My best friend cannot attend the rescheduled Morrissey Troxy gig as she is abroad. So I needed to post her ticket back to See Tickets for a refund. So I posted it recorded delivery a week ago now. But on the Royal Mail website it’s saying Item blah blah has been accepted at Post Office X on 10/06/09. Nothing about it ever leaving again.
Now, don’t bother yourself looking for an email for customer services on the post office site; there isn’t one. There is just some shit-eating section called ‘ask Sarah’ (wonder how long it took to come up with that name? How much of our cash did they spend on that blue sky session?) and you start off typing in ‘where’s my item?’ and end up typing in ‘I hate you!’ and it sends you round in circles for about 3 hours. After much frustration, I finally found out I needed to call them up.
So I do. And it says ‘please read aloud your 13 digit reference number.’ Uh-oh. Now I have quite a loud speaking voice with a non-distinct accent, so god help any the softly spoken Scottish, or stuttering Somalian. Your phone would probably explode in your hand after three goes.
You can guess what happens as I read out the number. And again. And again. Then finally, it gets it right!
‘Sorry we have no information on our system about your item. Would you like to track another item?’
I’m fully expecting it to cut me off, but then it gives me an option to speak to a human- thanks. You know things are bad when you feel like it’s a lucky break to be told they’ve chucked your letter in the bin. She says she has no information either, but I have to wait until the 29th to log it as missing.
I do not have a penny. That refund was my spends for next week.
The post office is so unbelievably shit inside and out that it’s no surprise the website doesn’t work properly, and the phone system is pure evil. When you actually are forced to go in one of the places, they are dark, dingy, and soul destroying. They look like they last had a refit in 1975. Their branding is so rubbish you actually feel embarrassed for them, and the queue is longer than for the cheapest and best rollercoaster on earth. The whole thing is just about as inspirational as an STD clinic.
Just put the dog down. It’s been dying for decades. It’s for the best. Royal Mail? The Queen and corgis better start sorting this shit out fast, because no one else can be arsed, clearly.
And no I don’t want to buy your fucking credit cards, home insurance or anything else, just post my letters, see they get there on time, then fuck off!