A Very Unhappy Cat

Recently, I bought an item of clothing from an Instagram ad (was an impulse, and before anyone says anything, I knew it was a mistake even as I did it). The site mary-jane.co.uk looked smart and legit, clearly stated that it was UK based, had lots of very shiny star-ratings, and promised to deliver by Royal Mail. Everything seemed in order.

But.

First problem: the second I responded to an ad on a Meta site, all I got was endless versions of the same. Every other post was another ad for women’s clothing. I knew this would happen (duh), but had no idea of the sheer, hammerstone walloping that the algorithm would deliver. Instantly, it was four posts out of every five. I’d block one, then get six more offering me identical products, under different names and websites. Lawd knows, the Socials are hard enough to navigate anyway, getting them to the point where you can actually see your friends’ posts, but it turned Insta from ‘a pain in the ass’ to ‘utterly un-navigable’ in under a second and a half.

No surprise there, possibly.

And again I say: But.

Delivery time and information: my parcel is being shipped internationally, and by Evri, both of which were in direct conflict to what was stated on the site. I waited nine days for the package, and, when it finally arrived, I opened it to find this:

On top of the poor, twisted kitty, the garment was a really, nasty cheap and flimsy fabric, poorly made, with badly, raggedly stitched seams. It honestly looked like someone had knocked up three thousand of them in a garage somewhere (ya think?). I contacted the site through their online form, where they said they would get back to me in six hours, and nothing. I sent them an email, as per their specifications, and nothing. I looked for a phone number, didn't find one, so sent them a second email, and still nothing. I went back to the original ad, and found it had a whole list of customer complaints in the comments. And finally, when I looked for where all those star-ratings had come from, I found no links, and no way to leave my own.

This was several days ago, and the silence continues. Regrettably, I think my cool kitty dungarees are a thirty-squid duster, as they’re completely unwearable, and ‘Mary Jane’, wherever their Temu-weatshop may be, is not about to take them back, or refund my monies. Or, indeed, communicate in any way whatsoever.

So yes, I’m slapping myself up the side of the head.

For somehow losing sight of what the pushing of online sales has really become, both in terms of ‘marketing’ (spam tins dressed up to look like chicken bouillon) and in terms of the sheer fucking saturation of them, endlessly different 'bot-created fronts, all for the same set of salt mines.

Silly, silly Danie.