pmcd
18-Apr-11, 09:42
I am second to none in my admiration for the carriers who deliver our goods to far-flung places, some almost inaccessible, through winter's mighty upheavals, battling rain, wind and fog, and through a thousand travails which the imagination gives rise to.
Also, I am adamant in my support of the Royal Mail, and am delighted with the service.
BUT - what is the recruitment process for the mind-blowingly rude and uncaring people at the end of the telephone who tell YOU when they propose to deliver - to the nearest day - and then phone up on the day of delivery (if you're lucky) to tell you the van's full/the driver's sick/the company didn't send the right bit/the paperwork doesn't match/their pet cat's snuffed it - and all in the voice you use when explaining something very simple for the 12th time to a naughty toddler.
This is the Recipient's Curse: May you too have to endure the curt, robotic excuses that we have to endure: may you have to sit in all day for a delivery which doesn't arrive: may you discover the delights of trying to find out where your package is from a menopausal goblin trained at the Heinrich Himmler Charm School, or some brutish joyless monobrow with all the charisma of a shut pub.. And when you walk the streets, may the bitter and smug expression on your miserable face be locked at that setting forever, so your fellow man knows to avoid you and all you stand for. May your milk curdle and your tea be ever tepid. And may you share your life with someone who also dines in the cess pit of humanity reserved for creatures such as you.
My apologies to the hard core of thoroughly pleasant, efficient and humane carrier dispatchers. I hope you flourish in your careers, so that one day you become the boss, and can give the elbow to those described above!
Rant over. That's better!
Also, I am adamant in my support of the Royal Mail, and am delighted with the service.
BUT - what is the recruitment process for the mind-blowingly rude and uncaring people at the end of the telephone who tell YOU when they propose to deliver - to the nearest day - and then phone up on the day of delivery (if you're lucky) to tell you the van's full/the driver's sick/the company didn't send the right bit/the paperwork doesn't match/their pet cat's snuffed it - and all in the voice you use when explaining something very simple for the 12th time to a naughty toddler.
This is the Recipient's Curse: May you too have to endure the curt, robotic excuses that we have to endure: may you have to sit in all day for a delivery which doesn't arrive: may you discover the delights of trying to find out where your package is from a menopausal goblin trained at the Heinrich Himmler Charm School, or some brutish joyless monobrow with all the charisma of a shut pub.. And when you walk the streets, may the bitter and smug expression on your miserable face be locked at that setting forever, so your fellow man knows to avoid you and all you stand for. May your milk curdle and your tea be ever tepid. And may you share your life with someone who also dines in the cess pit of humanity reserved for creatures such as you.
My apologies to the hard core of thoroughly pleasant, efficient and humane carrier dispatchers. I hope you flourish in your careers, so that one day you become the boss, and can give the elbow to those described above!
Rant over. That's better!