Following the purchase of four two-hundred-twenty volt two-kilowatt PTFE-coated immersion heaters from Amazon dot com, it was brought to our attention by Bossman—who placed said order—that only one had shipped, and that in fact there were not four in stock, as listed. The remaining three were to ship at the earliest possibility, "from the factory," the seller said. China, certainly. This, understand, was a death sentence to the usual two-day delivery we are accustomed to. Impossibly, the tardy three arrived just a day or two after the one, packed in the same box softened on all verticies by rough handling and many hands.
The foam packing sheets; not quite bubble wrap, you know the stuff. Each heater was identically wrapped, but strangely consisting of on one half, the common, thinner, semi-translucent, white foam, and the other half, some kind of esoteric silver and gold foil. Soft under the glossy metallic surface to the touch, gold on one side, silver on the other. This was obviously Stuff of a more serious degree. Technological material with a higher purpose, that had found its way out of NASA, perhaps, and not precisely blanketing the sides of a million dollar satellite or lunar lander, but instead engulfing inexpensive and utterly unworthy equipment no bigger than half a golf club. This, and also the inexplicable decision to use cleanroom-yellow Kapton tape at the space-age end of the parcel, and prolific clear packing tape at the unremarkable other. The yellow kind possibly indicating its handler's static-discharge paranoia, habitual compliance with a high-temperature necessity, or subconscious color-theory reflex.
That it all quickly went in to the trashcan, that the contents of the packing material, not it, was our reason for standing at the shipping and receiving table instead of drinking coffee, that there was also the note. With our attention directed towards these facts, we very quickly almost forgot, right up until briefly before the publication of this article.
Two hand-written notes on two hand-cut pieces of paper, one of each in each of the former and latter parcels. We award credit for the attempted initiation of a pen-pal relationship, if not because such a thing is rare to be received within logistically troubled industrial equipment, then therein not once, but twice.
