55 Amazon Delivery Jokes for the Box on the Porch

The delivery photo arrived. It is a porch. It is not my porch. I do not recognize the welcome mat. I have questions.

The photo confirmation showed a porch in what I am pretty sure was a different city. The lighting was wrong. The trees were wrong. The state was wrong.

Amazon says my package was delivered. Amazon's photo proves it. The photo is of a stranger's life.

The porch pirate did not steal my package. The porch pirate is the algorithm that picked the wrong porch.

Marked delivered. Not delivered. We have all been here. We will all be here again next Tuesday.

Out for delivery at 6 a.m. Delivered at 11:47 p.m. The driver lived a whole life out there.

Same-day delivery was an aspiration. It became a next-day delivery. It is now a Thursday.

I paid for next-day. It arrived in two days. Amazon refunded me with a smile I could feel through the screen.

Two-day Prime shipping arrived on day seven. Prime stands for approximately, eventually.

The email said we're sorry your package has been delayed. I appreciate the apology. I would have preferred the package.

Status: Package is being prepared for shipment. It has been being prepared for four days. What are they doing to it.

The package shipped. Then nothing. Five full days of tracking silence. Like it joined a witness protection program.

The box arrived. The box contained the wrong item. The wrong item was for someone in another state who is currently opening my thing.

Ordered a phone charger. Received a single sock. The sock had no reviews to verify.

Ordered a USB cable. Received a refrigerator-sized box containing one USB cable taped to a corner like a hostage.

The box was 90 percent air. The air came with its own packaging slip.

The air pillow padding had fused into one long sausage. I am not unpacking. I am performing surgery.

Some packages still arrive wrapped in that crinkly brown paper from 1998. Like a small archaeological surprise.

The bubble wrap is now compostable. It does not pop. A small joy has died.

I ordered a six-pack. It arrived as three boxes on three different days. Logistics as performance art.

I ordered a ten-pack of paper towels. Five boxes. Five tracking numbers. Five separate photos of my porch.

Subscribe and Save sounded clever in 2017. I now own 14 bottles of dish soap.

I forgot to cancel Subscribe and Save. I have enough toothpaste to outlive the cat.

The first three search results are sponsored. The fourth is the thing I searched for, sort of.

The sponsored result is for an entirely different product that shares one word with my query. The word is the.

Ships from a warehouse in a place I cannot pronounce. Returns to a P.O. box that does not exist.

The seller has 4 stars. Across 30 reviews. All five-word reviews. All posted in the same week.

Two listings. Identical product. Different seller names. The names are just consonants.

The Prime badge says Prime. The delivery date says five business days. Prime is now a vibe.

The brand is QXLNTR. It has 12,000 reviews. It cannot possibly be a real company.

I trust QXLNTR more than I trust the household name. QXLNTR has nothing to lose.

There is always one 1-star review that is the only honest one. It tells me what the product actually is.

The 5-star reviews are from accounts created last Tuesday. All named like license plates.

The reviews from before 2018 are useful. The reviews from after 2018 are sponsored gratitude.

The listing started as a phone case. It is now a blender. Same 9,000 reviews. None about blending.

I am reading reviews of an air fryer that used to be a vacuum. The category change was a stealth promotion.

Seller-fulfilled returns require me to drive the item to a different state, on my schedule, in their packaging.

The prepaid return label costs $14.99 deducted from my refund. The shipping was free in only one direction.

Drop off at any UPS Store. The nearest one closed in 2021. The map still lists it.

Drop off at Kohl's. I have not been to a Kohl's since the order. I am about to become a Kohl's regular.

Drop off at Whole Foods. While I am there, I will spend $74 on three items I did not need.

The return required the original packaging. The original packaging was 90 percent air pillows. I have been hoarding them.

The return did not require the original packaging. I had already kept the original packaging for six weeks just in case.

The refund landed the day before the return arrived at the warehouse. Amazon trusts me more than I trust myself.

The customer service chat opened with a script. I responded with a question. The script repeated.

The chat escalated me to a person. The person escalated me to a different script. The script had the same apologies.

Alexa heard the TV. Alexa ordered 47 dog biscuits. We do not have a dog.

The four-year-old said paw patrol toy out loud. Three boxes arrived on Friday.

The recurring delivery came on a Saturday instead of a Tuesday. The whole week has now collapsed.

The Amazon van is blocking the driveway. It will block it for 11 more minutes. I have studied this.

The delivery person waved at the camera. I felt seen. Then I noticed the box was at the wrong door.

The driver put the box behind the planter. Cleverly hidden from me. Perfectly visible from the street.

Leave-at-door instructions said porch. The box is in the rain. The rain is also on the porch, technically.

Do-not-leave-at-door instructions said do not leave at door. The box is at the door. The door is offended.

The dog grabbed the package before I did. The package is now upstairs. We negotiate from a position of weakness.