At times I have wondered, after hearing about the financial problems the U.S. Postal Service is having, how that can be? Postage on letters is just shy of 50 cents per, rates on packages are through the roof, and don’t even try to send something overnight without first having taken out a large loan from your bank. And sending a registered or certified letter? Believe me, financially you don’t want to go there.
Well, a recent experience with the non-delivery of an online purchase and the subsequent dealings I had with on of their autocratic supervisory minions left me amazed that they were still able to find the state of Kansas, much less my mailbox.
OK, so it went kind of like this: I recently ordered an electronic gadget from an online seller who sent the item via FedEx SmartPost. This means FedEx ships the item to your local post office and they complete the delivery by putting the item in your mailbox, or if too large, on the porch. About 4:30pm, on January 14, I received an email invoice from the seller showing the FedEx tracking number and detailing each stop the package had made on its trip from Industry, CA to my local Shawnee, Kansas post office.
The final three entries showed that (1) on January 14, at 6:34am FedEx had delivered my package to the post office, (2) then “Out for delivery” at 8:26am by the local post office carrier, and (3) at 3:20pm, finally the package had been “Delivered”. Well, as luck would have it, at that exact time I had been lurking at my front door watching my dog do his business on the front lawn when the postal carrier cheerfully pulled up to my mailbox in her jaunty little white box-like vehicle and proceeded to stuff my mailbox with junk mail and bills. Waving adieu she pulled away to continue on her rounds.
At 4:15pm the next day, not having received my package, I went to our quaint little post office to enquire as to the whereabouts of my package. The clerk, after looking very carefully at the invoice I had handed him, said he did not know but took my info and promised to coordinate with his supervisor. He then assured me that someone would be in touch with me very soon. Uh, OK.
Next day, not having heard from anyone I called the post office and asked to speak to the supervisor. Rick came on the line and asked how he could help. I filled him in, up to the point where I had given his subordinate the invoice with my contact information. He then put me on hold. A few minutes later he came back on and said, “So, you didn’t get the package that the invoice says was clearly delivered to you on January 14, at 3:20pm?”
I said, “Yes, that’s correct”.
“So”, he continued, “just what is that that you want me to do?”
“Find and deliver my package.”
“Well, I don’t know where it is, sir”
“Uh, the invoice says your carrier delivered it but I don’t have it.”
“Yeah, that’s right; so what is it that you need from me?”
“My package?”
“Look buddy, I can ask the carrier if she remembers not delivering your package, but beyond that I’m not doing anything else, and I’m certainly not going to pay for the loss of your package.”
OK, I realize that common courtesies and good customer service are practices long gone in today’s society, but the callous attitude that his official displayed certainly raised the bar on these issues. Much like most of today’s parents he apparently feels that responsibility is just some conservative catch phrase and accountability is a somebody else’s, uh….responsibility. Makes the old slogan referring to snow, sleet, etc., the post office used to be proud of just another hackneyed phrase.
EPILOGUE:
The evening following my frustrating conversation with the postal supervisor one of my neighbors rang my doorbell and personally delivered the missing package. Apparently, the postal carrier had indeed delivered it at the exact date and time noted on the invoice from the shipper. She apologized for not having brought the package over sooner but she had been out of town until that evening and had found it sitting on her porch upon her return.
Oh, and how did the delivery end up on her porch instead of mine, you may ask? Well, she happens to share same house number with me but her street is West 63rd, and mine is West 64th.
Dyslexia anyone?
Thanks.
FD