For close to three years now, I’ve been sporadically trolling FedEx on Twitter. There is, of course, a perfectly logical explanation.
Dec. 10, 2013 - Philadelphia - Night
The city had just been struck with a hearty snowstorm. While looking out the window of my apartment, I caught sight of a FedEx truck sliding helplessly down the street.
After a few soft bumps into some parked cars, he came to a stop, and I could immediately tell he wasn't going anywhere without some help. The driver was definitely relieved to see me, despite his rescuer being dressed in mesh shorts, boots, an oversized coat, and no gloves.
We devised a quick plan and decided that he would dig while I ran inside to get pots full of hot water to melt the slush.
After some hard work, the moment came. There was a clear path of escape. We quickly traded tools, pot for the shovel. He gave the asphalt a final splash of hot water and I frantically shoveled any remaining snow. In a fury, the driver hopped into the truck as I ran to the back to push. The triumphant engine roared, sending the FedEx truck back into the middle of the road. As if out of a movie, I waved my tearful goodbye as he yelled “THANK YOU!” out the window, charging into the blustery night.
I returned to my apartment with my shovel, my mind reeling from the bittersweet accomplishment. While I soaked in the satisfaction of helping FedEx, I was struck with a crippling realization: I'D LEFT THE POT.
I go outside, and the pot isn't there. I then realize that the driver must've taken the pot accidentally amidst the rescue. It was gone into the wintery darkness. I collect my thoughts, and like any mildly annoyed millennial, I took to Twitter.
A few days go by. I receive no acknowledgement or answer. My thought process was maybe FedEx would see the brief story and say, "Hey, here's a good guy, he helped us out. The least we could do is get him his pot back."
It started to become sickeningly clear. I wasn’t going to get my pot back.
It wasn't the lack of pot that frustrated me; it was the complete lack of interaction with me. I told my girlfriend who I was living with, "Just watch, baby! FedEx is gonna see this, and we're gonna have new pots, far as the eye can see!" Boy was I wrong. However, my pride burns like a fiery phoenix, and I was not going to give up so easily.
As time went on, my emotions flared.
They seemed to mock me.
So I mocked back.
I was beginning to lose my spark. Would my pot even recognize me anymore? Boiling water for pasta seemed like an all-too-distant past. I was giving up.
Oct. 1, 2015 - New York - Lunchtime
I rekindle an old flame.
Then out of nowhere...
Time stands still. It's happening. My pulse quickens. I cannot contain my excitement.
Dolores and I exchange emails back and forth. I share my story in as much detail as I can muster. She apologizes for the whole incident, and assures me the driver did not intentionally withhold my pot. To address the issue more directly, Dolores asks if I remember which branch of FedEx the truck was with: FedEx Ground vs FedEx Home Delivery vs FedEx Express.
I tell her I have absolutely no idea, and all I remember was the truck being white. Understandably, this doesn't give her much to go off of. It seemed as though I had reached another dead end. Or was it? I distinctly remembered that after bumping into one of the parked cars, the driver had left an official note in the windshield, which I assume will cover any damage done to parked cars from FedEx trucks.
After explaining my thought process, that maybe there is a paper trail of some sort that places a specific truck, near my address, on that very night, we'd have something to go off of. She replies saying she's sent an email to all three branches of FedEx, to see "if they recall this incident two years ago." I see that little dig, Dolores, I see it.
A few days later, I receive a voicemail. It's Michael from FedEx in Philadelphia. He very nicely explains that he's been briefed on the situation, and he's currently trying to figure out which branch of FedEx it was, and he'd keep me updated on any developments.
It's the last time I hear anything about my pot.
December 2015 to Present - New York - Always
I descend into madness.
National Hug Day?
Hello darkness my old friend.
So here we are.
This article is my final chess move. The end of the game. My last hurrah for the pot. It's been a long, hilarious, unnerving road, but it's made me a stronger person. I wanted to share my story with everyone. One day you're using a pot for the greater good, and three years later you'll find yourself wondering what it's all meant. I hope if nothing else, you've learned a thing or two.
And to my wonderful pot… please. Come home.
Jun. 28, 2016 - BuzzFeed NYC - Morning
I didn’t expect a happy ending to this tale, but a happy ending is exactly what happened. While seated at my desk, a massive FedEx package was dropped off. I opened the box, revealing a stunningly beautiful pot, a 10 piece cookware set, pasta, spoons, and more. My eyes welled up at the very sight.
However the most delightful part of this treasure trove was a letter from my sweet, sweet pot.
How long have I been gone?
Three years you say, has it really been that long?
You were so gracious, so kind, the night the FedEx driver needed help.
You said, “I don’t mind,” with a very mighty yelp.
You pulled me out of the kitchen, and into the cold and snowy night.
Using me against the Philadelphia slush that was putting up such a fight.
And just like that the FedEx driver was gone, he accidentally took me.
Your favorite pot of which you were so fond of, how could this really be?
You tried in vain to track me down, hoping #shipChrishispot would trend.
But I had already skipped town, and you weren’t sure how this story would end.
As you tried in vain to find me in tweet after tweet,
my FedEx friends sent me on a journey that was no easy feat…
I saw the pyramids of Egypt in the Middle East,
And made a quick stop at the Colosseum in Rome for a great, big pasta feast.
I traveled to Rio and the Copacabana beach,
And checked out Kuala Lumpur to see the Petronas Towers, I climbed to the top of each!
I drove past the Golden Gate Bridge,
But in reality I just wanted to be back home, in the cabinet by the fridge.
I spoke to your FedEx friend Dolores so that you would no longer have to toil.
I hope you enjoy my new found friends: these pots, FedEx gear and plenty of pasta to boil!
Your favorite pot
I’m ecstatic my pot got to see the world. It was selfish of me to think I could keep it. “If you love something, set it free.”