Read Online Undeliverable by Rebecca Demarest - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Demarest
Tags: Fiction
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back, or you give up and put it into the sale.”
“I can just give up? Won’t I get in trouble for that? What if they call back two months later?”
“Meh, their loss. Obviously they haven’t been looking for it all that hard.”
“I guess.” Ben picked up the squat Santa figurine that was next in the pile. “Well, I’m going to start on this. You go do some shelving or shredding or something and then come back to double-check me?”
“Thought that’s what I was already doing.” She slipped off the edge of his desk and headed out to the bullpen. “Holler if you need me!”
Ben worked his way through the pile meticulously, double- and triple-checking before he entered it into the sale spreadsheet along with his appraisal of its value. He pulled up a couple sites dedicated to collectables once or twice, but there wasn’t anything really exciting. An hour later, he flagged down Sylvia as she trundled another cart into the warehouse.
“Okay, I think I’m pretty well set with these. Tell me if I missed something.”
Sylvia shooed him out of his seat and settled in with the trackball mouse, swiftly alternating between screens. Ben grabbed the cart and wheeled it down to the appropriate bay and started shelving. In the second tray, a green Hess truck leered up at him. He picked it up, and carried it back to his office.
“Hey, Sylvia.”
“Go away, Ben, I’m not done yet. Do some shelving, or something.” She grinned at him.
“Sure. But afterwards, do you think you could show me how that DMV database works?”
Appraisal
This takes a keen eye and a sharp mind. After years and years of practice, I can immediately tell what something is worth. And if it will sell. All those pricing catalogs are useless; the only surefire way to price things appropriately is by personal experience.
~ Gertrude Biun, Property Office Manual
T hat evening, as Sylvia hollered, “Goodbye, don’t stay long,” from the door of the warehouse, Ben pulled up the DMV database to put what she had taught him into action. He started poking around in the database settings, getting familiar with the search restrictions for car registration by color, partial license plate, make, model, state, and even county and city.
He narrowed his search to the state of Georgia: green pickup trucks, and hit the search button. There were 2,763. In the state of Georgia. It was an impossibly high number, and there was no way he could check out everyone who owned the elusive vehicle. He stared at the screen trying to decide what to do next and then narrowed it down to just the counties surrounding Savannah. There were still 1,579. Better, but still too many to try and track down just on his own. He’d have to get more specific in his search by going back and seeing if there were any other details that the eyewitnesses reported. The printer took a long time to spit out the list of fifteen hundred trucks, but he was determined to bring it home with him to see if anything aligned with the tips waiting at home.
He was just about to log off of his computer when his inbox chimed. He opened the message titled, “Your Report.”
Thank you for reporting this problem in the United States Postal Service. Employees like you help us to continually improve the working conditions and service of the USPS. A case log has been opened and you will be contacted within 4-6 weeks to resolve this matter if we find it requires our attention.
~Senior Management.
“Well, someone thinks their time is valuable,” Ben muttered to himself as he grabbed his briefcase. Bureaucracy at its finest, but if they didn’t think a safe full of missing goods was important, he wasn’t going to waste his time on it either. He shut down his computer and shoved the leftover half of a sandwich from lunch into his briefcase, crumpling a few of the Missing flyers. He pulled them out and tried to smooth them. He’d gone through quite a lot of flyers that weekend, a couple hundred at least,
“I can just give up? Won’t I get in trouble for that? What if they call back two months later?”
“Meh, their loss. Obviously they haven’t been looking for it all that hard.”
“I guess.” Ben picked up the squat Santa figurine that was next in the pile. “Well, I’m going to start on this. You go do some shelving or shredding or something and then come back to double-check me?”
“Thought that’s what I was already doing.” She slipped off the edge of his desk and headed out to the bullpen. “Holler if you need me!”
Ben worked his way through the pile meticulously, double- and triple-checking before he entered it into the sale spreadsheet along with his appraisal of its value. He pulled up a couple sites dedicated to collectables once or twice, but there wasn’t anything really exciting. An hour later, he flagged down Sylvia as she trundled another cart into the warehouse.
“Okay, I think I’m pretty well set with these. Tell me if I missed something.”
Sylvia shooed him out of his seat and settled in with the trackball mouse, swiftly alternating between screens. Ben grabbed the cart and wheeled it down to the appropriate bay and started shelving. In the second tray, a green Hess truck leered up at him. He picked it up, and carried it back to his office.
“Hey, Sylvia.”
“Go away, Ben, I’m not done yet. Do some shelving, or something.” She grinned at him.
“Sure. But afterwards, do you think you could show me how that DMV database works?”
Appraisal
This takes a keen eye and a sharp mind. After years and years of practice, I can immediately tell what something is worth. And if it will sell. All those pricing catalogs are useless; the only surefire way to price things appropriately is by personal experience.
~ Gertrude Biun, Property Office Manual
T hat evening, as Sylvia hollered, “Goodbye, don’t stay long,” from the door of the warehouse, Ben pulled up the DMV database to put what she had taught him into action. He started poking around in the database settings, getting familiar with the search restrictions for car registration by color, partial license plate, make, model, state, and even county and city.
He narrowed his search to the state of Georgia: green pickup trucks, and hit the search button. There were 2,763. In the state of Georgia. It was an impossibly high number, and there was no way he could check out everyone who owned the elusive vehicle. He stared at the screen trying to decide what to do next and then narrowed it down to just the counties surrounding Savannah. There were still 1,579. Better, but still too many to try and track down just on his own. He’d have to get more specific in his search by going back and seeing if there were any other details that the eyewitnesses reported. The printer took a long time to spit out the list of fifteen hundred trucks, but he was determined to bring it home with him to see if anything aligned with the tips waiting at home.
He was just about to log off of his computer when his inbox chimed. He opened the message titled, “Your Report.”
Thank you for reporting this problem in the United States Postal Service. Employees like you help us to continually improve the working conditions and service of the USPS. A case log has been opened and you will be contacted within 4-6 weeks to resolve this matter if we find it requires our attention.
~Senior Management.
“Well, someone thinks their time is valuable,” Ben muttered to himself as he grabbed his briefcase. Bureaucracy at its finest, but if they didn’t think a safe full of missing goods was important, he wasn’t going to waste his time on it either. He shut down his computer and shoved the leftover half of a sandwich from lunch into his briefcase, crumpling a few of the Missing flyers. He pulled them out and tried to smooth them. He’d gone through quite a lot of flyers that weekend, a couple hundred at least,
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