A Lower East Side neighbor of THOR (The Hotel on Rivington, to non-initiates) reports on New Year's Eve hijinks that include FreshDirect. (FreshDirect and THOR in the same post? We're faint!) To the email!
Despite sharing a wall with The Hotel on Rivington, I have never really paid it much attention. We still think that their construction workers swiped our rooftop chairs, but all in all, they haven't been terrible neighbors. On new years eve, my roommate and I were having 30 people over for a lowkey night of drinking and dancing. Because I had been busy cleaning house, paying bills, etc. I failed to notice that Fresh Direct never showed up with my $300 order of mostly beer and champagne. I called Fresh Direct and they claimed that the order had been delivered, and that our doorman had accepted on my behalf. I explained that we don't have a doorman to which she responded, "Are you sure? How about a security guard?" Sometimes the good fellows at the hardware store accept packages for us but certainly they would not accept 15 boxes of beer and upon investigation they hadn't.
I was starting to panic until I saw a doorman at the hotel next door. "Did Fresh Direct deliver a bunch of packages to you?" The doorman thought about it for a few minutes and then said, "Yes, he thought they had delivered some items to the hotel."
I explained that they were most likely mine and could he direct me to them. He sent me to the lobby. I took the stairs as the elevators seemed to be stuck on the upper floors. No one knew anything at the front desk though I was able to overhear a few customers complaining about their hi-fi not working. Finally someone took interest in my predicament and we began searching the hotel. She though that perhaps it was delivered to the penthouse where they were preparing for their new years bash. Certainly, the party organizer must have thought it peculiar that their neighbor would be footing the beer for their festivities. We searched high and low to no avail. It was finally decided that I should leave and they would call me if it showed up. My packages were there--the signatory was confrimed to be an employee there though he had gone home sick--but would I find them in time to chill the beer (and cook the quiche I ordered)?
Just as I was getting ready to go buy more beer at the market, my stash was located. Boxes upon boxes had been placed on the ground floor in that unfinished area just to the right of the eggshell entryway. No one helped me move the boxes. No one had bothered to tell me that they were there (My phone number and address were on the label)! Admittedly, it was Fresh Direct who actually did the fucking up but it is more fun to bitch about a boutique hotel than a grocery service.
One final note: as a special treat to my boyfriend, I had been thinking about booking a room for us there. Thank god I didn't! What a dump! I never knew that space heaters were all the rage and they aren't fooling anyone by draping huge swathes of fabric over the incomplete areas.