Dave Just Wants His Wine Back

 So early on in Covid, I had bought tickets for "Hamilton" for our entire family, and we were set to go -- April of 2020. And then, alas, the lockdowns came and our competent but not attractive mayor Daniella Levine Cava told us to avoid gathering in large groups.

I contacted the Arsht Center to get a refund of the tickets --about $2K for the 6 of them, as I recall, and was told that the show was still going on. What? How could that be? We're told to avoid superspreader events, and the Arsht Center was, per the direction of the Director, who was a copy of the gay dog owners in "Best in Show," going ahead?

No -- I wanted my money back. Too bad, I was told -- the performance was indeed taking place.

The press has little power these days, but I figured I'd give them a try, and so reached out to a reporter I had met, Doug Hanks, to tell him my plight. Sure enough, he thought it made a good story, as there must be thousands who this precious little dictator was causing to either go against Covid protocol or lose their money, and Doug wrote it.

It worked! The guy relented, and offered full refunds. And the article had a single, pithy sentence: "Dave just wants his money back."

For reasons I still don't entirely understand, my son in law Jonathan and his brother Dan found that hilarious. I guess because it makes me sound like the cranky old Jewish guy I am -- but for whatever reason, it became a family catchphrase. When anyone is being refused a refund, or service, the family says "Dave wants his money back." Maybe you had to be there...

But I thought about it today, as I am now in week THREE of attempting to receive a case of wine from Stag's Leap. I've ordered many times before, with no issue -- FedEx or UPS tells me when the delivery is set, I leave the gates open, and they leave the heavy box under our overhang.

This time, though, they attempted delivery while Wifey and I were in Vero Beach, and the text said it was signed for -- by someone I didn't know!

Oh crap, I thought -- a porch pirate with a decent taste for wine has purloined my 12 bottles. I set about emailing and texting Stag's Leap and FedEx, and finally got the answer: the person who signed for it was Stag's Leap's warehouse manager on the East Coast -- the box had a bunch of broken bottles!

Ok, I thought, no issue -- they'll just re-sent the vino, and they did. It was due in today, per FedEx, by "the end of the day," and so I left open the gates, and made it my day's errand. Around 2, I took a nap, and told Wifey to listen for a door knock, kind of figuring she probably wouldn't notice.

Sure enough, I awoke from my nap to hear a truck driving away, as I got the dreaded text: "We tried to deliver your package, but no one was home!" I added the exclamation point. They said they would try again tomorrow, but I'm not going to be home, and zero chance Wifey hears them when they return.

So I dropped myself into the maw of FedEx customer service, and finally an heavily accented woman got on the line. Would I like to arrange to have the wine left at a drop off point? Where? My very own Walgreens, it turns out! So I said that would be fine, even though the box is rather heavy...

We'll see if this takes place. I wrote passive-aggressively to Stag's Leap to tell them that given all this trouble, they ought to gift me a couple of bottles of something. They certainly don't owe me, but indeed as Jonathan and Daniel have noted, I HAVE become that cranky old Jewish guy.

If no gift vino -- no more online ordering. I can get equivalent stuff cheaper at Total Wine -- and don't have the hassle of delivery issues.

Dave just wants his wine back.