Hilarious Amazon Delivery Fail: Too Many Lollipops, Too Many Boxes, One Happy Cat

Can you imagine opening your bank app and seeing you’re $4,200 in the red? That’s exactly what happened to a Kentucky mom recently. Next thing you know, the Amazon delivery guy shows up with 30 boxes of Dum-Dum lollipops. That’s 69,000 tiny, cheerful sugar bombs.

Apparently, her 8-year-old adopted son, who has cognitive challenges due to fetal alcohol syndrome, had been obsessed with dreaming up neighborhood carnivals for his friends. He uses buckets and balls and gives them prizes if they win. Generous spirit? Absolutely. Solid math skills? Not quite.

Luckily, Amazon’s spokesperson, with a straight face, told TODAY.com, “We’re glad we were able to work directly with this customer to turn a sticky situation into something sweet.” 

Even better? Amazon let them keep the lollipops. And the folks at Spangler Candy, the Dum Dum makers, invited the boy to tour their candy factory in Ohio.

But you don’t have to be eight years old or obsessed with carnivals to have an Amazon delivery fail. Just ask these folks.

Alex Buscemi, author 20 Funniest Online Shopping Fails From People Who Should’ve Read The Reviews First, reports all sorts of shopping mistakes people have made such as ordering 10 foot tall lamps, a Guided Meditation for Beginners book which had blank pages with the titles Inhale and Exhale, and a doggy swimming pool the size of a big water bowl

But I can’t accuse these people of not paying attention to details. A few years ago, I threw a neighborhood bash and decided to snag some cheap napkins online. I needed 10 napkins. Somehow, I got ten packs of five. Which, mathematically, is 50 napkins, 40 more than I needed. But hey, they were only $1.50 each, and unlike lollipops, they don’t melt or attract ants. It wasn’t Amazon with their free returns, so I kept them, used some at larger gatherings, and gave some away.

And sometimes, it’s not even your error. Picture this: we’re wintering in Florida in our motorhome, minding our own business, when a van screeches to a halt in front of our tiny lot. Out hops a delivery guy, unloading box...after box...after box. I counted ten. Big ones. Filled with tablecloths. The kind you’d need if you were hosting a wedding for 500 of your closest friends.

I rushed outside yelling, “Stop! Stop! I didn’t order these!”

The guy shrugged. “Lady, it’s on the sheet. I just deliver 'em.”

I pointed to our humble 25’ x 75’ campsite with a tiny storage shed and said, “Does this look like a wedding venue to you?” He paused, looked around, and finally agreed. Crisis averted.

Meanwhile, Casey, our cat, saw those boxes and thought it was Christmas. Casey loved boxes like Oprah loved giveaways. Small, large, decorative, ugly, didn’t matter. If it was remotely box-like, Casey was inside it. He’d cram himself into Amazon cartons, dive into drawers, lounge in pizza boxes, and even snuggle into a silverware basket like it was a luxury suite at the Ritz. He once wedged himself into the headband on a lighted headlamp.

Casey inside an egg carton

For years, he also chewed the boxes. He’d nibble the edges, spit out the cardboard bits like a llama with no manners, and proudly leave the remains on the floor. YouTube assures me this is normal feline behavior, but I suspect Casey thought he was customizing his real estate. Eventually, we’d toss the mangled carcass and offer him a fresh one.

When we moved into an apartment, the tradition continued. We'd order deep-dish pizza just to get the box. (Well, and the pizza. Let's not kid ourselves.)

One Christmas, Dave bought a new golf bag in a long, skinny box; sturdy and luxurious. It was like a magic tunnel on the kitchen floor with a straight shot down the hallway to the front door. Casey would crawl in stealthily, then BLAST out like a feline cannonball, racing down the hallway with Olympic enthusiasm. I’m pretty sure he broke the sound barrier once.

Guests often notice our box collection. One friend walked in, looked around, and declared, “I know you have a cat.” She hadn’t seen the cat. Or a litter box. She just saw four boxes, an elaborate kitty condo setup, and a crime scene of stuffed mice. Some people decorate in Mid-Century Modern. Our décor: pampered cat.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way. (See Casey Box Pictures.)

But cats can walk across the keyboard and cause all sorts of havoc. Imagine my surprise when I got a notice from YouTube that I had reported the video How to Give Your Cat Medicine as promoting terrorism.  I had been editing YouTube videos and walked away from my PC. The only thing I can figure is our cat Patsy walked across the keyboard and somehow submitted the report.  

Moral of the story: keep kids, cats, and inobservant people away from Amazon and YouTube.

Happy Mother's Day