Thursday, June 11, 2015

Australia Post strikes again

After taking 9 days to shift a small (and I mean sub-paperback book sized) parcel from Perth to Melbourne, yesterday afternoon I received this notification from Australia Post:

Great... now I've got to waste at least one more day before I can get my gear.

But wait... that's not my local post office.  It's not even the right suburb.  Bosch?  Closed?  WTF?  And I know that area pretty well, and I reckon I know what that address is.  Yep, I'm right.  Post office my arse.

Ring up AusPost and put it to the nice lady I spoke to that the address I'm being directed to is a large commercial manufacturing and warehousing facility for a German electrical multinational, and that it seemed unlikely that to present myself there would result in the intended and desired outcome.

Much tapping of keyboards immediately ensues, along with hushed consultations with other staff.

AusPost - Am I *sure* that's not a postal depot or something?

Me - Pretty sure, I drive past it about once a fortnight and it still looks like a factory to me.

AusPost - Any chance it's closed?

Me - Probably not since the weekend, and I expect the mate I saw on Sunday who works there would have mentioned it if so.

AusPost - Ah.

More tapping of keyboards.

AusPost - We suspect it's been mis-scanned... since we can only see the same information as you can, we can't locate it either.  We'll have to do a lost item search.

Me - Awesome!  Might Sir inquire as to how long that will take?

AusPost - Well, normally a couple of weeks, and you'll have to get the sender to report the item lost - only they can initiate that process.

Me - Excuse me?!?  You've obviously got the item, it's apparently in Melbourne, you're the ones who lose it through mishandling, and you've sent me a notification for it... but I now have to go back and get the sender to report it lost?  How does that add any value to the process whatsoever?

AusPost - That's the way it works....

Me - It seems very much that that's the way it bloody well doesn't work to me!  Look, the item was being delivered to my home address, right?

AusPost - Um... I'm not sure.

Me - Why FFS?  If I look at the tracking history for the parcel on the web, it clearly shows the delivery address - are you telling me that I can see more as a customer on the web than your own internal systems do?

AusPost - Erm...

Me - In the name of preservation of sanity, let's take it as given that it was being delivered to my home address for the moment.  On every single occasion past, when an item requiring a signature couldn't be delivered, it ends up at the AusPost at my local shopping centre.  So it would seem likely to me that that is what has happened on this occasion too, yes?

AusPost - Erm... yes, probably.

Me - Excellent, we progress.  Now, if I was to ring up Fuckwits'R'Us and put the question to them as to whether my item was there, all I will get is some peabrain who wants a tracking number, which will then tell them the item in question is sitting at a manufactory 10 kilometres away.  The peabrain won't see the slightest issue with that and I will be back precisely where I am now.  And that's assuming there is actually a documented contact number for Peabrain Central, which I bet there bloody well isn't, because your organisation carefully removed them all some time ago.  Do you think that your ongoing assistance today might extend to ringing them up and exploring the idea of them actually looking for the thing?

AusPost - Um... erm... can I put you on hold for a while?

Me - That was inevitable at some point, so I have been mentally preparing myself.  Please proceed.

While she talks to Peabrain Central, I ring up SWMBO at home, get her to grab the come-and-collect me card from the letterbox, and skedaddle up to the post office.

AusPost - OK... we've found the item!  You can collect it from the local post office.

Me - Excellent.  Excelsior.  Could you please communicate to Peabrain Central that my wife is standing in their shopfront now.  Her name is xxx.  She's blonde, is wearing purple glasses, she'll be the one with the tendrils of smoke coming out of her ears.  I suggest approaching in line of sight.

So, ultimately, I have my parcel.

The english language does not contain words to express my feelings that the fucking shop sent me the wrong gear.

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