This actually took place four years ago when I was pregnant with My Masterpiece. In honor of the hottest summer since dinosaurs roamed the earth, I thought I’d share my favorite summer memory EVER, the time I mailed dead fish.
One of My Chemical Romance’s hobbies is keeping and maintaining his freshwater aquarium. When we lived in Arizona, he had a big hexagonal tank on which he spent a lot of time and money because that’s his
way of emoting hobby. So one day when he was traveling to San Diego for work, he bought some new fish at a fancy fish store and brought them home.
Three or four of the fish died the first day. Because the fish store in San Diego had a 24-hour guarantee on all fish, he called to report the dead fish and ask for a refund. The sales associate told him to return to the store with the fish. My Chemical Romance explained that we lived three hours away so he couldn’t. The sales associate then told him that because he’d traveled with the fish — three hours! in the summer! for shame! – the guarantee was null and void. My Chemical Romance hung up.
Disgusted by this obvious miscarriage of justice, I called the store back and spoke with another associate. I explained the situation. The associate gave me the same explanation about traveling and not being able to prove the fish were dead, so I asked to speak to a manager. Our conversation went like this:
Manager: “No blah blah can’t prove they’re dead blah blah”
Me: “I will send you a picture of the dead fish with today’s newspaper. That will prove they died within your 24 hours.”
Manager: “No yada yada yada traveled three hours blah blah”
Me: “In a CAR, dude. With the AIR CONDITIONING on. My husband survived the trip; the fish should have too! But regardless of the trip, your guarantee says nothing about TRAVELING WITH THE FISH. Do you expect every buyer to live at your store permanently???? Is a trip back home not allowed? If there’s traffic in San Diego and I’m driving from Chula Vista to North County, it could easily take two hours.”
Manager: Pause. Checkmate, jerkoff. ”You cannot prove the fish are dead.”
Me: I got him on the traveling thing. ”What if I could prove it?”
Manager: SNORT, “How, like mailing them back?” Another snort.
Me: “You did not just SNORT at me. Do you know that I am seven months pregnant with my fourth child and we live in Arizona? And it’s AUGUST. Are you freaking KIDDING me, fish store manager? I am a stay at home mom with nothing better to do and I pay no attention to finances; I WILL TOTALLY SEND YOU BACK THOSE FISH!” Click.
Immediately I wrapped the dead fish in about eight plastic bags. Then I rolled an entire package of tin foil around them. And then I mailed them, and I had USPS send email notification to the store to expect the package on a Monday. That’s right, store manager: the fish traveled over the weekend. In the summer.
Three weeks later we received a check in the mail from the fish store, for the price of the dead fish. Had the manager rubbed the check all over his sweaty hairy ass before mailing it? Probably. But I deposited it anyway, and counting the mailing fees, I figure we made about $5.
And this is why you should not mess with a pregnant woman in the summer.