The Parcelforce files: volume whatever
I've been trying to spare you the nasty little details of my ongoing travails with Parcelforce, because it really doesn't make for very edifying blogging. Besides, it's been a while since I had a really explosive run-in with them. They hardly ever deliver on time, they never reply to letters, they are impossible to reach on the phone, but that's all just what we expect, isn't it? I can't resist, though, sharing this latest little nugget.
They have a new policy. If you're not in when they try to deliver, instead of getting you to phone them to request a redelivery, or trying again the next day — either of which have worked fine in the past* — they will now take your package to a "local" post office for you to collect.
Sounds reasonable? Well, that all depends on your definition of "local", and whether you have a car. In my case, collecting the package means lugging this big, heavy box over two bus rides and 15 minutes of walking.
"Many of our customers find this more convenient," I'm told. Do they bollocks. I'm sure Parcelforce finds it more convenient, but I bet they never asked any customers. And no, they won't redeliver, under any circumstances.
*sigh* If only I could afford private couriers. If only.
_____
* Assuming that wasting hours on the phone and having the parcel delivered a day late after all falls within the definition of "fine", anyway.
3 comments:
And still I have to ask: Have any of these Parcelforce employees "gone postal" yet? There's just no comparing mail-service woes until there's the possibility of mass shootings involved. You Brits have it so easy, I'm telling ya.
I'm so glad to find out that England and America have one great uniting factor - and inefficient and frustrating postal force. *sigh* It's a small world after all.
Royal Mail is generally pretty good. It's just a shame they cut the parcel delivering service off from the letters, because Parcelforce are... well, to call them Parcelfarce would really be too kind.
And yes, Cate, I should probably count my blessings. But it's surely only a matter of time before an enraged customer turns the (ammo-laden) tables.
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