Browser Shopping and Surprise Bounties

(image taken from The Guardian)

(image taken from The Prodigal Guide)

Occasionally, when taking a brief pause from my diligent and deliberate work at the office, a mental respite as my body remains, hunched before my laptop in my cubicle, I peruse various online shops. Generally, I am enticed by the frequent and generous online sales of certain tried and true franchises, stores where I not only understand the intimate details of sizing, but also, more importantly, the quality of construction and the propensity to push polyester and other such unspeakably unpleasant synthetic fabrics. As a busy, though typically unimportant, businesswoman, the benefits of convenience associated with shopping online, between teleconferences, during the second coffee break, cannot be denied or argued. The proverbial killing of the multiple birds, hummingbirds, if agile and quick, soaring falcons, if grand and mighty, with the single hurl of a stone. I do not have to travel in my car, risk being pummeled by an errant driver who runs a red light, wanton, without a single regard for another breathing creature, I do not have to tolerate throngs of mall dwellers, gleaning the sale racks, pores oozing cinnamon and grease aftershocks from the deep fried glories of the food court. And, of course, in these days of intermingling consumerist and technological modernity, I am able to reap the reward of the online exclusive sale, with free shipping.

Free shipping. A beautiful, almost divine thing. That is, until the fine print emerges, faded and enigmatic, as though etched in some palimpsest eons ago: seven to nine business days. The excitement of smart, and impulsive, shopping subdues, replaced with something numb, clinical. Nine business days is an eternity, for consumer relying on the calming narcotics of instant gratification. Numbness is then overcome by memory loss. The purchase, the transient monetary transaction, merchandise not yet in hand, out in some place of postal limbo, never happened. And then the beautiful surprise, as most recently happened for me this past Tuesday, when a plain brown box arrives, items waiting to be donned and tested for fitting.

This time I am doubly surprised; one of my sweaters purchased has a predominance of acrylic, though the blend is balanced out by some wool. Bought on sale, a true product of the perpetually stunted economy. Sigh.