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Shopping Spree

Written by Beth Bernobich

 ILLUSTRATED BY: MO STARKEY

Welcome to AmazingLiving.com

Stock Your Medicine Cabinet for Fall *Plus* Save $25 Today Only (Restrictions Apply). Start shopping with deals on . . .

Rhonda viewed the gaudy front page for the Amazing Living Online Pharmacy with dismay. Ads for dozens of herbal products crowded the screen, promising all kinds of miracle cures, and even with pop-ups turned off, the psychedelic graphics gave her an instant cluster headache. She almost regretted skipping lunch with her co-workers just so she could sneak in this shopping session. Still, if her girlfriend Denise was right, and those products actually did what they claimed, it would be worth any number of headaches.

So let's see what they've got.

She scanned past screaming pink buttons labeled Join Our Savers Club and Featured Products. Ah hah—there it was. A discreet box in the lower right-hand corner, just above the privacy policy: The Better Marriage Prescription Corner.

She clicked the link. The screen faded to a soothing dark blue splash screen with the company logo (a stylized A and L circled by a wavy line) above the words:

Thank you for visiting

The Better Marriage Prescription Corner.

Sex, please.

Rhonda blinked. Oh. Right. A survey. She checked the box marked Female. The screen did another fancy fadeout, and three columns of links appeared. Rhonda shook with silent laughter at product names like PleaseAndThanks, AfterYou, and YesDear. The descriptions were even better. ClutterNix promised to turn your husband into a neater mate. Memor-eeze claimed he would never forget an important date, from back-to-school night to the tenth wedding anniversary. (Some patients require multiple doses. Do not use in combination with alcohol.)

All the products came in single-dosage capsules, which you could dissolve into juice or soda to hide the after-taste. A bold-faced warning informed Rhonda that hot liquids such as coffee or soup reduced the drug's effectiveness.

Well, that should be easy. She could slip the capsule into Tony's orange juice at breakfast. And just as Denise promised, the prices were low, with discounts for large orders. (Though a ten-dose limit per product, per order, did apply.) Rhonda picked up several each of Memor-eeze and ILoveU. On impulse, she added something called SexyFriday, which came with a free sample of YesDownThere.

An unexpected burst of voice—loud and close—made her jump.

". . . and then she asked if I could make the deadline."

". . . with that friendly gleam of teeth, right?"

Carl and Bud. The next minute, Rhonda caught a whiff of Melissa's honeysuckle perfume. The office crew was back, which meant lunch break was nearly over. Damn. She snapped up a couple of LurveTheFlowerz and a trial size of YesDear, then clicked the check-out button.

A new page appeared, demanding all the usual shipping and billing information. Yeah, yeah, yeah, she thought, typing as fast as she could. Then, Damn, what's this?

User Address already exists in database. Login?

What the? Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. It couldn't possibly be. Tony would never shop here. And yet, she remembered that funny survey screen. Maybe it wasn't a survey. Maybe they tailored the products to your sex. She could just imagine the kind of stuff guys would buy. Or could she? With growing dread—and a lot of curiosity—she clicked the login button and entered Tony's favorite password (yodaddy).

Welcome, Tony Delaney. Would you like to see your Account Status?

Damn straight, Rhonda thought. With another few clicks, she had Tony's order history. Not as bad as she feared—just three small orders over the past six months—but some of those items made her blink. SuppersReady, Fuggedaboutit, SportsNut, FootballFloozy . . . Heh. That explained why her morning cereal tasted off. And that episode during the college playoffs. Hmmmm.

There was one new order from last Wednesday—it included the maximum ten doses of Fuggedaboutit, plus a couple more like ReadyNow and NagBegone. According to the account status page, Tony's order would reach their house on Thursday.

Three days from now.

Rhonda clicked back to the check-out screen and chewed her thumb. Now what? She couldn't stop him from getting those products, or he'd ask her how she knew about AmazingLiving.com. But what if his products canceled out hers? All she wanted was a few "I Love You's" and maybe flowers now and then. Well, and the oral sex would be nice.

Hah. I know.

She created her own user profile, with the shipping address c/o her workplace, and for email confirmation, she entered the new gmail addy she got courtesy of Denise's invitation. Luckily, she had already planned to charge everything to her old Amex credit card, the one she used for Christmas presents and other surprise purchases. It was stretching the truth to give her workplace as her billing address, but then, she had to risk it.

Almost done. She paged back to the product list and read through the items swiftly. If she could just find the right couple of products . . .

There. Almost the last item on the page. InnerChick. Yeah, she thought reading the product information. InnerChick promised to bring your husband in tune with his feminine side. Ever wished he would ask directions? Give you the remote? Stop leaving dirty dishes under the front seat of your car? Try InnerChick. Three doses and your husband will be more like the woman you always wished he would be.

Rhonda ordered the maximum of ten. That was sure to counteract anything Tony slipped her. Now she just had to figure out how to get him through a couple doses before his package arrived. She worried about that problem through the next few screens, unable to think of a solution, and all too aware that she had run well over her lunch hour.

"Hey, Rhonda."

Vivian, the department supervisor, peered around the cubicle wall. Rhonda hastily minimized the browser window and spun her chair around. "Right here," she said, trying to sound innocent and brisk at the same time. Vivian was squinting at her, but then Vivian always squinted, she told herself. "Um, what's up?"

"The budget spreadsheets, that's what. Meeting's been rescheduled for Wednesday, and I need all the numbers double-checked, pronto. Are they ready?"

"Almost. Give me ten minutes."

Vivian squinted harder, but she didn't say anything. Rhonda waited until her supervisor disappeared before she let out her breath. Too close. Too damned close. Might as well cancel the order and try again later. Reluctantly, she moused over the window close button.

Exit without checkout?

She hesitated. She might not have another chance today, and tomorrow was too late. Two minutes, she told herself desperately. I can get my order through and still finish those spreadsheets.

Rhonda surreptitiously glanced around. No one hanging over the cubicle walls, not after Vivian's visit. No one behind her in the corridor. And nothing up my sleeve, as Bullwinkle would say. Still nervous, she re-opened the browser window.

And gulped in surprise.

In defiance of all the corporate internet settings, a bubble-shaped pop-up floated past. Amazed, Rhonda watched as it danced a spiral path over the nearly-complete order screen. It looked like Casper the Ghost, but with more class.

How did they do that?

Then she forgot everything else as she read the text inside the bubble.

In a Hurry? Late for a Special Occasion? Use our Ultra-Express Delivery Option. Click Me and Find Out More.

Bingo.

Rhonda chased down the bubble with her mouse and clicked. It vanished in a cloud of smaller pink bubbles to reveal her shipping options filled out for Special Overnight Delivery. Ouch, but that option was expensive. She suspected the delivery charges more than made up for the low cost of the products themselves, but it was worth it. Just a few more buttons . . .

Order Confirmed. You will receive your package in One (1) Business Day(s). Estimated arrival date is Wednesday, a.m.

Rhonda closed the browser with a click and a smile. Humming with anticipation, she opened up Vivian's spreadsheets to double-check those numbers.

****

Wednesday morning, Rhonda found she could not stop humming. Or dancing. Or smiling at Tony. Oh sure, Monday afternoon had dragged, and Tuesday had proved even worse. But at last it was Wednesday. Wednesday! According to the latest email from Amazing Living, her package had an expected arrival time of 8:30. Rhonda had almost reset her alarm for an earlier hour just to make sure Murphy didn't tap-dance all over her plans, but she didn't want to make Tony suspicious. More suspicious, she amended.

"You look awful jumpy today," Tony commented as he poured milk over his Sugar-Frosted Crunchy Oats Cereal (the kind with the model fighter plane prize inside the box). "Whassup?"

Rhonda shrugged. "Oh, nothing. Nothing except Vivian and her everlasting Gobstopper of a budget."

Tony shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and crunched loudly. "Yeah, well, she's a trick, that Vivian. So, you gonna work late tonight?"

Not if I can help it, Rhonda thought, her mind on the waiting package. Should she start him on the InnerChick? Or was that pushing things too fast? Maybe just a dose of YesDear, just to see how well these wonder drugs worked.

"I don't know yet," she told Tony. "I'm ahead of schedule, but the quarterly budget wars start today, so things might get hairy."

"Like Vivian," Tony said with a smirk.

Rhonda smirked back. Wait till tonight, Tony-boy.

Murphy and his Law were taking a permanent vacation she decided. That morning, she found none of the usual obstacles to her commute. No traffic. The lights in her favor. That hideous highway construction project cleared away. Rhonda zipped into her parking space and jogged through the employee entrance five minutes ahead of the crew.

"Good morning," she called out to Tina, the department secretary. "Any packages for me?"

Tina glanced up from sorting mail. "There was."

Rhonda's heart did a double skip-and-jump, and some of the joy leaked out of her day. Tina started her shift at 8:30. Usually the mailroom guys left any early delivery packages at her desk. "What do you mean was?" she said.

"Just what I said. Was here. As in, past perfect tense, indicative and not subjunctive, and that's what I get for being a goddamn English major." Tina punctuated every syllable by slapping down an envelope into a different pile.

Clearly her day had not started well. Rhonda tried again.

"Um, sorry, Tina. Is Vivian being a PITA?"

"Yeah, she is," Tina snapped. "It's that goddamn budget meeting today. Either she showed up at dawn, or she never left, because she was already at her desk when I came in. Chewed me out for no reason at all. Five goddamn minutes," she added in a mutter. "You'd think the world ended."

Rhonda peered around Tina's desk to Vivian's office. No lights showed underneath the door, which was closed. "So, um, about my package. What happened to it?"

Tina scowled. "Vivian happened to it. Johnny-Boy from Receiving came by five minutes—okay, maybe fifteen minutes—before I got here, and needed a signature. And before you ask, no, I don't have the damned thing. Vicious Vivian must've locked it in her office. Come by at lunch, why don't you?"

Rhonda closed her eyes, feeling sick. Murphy had screwed her but good. Served her right for being so cock-sure this morning.

"Thanks, Tina," she whispered. "I'll do that."

No big deal, she told herself, walking back to her desk. Vivian won't care about a stupid package. She popped a couple antacids with an aspirin chaser, then dove into the day's workload.

Twelve o'clock came at last. Rhonda hurried past Tina's desk and knocked at Vivian's door. No answer. She jiggled the handle, which refused to budge.

"Don't even bother," Tina said, looking up from her typing. "All the managers went out for lunch. Say what’s in that package, anyway?"

"Rat poison," Rhonda snapped. She left before Tina could snap back.

She spent the afternoon fruitlessly haunting Vivian's office. No luck. The only good point was finding out that Tina wasn't mad at her. "You looked peaked," Tina said when Rhonda made one last circuit around five o'clock (pretending to visit the supply cabinet). "No wonder you're cranky."

"I'm sorry," Rhonda started to say.

Tina waved away her apology. "No problem. It's that Vivian. She's enough to make anyone snappish. And speaking of the Vicked Vitch, she called to have me order in pizza for dinner. I'm betting those