Sunday, 21 February 2016

COURIER POST - yet another sad saga!

Living in a gated city complex ensures ongoing problems with CourierPost. It is almost impossible to guarantee a delivery service that someone, somewhere has actually paid for. It doesn’t seem fair does it? The colourful CourierPost vehicle is instantly recognizable from my ground floor kitchen window. I can oh so easily see the driver sprinting towards the upper carpark entry with package in hand but strangely the entry bell is never pressed, and almost immediately he is to be seen sprinting back towards his waiting van, with the package, mysteriously still in hand. When I investigate I find a `Card To Call’ in my mail box with a tracking number telling me that sadly, I wasn’t at home when the driver called. There are helpful details on the card as to how I can pick up my parcel from the CourierPost Auckland City Depot inconveniently situated on the other side of town, between the hours of 8.30am to 6.00pm Monday to Friday and 8.00am to 12.00pm on Saturday. There is no telephone number for me to call and to locate one requires a determined internet search. Once I find the contact number I ring them and wait quite a long time for a helpful `Real Person’ keen to assist me. In fact I am told that the call is being recorded for the purposes of even better customer service and Ellie or Kylie or Milly are so very pleasant, so aghast when I tell them my tale of woe that I am further reassured. The package that someone, somewhere has paid to be delivered to me will undoubtedly turn up tomorrow. Except that it does not and more than a week and two more telephone calls later, I found myself still waiting. I tentatively suggest to The Husband that the service provided by CourierPost is so bad that it is almost a situation that might benefit from the help of The Commerce Commission. He does not entirely agree but I was keen to give the matter serious thought. The next time I rang to complain I confided in terribly pleasant Susie who took my call. She said she would order a special delivery and the package would arrive between six and eight pm that very evening! I was pathetically grateful – until nine o`clock when it became clear that her promise was a very empty one indeed. I was on the phone yet again at eight this morning and Tracey had it sorted by lunchtime with what she told me was an extra special `Pace’ delivery. It was not good enough she agreed and she could quite understand why I was now very cross indeed. Somehow though, receiving the package at long last seemed to dissipate the anger even though it turns out to be merely the Ethernet cable from Sky TV that I have absolutely no idea how to connect!

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