- On December 10, 2013, FedEx mistakenly
took my cooking pot in the dead of night,
and for three years, I tried to get that pot back.
This is that story.
I guess our tale begins in Philadelphia
where I was living with my girlfriend at the time,
and Philadelphia had just been hit
with a really hardy snowstorm.
I'm talkin', eight plus inches
of that real cold powdery stuff.
I'm in my apartment, just watching TV,
and I just happen to glance out the window
and catch sight of this FedEx truck
just sliding helplessly down the street.
Not like careening out of control, leaving this trail
of destruction in it's wake.
If anything, it was actually pretty graceful.
After a few soft bumps into some parked cars
on it's way down, it just came
to a complete stop at the bottom of the hill.
Now, if I had just turned back towards the TV,
pretended like I didn't just see that happen,
I wouldn't even be sitting here telling this story.
But that is not how I get down.
You know your boy grabbed his boots, threw his coat on,
grabbed the one shovel that I owned,
and headed outside to play rescuer.
So I'm outside, and I find the driver already trying
to push the truck out of the snow.
Obviously, he's really, really relived to see me,
and we devise a really quick game plan.
So, we decide that I should hand him the shovel
while I run back and forth to my apartment to get pots
(alarm beeping)
of hot water that I can pour in front of the tires
to melt the slush and melt the ice.
We go about this process for maybe five, ten minutes or so,
and it starts to look like we're gonna have
a really good shot of getting out of here.
So, we trade tools really quick,
and I've got the shovel now,
and I'm just digging like a madman in front
of the tires to clear as much snow away as I can.
And slowly but surely, this truck just makes it's way out
of the snowbank and back out onto the road.
As the truck is free now, driving off into the night,
I actually hear the driver yell thank you out the window.
I'm gonna be honest, I felt pretty damn good about myself.
It feels good to help people.
So, I walk back into the apartment,
kick my boots off, hang my coat up,
I'm feelin' like a million bucks, and then it hits me.
My pot.
I probably left it outside, I'll just go get it.
I go outside, it isn't there, which is impossible.
Some random person walking by in the middle
of the night during a blizzard isn't going
to see a pot on the ground and just take it.
Oh, no. The driver.
The driver must have mistakenly taken the pot.
Traded tools really quick.
Shit.
So, like any mildly annoyed millennial, I went to Titter.
In the midst of helping a FedEx delivery man
get his truck out of the snow, I think he accidentally
took the cooking pot I gave him.
We were using it for hot water to melt the ice.
It'd be great if you could ship it back to me somehow.
Obviously, I'm not expecting the second I Tweet this FedEx
to come knocking at my door saying,
hey, how can we fix this situation, but there was nothing.
Zero acknowledgment.
This is not a joke.
I'd like to have pasta but I can't because you have my pot.
Me again, I hoped for a little more concern
since I helped you out, and now you won't return the favor.
#shipchrishispot
I remember trying to explain to my girlfriend,
just look baby, this is gonna be fine.
FedEx is gonna see this story and we're gonna have pots
far as the eye can see.
Wrong. So, so incorrect.
That's when it really started to sink in,
I was never gonna see this pot ever again.
Before we go any further, I feel like we should
take a moment to address some questions
that I'm sure you have, like, who are you,
what is your problem, why are you doing this?
Listen, I get it.
I know all of this sounds insane.
I just needed resolution, and I didn't know
what that resolution looked like,
but I needed some sort of closure.
Cut to two years later, yes, two years later.
I now live in New York, and I tried rekindling an old flame.
Hey FedEx, remember when you stole my pasta pot
after I helped one of your trucks out of the snow?
Hope all is well.
Now internally, I'm just like, haha, this is funny
to just bring up after two years.
All my friends are very aware of this ongoing saga
between me and FedEx, and then look the fuck out.
Hi, this is Dolores.
I would like to investigate.
What?
Time is literally standing still,
what the fuck is happening?
Two years after this story began,
and now we're getting somewhere.
I say, Dolores, you better believe
I'm gonna email you such a story.
It's a story of kindness, betrayal, and ideally, redemption.
We send some emails back and forth,
and I try to remember as many details as I can.
She's very, very nice and apologizes
for the entire incident, and then in order
to help me a little better, she asks if I remember
if the truck was FedEx Ground,
FedEx Express, or FedEx Home Delivery.
No!
Obviously I don't remember what type of truck it was.
I tell her I remember it was a white truck,
which understandably gives her
absolutely nothing to go off of.
So Dolores tells me she's gonna reach out
to the individual branches of FedEx.
"To see if anyone remembers this incident
from two years ago."
(laughing)
I see that little dig, Dolores.
You think I'm crazy.
I'm not crazy, I just want my pot back.
So maybe the next day or so, I get a voicemail
from Michael, who works at FedEx in Philadelphia.
He explains to me that he's been briefed on the situation,
and he's gonna try and figure out which branch
of FedEx it may have been, and he's gonna keep me updated
on anything he finds.
That moment was the last time I'd hear anything
about my pot.
December of 2015 turns into the spring of 2016,
and I pretty much just descend into madness.
Basically, any time I saw an opportunity
to mess with FedEx on Twitter, I just took it.
If they Tweeted, happy New Year,
I would Tweet a picture of a pot at them
wearing, like, a party hat and has confetti.
If they Tweeted something like, hope everyone's having
a great vacation, I would Tweet a picture
of a pot on the beach with sunscreen at them.
At the time, it was funny, but I'm not proud of that stuff.
I was just incredibly frustrated.
So, on June 25, 2016, I decided
to publish a Buzzfeed article that chronicled
this entire journey I've had with FedEx,
and basically left it open ended.
Almost immediately, I had people reaching out to me.
My dad works for FedEx, he wants to help you,
or I work for FedEx, and I wanna make sure
you get a new pot, all sorts of crazy stuff.
Three days later, after publishing that article,
my life changed forever.
I'm sitting at my desk, and this massive FedEx package
is dropped off.
A whole crowd gathers around,
it's full of a stainless steel cookware set,
there was spoons, there was pasta,
but then at the bottom, there was this
giant, gleaming, brand-spanking-new pot.
Obviously, that's all insane, and I couldn't have been
more pleasantly surprised, but the real icing
on the cake, was a letter from my pot.
Dear Chris, how long have I been gone?
Three years, you say, has it really been that long?
You were so gracious, so kind
the night the FedEx driver needed help.
You said, "I don't mind!" with a very mighty yelp.
You pulled me out of the kitchen,
and just like that the FedEx driver was gone.
He accidentally took me.
Your favorite pot, of which you were so fond of.
How could this really be?
You tried in vain.
My FedEx friends sent me on a journey that was no easy feat.
I saw the pyramids of Egypt in the Middle East,
and made a quick stop at the Colosseum in Rome
for a great big pasta feast.
I traveled past the Golden Gate bridge,
but in reality I just wanted
to be back home, in the cabinet by fridge.
I spoke to your FedEx friend Dolores,
so that you would no longer have to toil.
I hope you enjoy my newfound friends,
these pots, FedEx gear, and plenty of pasta to boil.
Sincerely, your favorite pot.
I mean.
(laughing)
I legitimately almost teared up.
I know that's dumb to be emotional
about something so silly, but I had been
completely one-upped in the most perfect way.
My pot got to see the world, and it was selfish
of me to think I could keep it.
If you love something, set it free.
And as for FedEx and I?
Things are better than ever.
(upbeat music)