That's why I ordered a KitchenAid Professional 5 Plus Mixer last weekend. This model is currently on clearance on many websites and stores because KitchenAid is discontinuing the 5 plus model. I ordered mine at Carson's, where it was the only model on clearance from $480 to $260. This is an amazing deal! I can barely find refurbished mixers this cheap.
On Thursday morning, I got an email from Carson's with my mixer's tracking number. The UPS tracking site allows you to see where and when your package checks into the various destinations. It went out at 2:00 am Thursday and by 8:00 am was in Chicago "on-route for delivery." I was so excited! My boyfriend, James, mentioned that he always used to see the UPS truck on our street between 4:00 and 5:00 pm before he started his full-time job. So he decided to leave work an hour early, at 4:00 pm, to try to catch the UPS man.
Our apartment is in Lakeview, a 20-30 minute commute north from downtown. When he got home, he saw that the UPS man attempted delivery at 4:00 pm, a mere 20 minutes before James got there. The note that the UPS man left had a number to call if you want to pick-up your package at the Chicago UPS location. James called and the employee at UPS told us we could pick-up my mixer between 8:00 and 9:15 pm. So James came back to the loop, met me when I got off work, and we ate up the time by visiting the brand new city Target on State Street.
Upon closer examination of the UPS store's address, we realize it isn't 1600 Jackson, where we wrongly assumed, thinking that it would be in the loop. It was 1600 Jefferson, which is not that far, but has no good route by which to travel when you rely on public transportation. But we already committed to this venture, so we had Panera Bread for dinner and made our transfers from the Orange line south to Roosevelt and then to the Roosevelt bus going west.
From Roosevelt road, you can see the UPS trucks pulling into the long street made up of dozens of UPS buildings. And of course, the customer entrance is at the very end of the street, as far as the eye can see. Though it seemed like miles, I google mapped the place, and it was only about half a mile.
We finally reach the right building and there are 2 entrances. The one to the left is a dark grey, beaten-up door with what looked like a hand written sign above it. The entrance to the right had 2 glass double doors with a handicap ramp. Since it had no sign, we went to the left door. Immediately, you could feel the heat of the tiny room. Almost every seat was filled and all eyes went towards James and me with a strange look. Before we could make it to the counter, the employee asked us for our zip code. I said, "60657." She said to go into the other entrance.
The other entrance led to a much larger room with windows and air conditioning. It was like some kind of old, segregated, "whites only" entrance, and it made James and I very uncomfortable. This room was only for the north side zipcodes.
That aside, the employees were very nice. They originally tried to tell me that the package wouldn't be here today, but I told them that I spoke to someone on the phone. They double checked, and the employee changed his mind. The package would be there, today. It was 8:00 pm. We talked to a woman who lived on Southport and chatted about the hassles of shipping. She was waiting for shoes that she had to wear for a wedding, and her and her husband were leaving town the following day. Her husband was waiting in the car outside, after a long day of work, with a growing appetite.
At 9:15 pm, our packages finally come out. The mixer is 30 pounds and big all over, and I beg James to get a taxi but he insists on making use of our 7 day unlimited CTA passes. I brace myself for the many transfers ahead of me.
About half way down the long UPS street, the woman with the shoes passes us and waves. After a couple more stop signs, the car stops for a few seconds. Then they U-turn and pull up the curb by us. They realize that they aren't going far from where we live and offer us a ride. At that moment, I was touched by the kindness of strangers. I was so very happy.
They drop us off at Clark and Belmont and we brought my mixer into our home for the first time. As James ripped through the boxes, unloaded the mixer and the attachments and the manuals, I thought how our long night had all been worth it. We gave my mixer the name Mr. Mixer, wiped him down, cleaned the bowl and attachments, tightened some parts, loosened others, and he was ready to go. We fell asleep almost immediately when we got into bed.
And that is how Mr. Mixer got to our home, which also has a name - the Broccoli Bungalow.
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