Pass the parcel
I got a card through the letterbox on Monday. One of those Royal Mail ‘we called but you were out’ things. On the back, it gave the address of the sorting office in Eccles.
Eccles? What’s going on there?
So I ring the number, and tell them I’ve got a card to say they tried to deliver, and can they deliver it to my work address? Is it in Eccles? Well, no.
It seems that someone has a bunch of cards from Eccles, and is using them in the city centre area, despite repeated appeals from put-upon staff at the Eccles office, who have to deal with irate people who’ve gone all the way out there in person, only to find the card is lying to them. The nice lady gives me a number to call for the Oldham Road office.
This gets me through to a rather confused person who does admit to being the Oldham Road sorting office, but tells me after a while that she doesn’t have my parcel because it’s not her department. She gives me another number, almost identical to hers.
I ring this number. It is the sorting office. A woman tells me that they won’t re-deliver to my work address. She asks for my address. I tell her. Then she wants to know the postcode for my work address. Having convinced her that it really is in the city centre, she relents, but before agreeing to re-deliver, she tells me that first she should check whether they’ve got it.
Given the way this is going so far, I am fully prepared to hear that it isn’t there. Fortunately, after what seems like ages, she comes back and agrees that they do have it, and will re-deliver. I then confuse her utterly by working in a building that has a name as well as a street number. I don’t mention that I’m leaving at the end of the week, as I presume they’ll try to deliver the next day.
Fortunately, I am right about this. I now have a parcel on my desk. It is quite large.
Originally, I ordered a skirt and top by mail order, which arrived in a packet small enough to be stuffed in the mailbox. Having returned one item for being elephant-size, the replacement has arrived in a box about four times the size of the original.
Perhaps it isn’t the skirt I wanted. Perhaps they’ve sold out, and it’s the other potential choice. Until I open the box, perhaps the skirt is both the cream a-line AND the flowered fifties-style.
It is: 2.5 working days til I leave. 24 days to Greenbelt. Getting closer!
Eccles? What’s going on there?
So I ring the number, and tell them I’ve got a card to say they tried to deliver, and can they deliver it to my work address? Is it in Eccles? Well, no.
It seems that someone has a bunch of cards from Eccles, and is using them in the city centre area, despite repeated appeals from put-upon staff at the Eccles office, who have to deal with irate people who’ve gone all the way out there in person, only to find the card is lying to them. The nice lady gives me a number to call for the Oldham Road office.
This gets me through to a rather confused person who does admit to being the Oldham Road sorting office, but tells me after a while that she doesn’t have my parcel because it’s not her department. She gives me another number, almost identical to hers.
I ring this number. It is the sorting office. A woman tells me that they won’t re-deliver to my work address. She asks for my address. I tell her. Then she wants to know the postcode for my work address. Having convinced her that it really is in the city centre, she relents, but before agreeing to re-deliver, she tells me that first she should check whether they’ve got it.
Given the way this is going so far, I am fully prepared to hear that it isn’t there. Fortunately, after what seems like ages, she comes back and agrees that they do have it, and will re-deliver. I then confuse her utterly by working in a building that has a name as well as a street number. I don’t mention that I’m leaving at the end of the week, as I presume they’ll try to deliver the next day.
Fortunately, I am right about this. I now have a parcel on my desk. It is quite large.
Originally, I ordered a skirt and top by mail order, which arrived in a packet small enough to be stuffed in the mailbox. Having returned one item for being elephant-size, the replacement has arrived in a box about four times the size of the original.
Perhaps it isn’t the skirt I wanted. Perhaps they’ve sold out, and it’s the other potential choice. Until I open the box, perhaps the skirt is both the cream a-line AND the flowered fifties-style.
It is: 2.5 working days til I leave. 24 days to Greenbelt. Getting closer!
posted by Myn at 4:20 AM
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