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Lost and Found
Saturday started out like any other travel day; slog down to the airport, park, check in, get luggage tagged, have luggage irradiated for my safety, have self irradiated for other’s safety, get on plane, place the metal fitting into the buckle, put seat back in upright and locked position, note that the nearest exit might be behind me, sit down, shut up, and FLY!
Except for the sudden and frightening gust of wind shear that nearly caused our regional jet to crash into some trees on our first landing attempt, everything was still pretty much routine. The go around and second attempt at landing was successful. My connecting flight to Houston was delayed, but that’s pretty much routine too.
Landing in Houston, the routine continued. My luggage failed to make the trip with me. Not a huge problem, this happens quite often in fact. I walked over to the baggage office, filled out the claim, and was assured my errant bag would make it on the next flight to Houston, scheduled for later that night.
I asked the manager at the front desk to call me when my vacationing luggage showed up, no matter what time. The biggest problem with losing a bag on the WWE tour is if the bag doesn’t arrive that night, it very well could chase you through two or three cities. However, in my extensive experience, most times lost luggage shows up the same day -albeit usually around 3 AM – so it normally isn’t a problem.
I woke up early the next morning and realized the front desk had never called. Shit. I called the 800 number Delta provided and after a lengthy pause was connected to very Indian sounding man suspiciously named ‘Bob.’
Outsourced Bob: ‘Hello sir! My name is Bob. How are you doing today?’
Me: ‘Fine. How are you?’
OB: I am very well sir, thank you for asking.’
Me, after awkward pause: ‘Uhh, OK, great. Well Bob, I am trying to find my lost luggage.’
Outsourced Indian ‘Bob’ then put me on hold, and when he came back I swear I could hear sitar music in the background.
OB: ‘OK sir, the last flight from Atlanta was delayed very late last night, sir, so your bag didn’t make it. It should be in Houston by 11 AM. I am very sorry sir.’
Well, if a plane is delayed, doesn’t that give them MORE time to put a lost bag aboard? But no matter, as long as the bag makes it to Houston before I leave Houston, everything will be fine. I gave ‘Bob’ the arena address and told him to have the delivery guy drop the bag at the WWE production office. My final request to ‘Outsourced Bob’ was to have them put a rush deliver on the bag.
The day progressed as normal Pay-Per-View days do, except for me wearing the same clothes as the night before. Periodically, I checked in the production office to see if my wandering suitcase had decided to show up. NOPE!
By 7 PM I was starting to get a little antsy. I tried Delta’s Lost Bag Division again. The helpful recording said my bag was in Houston and should be there no problem getting it delivered sometime ‘in the next twelve hours.‘ WRONG! Problem number one: Houston covers almost 600 square miles, and I was fairly sure mine wasn’t the only lost bag they would have to deliver. Problem number two: The Pay Per View had already started, and we’d be departing for Corpus Christi in less than five hours.
After the worthless recording ended, I stayed on the line to talk to a human, hopefully not my Indian friend ‘Bob.’
This time I got Amy, a cheerful sounding woman with a thick, syrupy Southern accent. I explained my problem to her, and she said she’d call the baggage delivery company directly to get an update.
Amy came back on the line after five minutes and said, ‘Sir, aah’m sorry, that number is busy. But you know what aah’m gonna do? Aaah’m not supposed to do this, but I’ll give y’all the number, maybe y’all have better luck with them.’
I called the baggage delivery people, and after a few attempts, actually got through.
‘Baggage Delivery Company. This is Tammy, how can I help you?’
‘At this point, I’m not sure. My bag is lost, supposedly your company has it, and I am leaving Houston in a few hours. Can you help me?’
A lengthy back and forth ensued where I learn from Tammy that my bag was indeed in Houston, safely sitting in their warehouse. Been there for most of the day in fact. I also learned that the airlines pay delivery companies exactly $6 per bag, which is why the delivery company didn’t seem to give a shit about getting me my bag at all. Further, Delta never put a rush delivery order on the bag, and created even more confusion when ‘Outsourced Bob’ entered the incorrect instruction ‘Deliver to Production House at Toyota Center’ rather than Production OFFICE. Thank you very much Jagadeep, err.. I mean ‘Boob.’
Not sure what or where the Production House might be, and with a paltry $6 on the line, the delivery company did the next most logical thing. They left the bag in the warehouse to deal with later, and delivered everyone else’s bag all over Houston’s 600 square miles instead. GREAT!
Tammy told me that there was one driver that could still bring my bag possibly in time, but since he was new, she wasn’t sure he would or could get it there before our bus left the Toyota Center. She said she would call me back as soon as she knew if the delivery would be possible.
Oh wonderful. So I waited, and an hour later Tammy actually called me back. To Tammy’s credit, she was the most helpful person I’d dealt with all day. I still was losing faith though, because the show was nearly over, and the buses would be rolling to Corpus Christi in less than two hours, and we didn’t have much progress thus far.
‘Hi, well, I have good news. The driver can deliver your bag, but he has to make one other delivery before yours. He can be there in three hours.”
THREE HOURS! FUCK! I could just see this same story replaying itself over the next three days as my poor bag traveled around trying to reconnect with the tour.
‘Please Tammy, is there ANYTHING else you can do? I will be long gone in three hours. Maybe you could put my bag in a cab and send it down right away. Anything! Pleeeeaseee??’
She paused a minute then stammered, ‘Well…. I can’t get a cab, but… I could… err… bring it down myself I guess.’
‘PERFECT! I appreciate it Tammy!’
With the way the rest of the day had unfolded, I had a hard time believing that the receptionist would take matters into her own hands like this. And if Tammy actually made the huge effort, I could just picture her showing up at 11:30 on a Sunday night, finding out our bus had left a half hour before and unceremoniously throwing my bag in a dumpster.
Wonder of wonders, twenty minutes later I got a call on my cell phone. Saint Tammy had done it! She’d driven my bag from their warehouse to the Toyota Center in her personal car and hand delivered it to me on the sidewalk, instantly restoring – if only for a brief while – my faith in humanity. And saving the WWE tour from the dreaded ‘Three-Day-Old Underwear Syndrome.’
Thank you, Saint Tammy!!
Author: frenchy
3 Responses to “Lost and Found”
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It’s because her name was Tammy 😉 We are all saints, lol!
You’ll know what to expect next time you talk to an outsourced customer service!! glad your bag made it finally.
Now that’s customer service. Saint Tammy could teach those guys at Fujitsu a lesson or two.