Laptop in the hood
Occurred: Fall 2007

I ordered a MacBook last week. My last laptop served me faithfully for over five years. Then one day I opened up the case to dust it and accidentally cracked the motherboard. I spent a good six months in mourning and decided it was time to move on and purchase a new laptop. I didn’t own a Mac and there is a lot of Mac only software I wanted to try out. I decided to buy one online.

A few days later I received notice that my package was shipping. I had to be at work on Park Avenue the day the package was scheduled to arrive so I couldn’t be in Brooklyn to sign for it. My roommate was home but he had to leave for class at just about the same time the UPS guy would normally come. I asked my roommate to sign for the package if he could but not to worry because if he missed the delivery the package would be brought back to a holding facility a few blocks away.

I went to work that day and meticulously tracked my package from the UPS website. I hit F5 at least two hundred times. At 2:48pm I saw the package status was updated to “recipient not available for delivery.” My roommate had missed the package and I’d have to pick it up later. A few hours passed by and I was ready to leave work. I checked the package tracking one last time to see if the package had made it back to the holding center.

The status read: “Package delivered. Signed at 2:59pm by ONE Chileton.”

What was this all about? I’m very confused as to why the package was marked as undelivered and then was signed for ten minutes later. I was even more confused as to why my roommate used a fake name to sign for the package.

Four train to union, L train to Bushwick. Thirty minutes later I’m back on the block. I live in a decent neighborhood in Brooklyn. The area doesn’t have the best reputation, but I’ve never had any problems and everyone on my block is very friendly. This is not the case in all of Brooklyn. Being on the wrong street at the wrong time could mean a mugging or worse.

I get inside my apartment and I’m immediately greeted by my roommate’s sixty pound pit bull. Great dog…on his first day at the apartment he wandered up two floors and went into a random person’s kitchen. The dog started rolling around the floor trying to get the neighbor to rub his belly.

I look around the first floor and I don’t see my package. I walk downstairs to the studio and still don’t see my package. I’m a bit perturbed.

I call up my roommate and ask him if he had signed for the package. He tells me that he didn’t sign for any package. I start to get worried. I call up FedEx. I speak to an operator who informs me that the package has been delivered and signed for. I tell her there is no package here. She asks for the shipping address of the package.

I tell her “941 Elm Street Apt 104”.

She says, “Oh well that makes sense the package was shipped to 104 Elm Street”.

I ask, “So what about my laptop”.

She responds back with, “I’m sorry sir you’ll have to speak with Apple.”

I hang up the phone in frustration.

I consider calling Apple but I figure even if I can convince them for a refund or new laptop it will take at least a week. I Google map the address and see 104 Elm Street is in the Marcy Projects, great.

My Jim Bastard instincts kick in and I formulate a plan. I try a reverse telephone lookup on the address, no luck. I’m still dressed in a button up shirt and khakis from work. I put on my black leather coat and dress shoes. I call up a car service that uses new Lincoln continentals. Five minutes later I tell the driver my destination, “104 Elm Street”.

I arrive at the housing project. On both sides of the entire street are identical three story houses. I have the driver pull up to 104. He tells me in a broken Hindi accent that this is a bad neighborhood and I should be careful. I give him a twenty-dollar bill and tell him not to move. I walk up to the front door and ring all three bells.

A few moments later I get an angry response from an older male, “Who the hell is it, why you ringing at my door?”

I respond back, “I’m here about a mis-delivered package sir.”

I get no response. I ring the bells again, still no response.

Finally after a few minutes of bell ringing a woman responds, “What do you want?!?” 

In the most official voice I can muster up I respond, “Ma’am we’re here about a mis-delivered package can you please come downstairs.”

A few moments of silence pass and she agrees to come down.

A middle-aged woman greets me at the door, “What do you want?”

Again in very articulate and commanding voice, “Ma’am we’re here about a mis-delivered package.”

She responds back, “I got no idea what you are talking about.”

I know my laptop was in this building less then five hours ago. I refuse to believe it’s gone.

I ask, “May I please come in?”

She refuses.

I decide its time to kick it up a notch.

“Ma’am, we know the package is here. We know it was signed for at 3pm. We just want it back, no one has to get in trouble here. Do not make me us come back with a warrant.”

 I adjust my belt and shift my weight slightly so she can clearly see the towncar with blacked tinted windows idling behind me.

She thinks over the situation for a moment and mutters, “Hold on.”

She walks down the hallways and back up the stairs.

A few moments later she comes back down, “Well I think my neighbor might have signed for the package but I’m not sure.”

I can feel my laptop.

In a low but confident voice I angrily ask the woman, “Ma’am can you please send him down here, now.”

She leaves again. A few moments later I see a younger male walking down the stairs. He starts to approach the doorway. As he approaches he gets a good look at me through the locked door. He stops, turns around, and walks back up the stairs. Less then thirty seconds later he comes back down the stairs holding an unopened box from apple.

And the Bastard learns another lesson: Never underestimate the power of a well-dressed, well-spoken white man in the hood.