is the reason for this return?’
The UNDERPANTS will arrive tomorrow. Probably in a box that’s six times the size of the plastic package (the neighbors will think it’s a new toaster oven – splendid bit of subterfuge Jeff!).
|The neighbors will never suspect!|
So today, UNDERPANTS, tomorrow slacks, the day after tomorrow, we’ll see.
I do not begrudge Jeff Bezos his billions. For he hath liberated all the socially anxious people to fulfill their fondest desires without the messiness of human interaction. We can buy UNDERPANTS by mail without shame.
And I am grateful.
|Thank you Amazon!|