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Look, we just haven't had enough GOM stuff recently. So, where better to start than the state of the nation's postal service?
Time was, we could claim a postal service second-to-none in the world. Then, as is the way with publicly-owned operations told to perform "profitably", the Post Office showed that it didn't have a clue (if in doubt, blame the government for lack of investment, rather than actually get down to doing things properly) and the whole affair followed that well-trodden disaster route pioneered by the railways and the bus service.
One of the "unintended consequences" of splitting up operations is that it multiplies the opportunity for not-very-good companies to blame someone else. So, when I arrive home on Wednesday to find a note from Parcelforce that they had attempted a delivery. Here's the note that they attached (and you wouldn't believe what problems I've had installing the Scanner onto this machine, just to achieve this simple task. It would have been quicker to photograph it and get it onto the computer that way).
Note the diligence with which the deliverer has filled out this form. Indeed, try to understand what is going on at all.
So, at 4.30pm the following day, I trek diligently to the Post Office, casually queueing up behind the usual cornucopia of non English-speaking people who want to send parcels to Lithuania, or change their nationality, or whatever.
I hand over the form with my driving licence (you have to provide photographic proof of who you are and a document with your address to prove that you live there. Thankfully -- see earlier post on parking permit -- it doesn't have to be a Council Tax bill).
"Do you still live here?" the woman asks, pointing to the address on the driving licence.
"Yes". I said. (any communication beyond the absolute minimum is utterly fruitless -- you might as well try to engage a security guard at an airport with conversation about the weather).
Out she goes to the back. I wait about five minutes.
Back she comes, empty-handed.
"It hasn't arrived yet. He can come at any time."
"And what time do you close?"
"5.30"
"And it's 4.30 now".
"Yes".
"But the form says I can pick it up on the 16th. It doesn't say "not before 5.30"."
"He shouldn't have written that."
Ahh, the "we can blame someone else" syndrome. Great. Because, of course, Parcelforce is nothing to do with the post Office, now. The Post Office is too busy trying to sell you bBroadband and insurance and credit cards to actually get round to making the delivery of parcels easier.
So, an illiterate fuck from Parcelforce not only fails to write virtually any of the required stuff on a form, but the stuff that he does write, he gets wrong, thus wasting an hour of my day.
One day everyone whose time has been wasted by all of these companies should get together and sue in a class action for lost hours of our lives, valued at, oooh, fifty quid an hour.
And, of course, I still don't know what it is, although I suspect that it's some stuff from Full Tilt. Except, that is, there was another note, this time telling me to go to the Collection sorting office (somewhere else in Lewisham entrely) to pick up a package. Is it a diffferent package? Is it the same one? Who knows. The sorting office closes at 1pm every day, by the way, just in case anyone who actually has a job wants to collect anything.
However, one package that I know that it isn't is a Christmas Present that I ordered on December 3rd from "Easylife", some catalogue company of whom I had never heard, but which had the item I was asked to buy. It arrived yesterday, Jan 17th. Good going. No e-mails from them apologizing for the delay. In fact, I'd just about given up and I was going to order a similar item from elsewhere. Occasionally, Amazon seems like a pargon of excellent service that other companies can only aspire to.
I hope that they don't use Parcelforce.
Time was, we could claim a postal service second-to-none in the world. Then, as is the way with publicly-owned operations told to perform "profitably", the Post Office showed that it didn't have a clue (if in doubt, blame the government for lack of investment, rather than actually get down to doing things properly) and the whole affair followed that well-trodden disaster route pioneered by the railways and the bus service.
One of the "unintended consequences" of splitting up operations is that it multiplies the opportunity for not-very-good companies to blame someone else. So, when I arrive home on Wednesday to find a note from Parcelforce that they had attempted a delivery. Here's the note that they attached (and you wouldn't believe what problems I've had installing the Scanner onto this machine, just to achieve this simple task. It would have been quicker to photograph it and get it onto the computer that way).
Note the diligence with which the deliverer has filled out this form. Indeed, try to understand what is going on at all.
So, at 4.30pm the following day, I trek diligently to the Post Office, casually queueing up behind the usual cornucopia of non English-speaking people who want to send parcels to Lithuania, or change their nationality, or whatever.
I hand over the form with my driving licence (you have to provide photographic proof of who you are and a document with your address to prove that you live there. Thankfully -- see earlier post on parking permit -- it doesn't have to be a Council Tax bill).
"Do you still live here?" the woman asks, pointing to the address on the driving licence.
"Yes". I said. (any communication beyond the absolute minimum is utterly fruitless -- you might as well try to engage a security guard at an airport with conversation about the weather).
Out she goes to the back. I wait about five minutes.
Back she comes, empty-handed.
"It hasn't arrived yet. He can come at any time."
"And what time do you close?"
"5.30"
"And it's 4.30 now".
"Yes".
"But the form says I can pick it up on the 16th. It doesn't say "not before 5.30"."
"He shouldn't have written that."
Ahh, the "we can blame someone else" syndrome. Great. Because, of course, Parcelforce is nothing to do with the post Office, now. The Post Office is too busy trying to sell you bBroadband and insurance and credit cards to actually get round to making the delivery of parcels easier.
So, an illiterate fuck from Parcelforce not only fails to write virtually any of the required stuff on a form, but the stuff that he does write, he gets wrong, thus wasting an hour of my day.
One day everyone whose time has been wasted by all of these companies should get together and sue in a class action for lost hours of our lives, valued at, oooh, fifty quid an hour.
And, of course, I still don't know what it is, although I suspect that it's some stuff from Full Tilt. Except, that is, there was another note, this time telling me to go to the Collection sorting office (somewhere else in Lewisham entrely) to pick up a package. Is it a diffferent package? Is it the same one? Who knows. The sorting office closes at 1pm every day, by the way, just in case anyone who actually has a job wants to collect anything.
However, one package that I know that it isn't is a Christmas Present that I ordered on December 3rd from "Easylife", some catalogue company of whom I had never heard, but which had the item I was asked to buy. It arrived yesterday, Jan 17th. Good going. No e-mails from them apologizing for the delay. In fact, I'd just about given up and I was going to order a similar item from elsewhere. Occasionally, Amazon seems like a pargon of excellent service that other companies can only aspire to.
I hope that they don't use Parcelforce.
