Categories
food personal

Order Online

I have a few problems with this online business.

Having spent £100 sending my son a present,. I sent it to his mother’s address, but got it wrong. Contacting the retailer they said they couldn’t change the delivery adress. but would refund the money. They sent me £10. I know why. It was all my fault. I ordered £90 then realised I’d missed an item, so added that to the order. They should have sent me £100.

Whilst that was going on – by that I mean; I sent them emails and got no reply. I ordered the stuff again, this time to the new address, and costing £120.

I relayed these events to ex-wife and son.

Nothing happened

I contacted the delivery company. Oh dear!

Eventually they said ‘we delivered’.

How could I argue with that? I’m 80 miles away. Ex-wife and son both tell me they haven’t seen this stuff.. Who would you believe?

I contacted the retailer again – nothing comes from them.

That’s an ongoing saga. I’ll let you know what happens.

It’s snowing here, and I’m old, so I order food online from a local supermarket.

It fails to arrive.

The next day I contact the Head Office and I’m dealt with very sweetly by a young lady who utters those dreadful words, ‘OK, I’ll check, and phone you back’. She explained that the delivery van had been involved in an accident. I’m still waiting for her call.

I’m still hungry, and wondering if I should phone the local store.

I phoned their HQ. They will deliver on Sunday 14th. Great. What will I eat now?

I could go on with a string of such tales. In themselves they are just a minor inconvenience. Incidentally I’ve just taken delivery of a new hat. It’s too small. Here we go again!

Some time ago I wrote a blog. In my town there’s a large port that handles containers (Felixstowe). There were plans to build a warehouse that could deal with part-loads.

What a great idea. The Royal Mail had just been privatised (that’s another sordid story). I suggested that all ‘white van’ deliveries to our town should go to this new warehouse. Adding that then the experts in part-loading culd sort out the parcels (just liike Royal Mail does, or did) and every day – at a set time – an electric truck would come to my address and deliver anything that was for me.

That seemed logical. It would stop us all being terrorised in my local streets by vans rushing to make deliveries, parking in the middle of the road, never the same driver, always too busy to talk.

It would be cheaper for the delivery companies, just having one point of delivery.

It would provide jobs for local people.

It would help our local environment. All the ‘white vans’ were diesels, many were only just small enough to get down our street.

My great idea has never got anywhere.

I’m still waiting for the supermarket to call me back. I’ve still got to chase the shop about my son’s present but I’ve decided to wear my new hat (a Breton cap) on the back of my head.

Maybe the snow is thawing?