i posted this somewhere else, but remember the old days of mail order?
you had to buy a magazine, read an ad for something you wanted, then use those outrageous long distance charges on your land line to hopefully talk to someone about something you think you need.
then, he sends you a catalog, and you spend a while going over that, wondering if this part fits or if that part fits, and do you really need it instead of toilet paper and cat food?
finally, you bite the bullet, and mail a check.
a week later the guy gets the check, deposits it a few days later, then you both wait another week for it to clear.
check cleared (and your cat has been eating flies and wood chips, and you've been wiping your ass with newspaper, 'cause you can't spend any money till that check clears) and the guy starts putting together your order.
and mails it a week later.
since you're on one coast and the guy is fighting a freak ice storm that just socked everyone in and caused a statewide power outage, it takes a little while to get to th post office.
meanwhile, you've called him 8 times, and he called you back (at 3:30am, since it's two different time zones) and now you're pretty sure your stuff is on the way.
but there;s no tracking system, so all you've got to go on is the guy said "yeah, i freakin' mailed it on friday! i told you that 8 times already!"
monday was a holiday.
then one day, you come home from work and there's a battered box sitting on your porch where anyone who walked by could steal it, but they didn't. so you open it up like a 4 year old on christmas getting his forst tyco car set, and you're stoked, go out to your car, or your bike, or your boat, or whatever it is you're going to be working on (after you fed the cat and wiped with charmin,) and start laying out all the parts, AND THE FREAKIN' HEAD BOLTS ARE THE WRONG SIZE!
more phone calls, and the guy treats you right, gets you the bolts lickety-split, and you're happy.
but you never once tell your friends about the good customer service, you don't have anyone to complain too (except the cat, who's not listening,) and it's really just mail order business as usual.
now, UPS drives past your house on the day your computer says it shoulda stopped, and you're all over the internet, telling your invisible pen-pals how much some company sucks.
i hope the zombie apocalypse starts soon.