Chapter Text
Will was having a gods awful morning.
In fact, that was an understatement. Not only had his alarm not gone off, its batteries having decided to kick the bucket sometime last night, but he had been late for his anatomy class resulting in a lecture in tardiness from his professor in front of his peers. Then the train line had gone down forcing him to spend his limited money on an uber to get home, and then, because the universe hated him, his package that he’d spent all day looking forward to hadn’t arrived.
He’d received the message that morning that it was ‘on route’.
And at 2:52pm, the online tracking had been marked as delivered.
Yet his mailbox of his apartment complex was empty and so too was his doorstep.
So where was his pre-ordered ‘The Tortured Poets Department’ vinyl? Will had grand plans to listen to the album for the first time over a glass of wine and mope about the disaster that was his week, month, year…
Look, moving from Texas to New York for med school had been a decision he’d spent his childhood looking forward to. He’d been planning his life, his career, out for years but when it finally came to fruition, it fell short.
His dream had never included his shithole of an apartment with its water-damaged walls that he couldn’t even paint over thanks to his rental agreement. It didn’t include the commute to classes or how hard it was to get an internship or volunteering role at the local hospital - not when there were other students with far more experience or greater qualifications.
But alas, he was determined to see it out, held afloat by his endless playlists of Taylor Swift music, composed for any situation. Now how was he supposed to cope?
So there Will was, calling Hermes Express at 3pm after a long and miserable day, waiting for the dial tone to make way to the friendly tones of their customer service.
“Hello, you’ve called Hermes Express, this is Hazel speaking!” A warm voice says after a moment.
“Hi, Hazel! This is Will,” Will might be frustrated but his Ma had raised him to be polite and he wasn’t going to let her down, “I’m calling about a lost parcel.”
“Lost you say? That’s terrible.” She sounded genuinely sympathetic, “I’ll do my best to help you out, do you have the tracking number?”
Will pulled his phone away from his ear, hastily navigating to the text he’d received earlier that day with the tracking number attached.
“Umm yeah its… HE11-S01ANG3L0” Will read off the screen, to which Hazel repeated it back to him. When Will confirmed the information was indeed correct, Hazel said, “Looks like your parcel has been delivered, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“Well, I know it says it's been delivered but it actually wasn’t. It never arrived.” Will explained patiently.
“Oh, well that’s odd. Unfortunately, not much can be done about that one…”
“What do you mean nothing can be done? I need that parcel!” Will’s frustration was returning in full force.
“Well, our systems claim that the parcel was in fact delivered so it's out of our hands now.” Hazel said
“But it's still in your hands! It’s very likely still in your warehouse or something, clearly y’all have made a mistake.”
“If you’d like I can put you in touch with our Warehouse Supervisor, she might have some more information for you.”
“That would be great, Hazel.”
A clicking sound came through the phone before an electronic voice informed him, “You are being transferred to our Hermes Express: Warehouse Department, please wait for assistance.”
Will sighed, taking the opportunity to fill a glass of water and take a punnet of strawberries out of his dingy fridge for a snack. Gods why had he thought this would be easy?
Will was the kind of person who enjoyed phone calls and meeting people, but not after a long day.
“This is Hermes Express Warehouse, Hylla speaking.” A female voice said, a harsher tone to the gentle voice of Hazel.
“Umm hi, my parcel never arrived and Hazel from umm, reception, she transferred me to you.”
“I need your tracking number.” Hylla said sharply.
Will read the tracking details out again, triple checking he had all the digits and letters correct.
The worker muttered something that sounded distinctly like “Ugh men. ” into the receiver before she said, “Your parcel has been delivered.”
“Yeah I know it says that but it wasn’t actually delivered.” Will really tried to remain friendly, “Like it never arrived.”
“Yeah okay, but the delivery driver marked it as ‘delivered’ so it was ‘delivered’.” She said as if speaking to a two year old.
“But it wasn’t.” Will ground out.
“I can’t help you. It’s not in the warehouse, it was clearly dispatched and delivered .”
“Can I speak to the delivery driver perhaps? Maybe it was sent to the wrong address.”
She read Will’s address back out to him, “Is that you? It said to ‘leave in apartment mailboxes or at the door if too large’”
“Umm yeah.”
“Then there’s no need to speak to the driver. Jason’s still out on a delivery run anyway.” She said matter-of-factly, “If you’d like us to start an investigation, you’ll need to leave a complaint with our Complaints Department.”
Okay, so he was finally getting somewhere. If he left a complaint then his missing parcel case would be moved to the top of the pile as a priority.
“Okay yeah, I’ll do that.” Will resolved, “Can you put me through to them?”
“Sure.” Hylla said, then after a long pause, “Good luck.”
Again, that clicking sound came through the phone before that electronic voice informed him, “You are being transferred to our Hermes Express: Complaints and Feedback Department, please wait for assistance.”
The phone dialled for what felt like an eternity but at least Will was hopeful he’d be able to get this mess sorted.
Eventually, a click sounded and a rich, masculine voice spoke, “This is Customer Service: Complaints Department.”
The voice had a slight accent and Will didn’t know if it was possible to crush on a voice alone but holy shit it gave him tingles.
“Did you have a complaint?” The voice prompted.
Shit. Will clambered to respond, “Umm hi, this is Will. I had a missing parcel, I’d like to put in a complaint so an investigation is umm...launched.”
“Do you have a tracking number?”
For the third time, Will rattled off the string of letters and numbers idly wondering how long it would take for them to be ingrained in his brain permanently.
“Your parcel was delivered.” The man said, unimpressed.
Will was about to bash his head against his countertop, “Yes, I know it says that but it wasn’t actually delivered.”
“Right, but it says it was.” Oh Will hated this guy already.
“But. It. Wasn’t.”
Will liked to consider himself a friendly, optimistic and kind person, but Phone Boy was really pushing his buttons.
The guy on the other end of the line remained silent, not even the clacking of his keyboard picking up on the mic.
“So…I’d like to make a complaint” Will prompted when he never spoke.
“About your parcel being delivered?”
Will’s grip on his phone became white-knuckled, “What? No!”
“So you don’t want to submit a complaint?”
For fucks sake. “I want to submit a complaint.”
“Okay, we can do that.” Thank the Gods, “Is it okay if I put you on hold for a moment to set you up?”
“Sure no worries.” Will’s relief was palpable, he was one step closer to listening to ‘The Tortured Poets Department’.
The hold music was nothing special, typical elevator music that numbed your brain to the passage of time. 30 seconds passed.
One minute.
Five minutes.
How long did it take to prepare to submit a complaint?
Eight minutes apparently. “Ok, so I just need some information from you.” The voice said, bored and uninterested. “Name?”
“Will Solace.”
“And you are complaining about which of the following: customer service, speed of order delivery, damage of or to your parcel prior to delivery, or parcel was not delivered?”
“My parcel wasn’t delivered.” Will sighed, returning his strawberry punnet to the fridge and flopping down on his couch.
There was the sound of typing and then, “But your parcel was delivered.”
Will was internally screaming, and with a lot of profanities at that.
“No. It. Wasn’t.”
“I’m afraid I can’t submit a complaint regarding a parcel not being delivered when it says right here in the system that it has, in fact, been delivered.” Phone Boy didn’t sound remotely apologetic.
“Look, I’ve had a shitty day. My alarm died, my professor yelled at me in front of my whole cohort, the train line went down and my dinners for the next week will probably be two minute noodles ‘cause I spent my funds on an uber ride. And now, after that long day I can’t even listen to Taylor Swift’s new album because it didn’t get delivered!” Will ranted into the phone, running a hand through his hair, frustratedly tugging at his roots.
“Hold on, you’re complaining to us because your Taylor Swift vinyl didn’t arrive?” Incredulousness painted his tone, flushing Will’s cheeks red.
But Will said firmly, “Yes. I’m feelin’ tore up, and I had planned to cheer myself up with a glass of wine and the new album.”
“Isn’t it out on Spotify?”
Will saw red, burning, smouldering, hot red. “Yes, but I want to listen to it on vinyl. I’ve done it for every other album, and I don’t want to change that - it would ruin the experience.”
“I’m gonna put you on hold now” Phone Boy said without warning.
“What, no! Wait-”
Too late. The music was different this time and Will jolted when Taylor’s voice came through the phone.
I was supposed to be sent away
But they forgot to come and get me
I was a functioning alcoholic
'Til nobody noticed my new -
Will’s eyes widened, the song was unfamiliar…new.
“Shit. No no no-” Will hung up the phone, unwilling to have the album spoiled for him any further.
His apartment went quiet. Will realised that he had got absolutely nothing solved; his parcel was still lost, he was even more frustrated, and some guy in the Complaints Department was having a good laugh at him - the little shithead.
No, that simply wouldn’t do.
He may have been raised a polite young man, but Will was stubborn as a mule.
And he ain’t gonna let this one slide.