They’re just ****. The whole Post Office is just ******* ****.
Package delivered yesterday, too big for letterbox. Of course, I wasn’t in because the post now comes at 10:15 instead of 7am. It’s my own stupid fault for having a ******* job, I know, but I wasn’t in.
Needless to say, the gormless prick didn’t try any of my neighbours (2 or 3 were in and would have taken it). So back to the depot. Not the one 150 yards from the house. No, the one in the town centre. That’s open from 6:30 to midday so I can’t get there to pick the damn thing up.
So I ring the “helpline”, pick option 3 (arrange redelivery) and eventually it gets picked up… but all I get is a voice message saying that I need to ring… the same number I just rang.
So I called again (3 times), gave in after going round in so many circles I was ready to be sick (though that could have been the chocolate that Al insists on bringing into the office) and went for the “make a complaint” option. Which then offered me the choice of arranging a redelivery…? This one forwarded me to a woman somewhere else in the UK who said it’s now 48 hours to rearrange instead of 24 that it was a month ago.
So I’ve got neighbours in on Thursday who said they’d take the package… but who might not be in on Friday. Which means I won’t be able to get the thing till next week at the earliest.
And I just got yelled at by a very impolite manager last time I went to the sorting office. *****. The lot of them.
“Well we think the options for redelivery are perfectly substantial”. Well I ******* don’t, and I pay your ******* wages you useless fart-knocker. GRRAAAARARAGGAGHHH
No wonder people go “postal”.
I won’t feel better until the overpaid ******** who’re getting millions a year for destroying what used to be a reliable service are hanged, drawn, quartered and fed to pigs. Twice.
And on a lighter note
Kind of. I have eaten so much chocolate in the last few days that even my poo is coming out brown. How scary is that?
See, you should adopt my philosophy of never having anything to do with anything, ever at all.
Otherwise, there’s just grief.
I forget my own philosophy sometimes. Like a couple of weeks ago, I ordered a bunch of books from this book club I’m a member of. Only one book turned up, and it wasn’t one I ordered, but I was charged for the lot. I rang their “helpline” (Ahem) One of those incredibly cuntible ones that has NO HUMAN OPERATOR AT ALL. Just an endless series of recorded messages that, nevertheless, manage to royally piss you off by having NO option that relates to your problem.
Eventually I sent them a stinking e-mail telling them how unhappy I was with their so-called customer service, and how they could take their ******* book club and shove it (This is not the first time they have done this to me).
Three days later I get a little two-line email back telling me that they’ve “reduced my balance”. That’s it. No apology, no offer to replace the completely wrong book I received, nothing. Like they couldn’t give the slightest ****.
I hate them so much I want them all to DIE. I’m certainly not getting any more books from them. No. I’m going to make a list of the ones I want from their catalogue, and then get them off of Amazon. And then send them a letter telling them that.
*****.
I had a similar experience with one a while back, but it worked out in my favour. As a rule, I sign up for the stupidly cheap starting offer (I think this was TSP) and then reject their expensive “default” order each month until my minimum contract length expires.
One month *thud* through the door – The Pictorial History of Great Britain. £20 or summat. But as I keep a copy of the emails I send them and the response back (i.e. “thank you for rejecting this month’s offer”), I jotted them an arsey line and they wrote back saying “no charge – and keep the book”.
Bonus.
However, I’d not order from them or anyone similar again unless they’d deliver to my work address as i can’t be bothered with the cuntfuckery that is the Post Office and it’s associated ****-scoffing staff.
Just ring the post office and tell the nice lady in the other part of the country that the parcel’s a test of a new bomb design a friend’s sent you, and if you don’t disarm it in the next 24 hours, the post office depot will pay an accidental visit to the moon.
Then when the police turn up at your place of work wanting a word with you tell them your chav neigbour made you do under the threat of torturing your cat.
Two birds with one stone.
Of course, you’ll never see your parcel, but it’s probably worth it.
Failing that try this number: 01274 759 278 – 192.com says it’s the number of the depot in (what’s left of) Forster Square, which I assume is the one you’re talking about.
whinge whinge whinge
get a grip
Carl – that number may be handy… although the sorting office is no longer on Forster Square!
Johnny – go piss up a rope fuckstick.
Everyone else – the package turned up today, within 24 hours. Yay. But… there’s a “but”. I only got it as my immediate next door neighbour (not the ****, the other one), heard the postie braying on my door. The package was marked “redeliver as addressed”. No mention of taking it to number 7 as I’d requested. To two people. One of whom rang me up to check this.
Post Office = Utter ****.
It’s normally scorched black because the sun shines out of my arse.
your poo’s comin out brown….. as apposed to??????? gold????? lol
Whiskers – I think you’re right, no minimum period. Just write to them and cancel! They do stop, trust me. I’ve not even had another invitiaton to join them in 3 years. I also think you may be right about that Johnny/Johnno person. What a prick. You hold him down, I’ll **** in his mouth and stamp his teeth into it until he chokes on a mixture of blood, feaces and enamel.
Mosh – the book club I was talking about was TSP. Utterly useless. And there seems to be no minimum period with them – they still send me catalogues even if I’ve ordered nothing from them for a year. Then, of course, I give in and order something from them, and misery ensues. I don’t think they’ve ever got a single order right. ******* ****-garglers.
Oh, and I wonder if “Johnny” might be related to the troll calling himself “Johno” who has been making SaneScientist’s blog such a misery these days?
If so, he really ought to die, slowly, of pain.
I’ll help.