This week, our very own communications officer demonstrated the necessity of paying attention when ordering online. We give to you this rollercoaster of events in four emails.
To: Customer Service
00.14AM 29 August 2018
Dear sir
I recently ordered a package from [Retailer]. It was to be delivered by [Courier] this evening. The [Courier] parcel tracker service tells me that a delivery attempt was made this evening.
However, I have been in all evening, working at my computer, at a window which faces out onto the road, in silence, and with my dog beside me. My dog (Arthur) takes it upon himself to announce every knock at the door as though he’s never heard a knock at the door before. I don’t know what Arthur thinks a knock signifies, but he’s very excited about it. But because of the vantage point, the silence and the idiot dog, I’m aware when someone knocks at the door. No one knocked at the door this evening.
Therefore, the [Courier] is lying. This irritates me far more than it should. I’m writing an email at midnight about it. That’s how irritated I am.
It is not the failure to deliver the parcel, per se, that has irritated me. I’m a grownup, I can cope with waiting an additional day for a parcel. I don’t like it, however, that [Courier] has lied because they failed to do their job properly.
While I’m aware that couriers are paid poor wages and have to operate on very tight time constraints, and also that I live in a village where there are no streets, no numbers, and the names of houses were allocated by a barely literate and probably drunk official in the 13th century, I’m that I’m not the easiest person to deliver to, but [Courier] didn’t have to lie.
Can you please look into this, and let me know what action will be taken as a result of both the failure to deliver my parcel, the inevitable inconvenience it is going to cause me to get the parcel, and the dishonesty of [Courier].
Best wishes,
etc
To: Customer Service
18.54PM 30 August 2018
Dear Scotty
Thank you for your kind reply.
Arthur and I waited again today. Him, trembling with excitement. Me, nervously eyeing the diminishing number of clean pants in my underwear draw, hoping beyond all hope that the new pants will arrive before I have to do washing, wondering whether I will forever be locked in an epic game of knicker-chicken with [Courier].
But alas, today, I have come to the end of my clean pant stack, and [Courier] has failed us (and lied) again. Arthur is crushed. I’m doing washing. Neither of us is happy.
The driver was, according to the [Courier] website, expected between one and five this afternoon. He/she did not knock on the door between one and five. However, [Courier] was good enough to update the status of my package to say that delivery had been attempted and I was not in.
As Arthur can attest (as well as my curtain-twitching neighbours), no attempt was made. I am knickerless. I am washing. I am unhappy.
Delighted though I was at a 25% reduction on my next order in compensation for a single failed delivery (and deceit), I feel like we should double that, since we are now at double the number of failed deliveries (and deceits).
What are your thoughts?
Best wishes,
- Attached is a picture of Arthur, moribund with disappointment
To: Customer Service
12.15PM 31 August 2018
Dear Douglas
Thank you for your email.
The package arrived. Which was obviously a delight for both myself and Arthur.
I’d like you to picture the scene for a moment. Arthur, positively quivering with excitement from the knock at the door, panting from the ordeal. Me, hurriedly tearing into my new knickers, expecting to be able to dodge a proper load of washing for at least another week. I break through the layers of unnecessary plastic bags and tags, pull out the new pants, gleaming and gorgeous – and so, so clean.
I hold them up to admire them, and am… not angry. I’m disappointed. They are a size 8-10. Giving [Retailer] the benefit of the doubt, I think to myself, no, that can’t be right. I check the packaging. It says 12-14. I check the label on the knickers themselves. It too says it’s a size 12-14. I get out a (now clean) pair of size 12 pants to compare. There is a difference in the waist of at least 15cms. They are far, far too small.
Now, I am a safe size 12. I recognise that my texture and consistency are not what they were, but my size and shape have remained relatively consistent. So I now own a dozen pairs of pants that are far too small, but I feel like this is representative of a larger (if you’ll excuse the pun) problem. And not just that I live hand-to-mouth on the knickers front (proverbially speaking).
If you will permit me, a brief history of the patriarchy: men have, for thousands of years, been a bit afraid of women. Women, realistically speaking, can crush men with a well-placed laugh. That must be tough. However, they got clever on how to fight back; they created the Virgin Mother as a role model. That’s right, a virgin and a mother. Have fun living up to that, ladies! As time went on, women twigged that this was a con, so we got new unattainable role models to make us feel terrible about ourselves, this time on the sides of buses and in magazines. Tiny-framed girls (and I mean girls), without cellulite, stretch marks and even pores. However, until recently, it was acknowledged by retailers that this was a fiction. Only 14 year old girls look like that, not actual women. I feel that [Retailer] has forgotten that it isn’t real.
So I wonder why it is that [Retailer] has decided to label size 8-10 knickers as size 12-14. Is it because they have indeed forgotten that women don’t look like teenage girls? Or is it that they just don’t like women? Do they want us to feel bad about ourselves? Do they want us to believe that we are taking up too much space – not just figuratively but now literally?
Arthur is satisfied with your service, but he is a dog, he has no idea what misogyny is, and even if he did it would be irrelevant to him since I had his testicles removed. I, however, am very much not satisfied.
I would like a refund, I do not want to be inconvenienced by having to take the knickers to a depot or shop so I’d like them collected from my home, and I would like a voucher because other than giving me an excuse to write some entertaining letters, this whole episode has been a disaster from start to finish. I will not be using the voucher, since apparently [Retailer] doesn’t make clothes for average-sized human women. I will give it to someone I don’t like, so that they can buy into this nonsense and hate themselves as much as I hate them.
I’m going to have a cup of tea and think about nice things until my faith in humanity has been restored. It may take some time.
Best wishes,
To: Customer Service
12.19PM 30 August 2018
It has been brought to my attention that I have purchased children’s knickers by accident.
I’d like to arrange for a courier to collect from my address, as I can never leave the house again.
Best wishes,
etc
Related Posts
This week, our very own communications officer demonstrated the necessity of paying attention when ordering online. We give to you this rollercoaster of events in four emails.
To: Customer Service
00.14AM 29 August 2018
Dear sir
I recently ordered a package from [Retailer]. It was to be delivered by [Courier] this evening. The [Courier] parcel tracker service tells me that a delivery attempt was made this evening.
However, I have been in all evening, working at my computer, at a window which faces out onto the road, in silence, and with my dog beside me. My dog (Arthur) takes it upon himself to announce every knock at the door as though he’s never heard a knock at the door before. I don’t know what Arthur thinks a knock signifies, but he’s very excited about it. But because of the vantage point, the silence and the idiot dog, I’m aware when someone knocks at the door. No one knocked at the door this evening.
Therefore, the [Courier] is lying. This irritates me far more than it should. I’m writing an email at midnight about it. That’s how irritated I am.
It is not the failure to deliver the parcel, per se, that has irritated me. I’m a grownup, I can cope with waiting an additional day for a parcel. I don’t like it, however, that [Courier] has lied because they failed to do their job properly.
While I’m aware that couriers are paid poor wages and have to operate on very tight time constraints, and also that I live in a village where there are no streets, no numbers, and the names of houses were allocated by a barely literate and probably drunk official in the 13th century, I’m that I’m not the easiest person to deliver to, but [Courier] didn’t have to lie.
Can you please look into this, and let me know what action will be taken as a result of both the failure to deliver my parcel, the inevitable inconvenience it is going to cause me to get the parcel, and the dishonesty of [Courier].
Best wishes,
etc
To: Customer Service
18.54PM 30 August 2018
Dear Scotty
Thank you for your kind reply.
Arthur and I waited again today. Him, trembling with excitement. Me, nervously eyeing the diminishing number of clean pants in my underwear draw, hoping beyond all hope that the new pants will arrive before I have to do washing, wondering whether I will forever be locked in an epic game of knicker-chicken with [Courier].
But alas, today, I have come to the end of my clean pant stack, and [Courier] has failed us (and lied) again. Arthur is crushed. I’m doing washing. Neither of us is happy.
The driver was, according to the [Courier] website, expected between one and five this afternoon. He/she did not knock on the door between one and five. However, [Courier] was good enough to update the status of my package to say that delivery had been attempted and I was not in.
As Arthur can attest (as well as my curtain-twitching neighbours), no attempt was made. I am knickerless. I am washing. I am unhappy.
Delighted though I was at a 25% reduction on my next order in compensation for a single failed delivery (and deceit), I feel like we should double that, since we are now at double the number of failed deliveries (and deceits).
What are your thoughts?
Best wishes,
- Attached is a picture of Arthur, moribund with disappointment
To: Customer Service
12.15PM 31 August 2018
Dear Douglas
Thank you for your email.
The package arrived. Which was obviously a delight for both myself and Arthur.
I’d like you to picture the scene for a moment. Arthur, positively quivering with excitement from the knock at the door, panting from the ordeal. Me, hurriedly tearing into my new knickers, expecting to be able to dodge a proper load of washing for at least another week. I break through the layers of unnecessary plastic bags and tags, pull out the new pants, gleaming and gorgeous – and so, so clean.
I hold them up to admire them, and am… not angry. I’m disappointed. They are a size 8-10. Giving [Retailer] the benefit of the doubt, I think to myself, no, that can’t be right. I check the packaging. It says 12-14. I check the label on the knickers themselves. It too says it’s a size 12-14. I get out a (now clean) pair of size 12 pants to compare. There is a difference in the waist of at least 15cms. They are far, far too small.
Now, I am a safe size 12. I recognise that my texture and consistency are not what they were, but my size and shape have remained relatively consistent. So I now own a dozen pairs of pants that are far too small, but I feel like this is representative of a larger (if you’ll excuse the pun) problem. And not just that I live hand-to-mouth on the knickers front (proverbially speaking).
If you will permit me, a brief history of the patriarchy: men have, for thousands of years, been a bit afraid of women. Women, realistically speaking, can crush men with a well-placed laugh. That must be tough. However, they got clever on how to fight back; they created the Virgin Mother as a role model. That’s right, a virgin and a mother. Have fun living up to that, ladies! As time went on, women twigged that this was a con, so we got new unattainable role models to make us feel terrible about ourselves, this time on the sides of buses and in magazines. Tiny-framed girls (and I mean girls), without cellulite, stretch marks and even pores. However, until recently, it was acknowledged by retailers that this was a fiction. Only 14 year old girls look like that, not actual women. I feel that [Retailer] has forgotten that it isn’t real.
So I wonder why it is that [Retailer] has decided to label size 8-10 knickers as size 12-14. Is it because they have indeed forgotten that women don’t look like teenage girls? Or is it that they just don’t like women? Do they want us to feel bad about ourselves? Do they want us to believe that we are taking up too much space – not just figuratively but now literally?
Arthur is satisfied with your service, but he is a dog, he has no idea what misogyny is, and even if he did it would be irrelevant to him since I had his testicles removed. I, however, am very much not satisfied.
I would like a refund, I do not want to be inconvenienced by having to take the knickers to a depot or shop so I’d like them collected from my home, and I would like a voucher because other than giving me an excuse to write some entertaining letters, this whole episode has been a disaster from start to finish. I will not be using the voucher, since apparently [Retailer] doesn’t make clothes for average-sized human women. I will give it to someone I don’t like, so that they can buy into this nonsense and hate themselves as much as I hate them.
I’m going to have a cup of tea and think about nice things until my faith in humanity has been restored. It may take some time.
Best wishes,
To: Customer Service
12.19PM 30 August 2018
It has been brought to my attention that I have purchased children’s knickers by accident.
I’d like to arrange for a courier to collect from my address, as I can never leave the house again.
Best wishes,
etc
Related Posts
This week, our very own communications officer demonstrated the necessity of paying attention when ordering online. We give to you this rollercoaster of events in four emails.
To: Customer Service
00.14AM 29 August 2018
Dear sir
I recently ordered a package from [Retailer]. It was to be delivered by [Courier] this evening. The [Courier] parcel tracker service tells me that a delivery attempt was made this evening.
However, I have been in all evening, working at my computer, at a window which faces out onto the road, in silence, and with my dog beside me. My dog (Arthur) takes it upon himself to announce every knock at the door as though he’s never heard a knock at the door before. I don’t know what Arthur thinks a knock signifies, but he’s very excited about it. But because of the vantage point, the silence and the idiot dog, I’m aware when someone knocks at the door. No one knocked at the door this evening.
Therefore, the [Courier] is lying. This irritates me far more than it should. I’m writing an email at midnight about it. That’s how irritated I am.
It is not the failure to deliver the parcel, per se, that has irritated me. I’m a grownup, I can cope with waiting an additional day for a parcel. I don’t like it, however, that [Courier] has lied because they failed to do their job properly.
While I’m aware that couriers are paid poor wages and have to operate on very tight time constraints, and also that I live in a village where there are no streets, no numbers, and the names of houses were allocated by a barely literate and probably drunk official in the 13th century, I’m that I’m not the easiest person to deliver to, but [Courier] didn’t have to lie.
Can you please look into this, and let me know what action will be taken as a result of both the failure to deliver my parcel, the inevitable inconvenience it is going to cause me to get the parcel, and the dishonesty of [Courier].
Best wishes,
etc
To: Customer Service
18.54PM 30 August 2018
Dear Scotty
Thank you for your kind reply.
Arthur and I waited again today. Him, trembling with excitement. Me, nervously eyeing the diminishing number of clean pants in my underwear draw, hoping beyond all hope that the new pants will arrive before I have to do washing, wondering whether I will forever be locked in an epic game of knicker-chicken with [Courier].
But alas, today, I have come to the end of my clean pant stack, and [Courier] has failed us (and lied) again. Arthur is crushed. I’m doing washing. Neither of us is happy.
The driver was, according to the [Courier] website, expected between one and five this afternoon. He/she did not knock on the door between one and five. However, [Courier] was good enough to update the status of my package to say that delivery had been attempted and I was not in.
As Arthur can attest (as well as my curtain-twitching neighbours), no attempt was made. I am knickerless. I am washing. I am unhappy.
Delighted though I was at a 25% reduction on my next order in compensation for a single failed delivery (and deceit), I feel like we should double that, since we are now at double the number of failed deliveries (and deceits).
What are your thoughts?
Best wishes,
- Attached is a picture of Arthur, moribund with disappointment
To: Customer Service
12.15PM 31 August 2018
Dear Douglas
Thank you for your email.
The package arrived. Which was obviously a delight for both myself and Arthur.
I’d like you to picture the scene for a moment. Arthur, positively quivering with excitement from the knock at the door, panting from the ordeal. Me, hurriedly tearing into my new knickers, expecting to be able to dodge a proper load of washing for at least another week. I break through the layers of unnecessary plastic bags and tags, pull out the new pants, gleaming and gorgeous – and so, so clean.
I hold them up to admire them, and am… not angry. I’m disappointed. They are a size 8-10. Giving [Retailer] the benefit of the doubt, I think to myself, no, that can’t be right. I check the packaging. It says 12-14. I check the label on the knickers themselves. It too says it’s a size 12-14. I get out a (now clean) pair of size 12 pants to compare. There is a difference in the waist of at least 15cms. They are far, far too small.
Now, I am a safe size 12. I recognise that my texture and consistency are not what they were, but my size and shape have remained relatively consistent. So I now own a dozen pairs of pants that are far too small, but I feel like this is representative of a larger (if you’ll excuse the pun) problem. And not just that I live hand-to-mouth on the knickers front (proverbially speaking).
If you will permit me, a brief history of the patriarchy: men have, for thousands of years, been a bit afraid of women. Women, realistically speaking, can crush men with a well-placed laugh. That must be tough. However, they got clever on how to fight back; they created the Virgin Mother as a role model. That’s right, a virgin and a mother. Have fun living up to that, ladies! As time went on, women twigged that this was a con, so we got new unattainable role models to make us feel terrible about ourselves, this time on the sides of buses and in magazines. Tiny-framed girls (and I mean girls), without cellulite, stretch marks and even pores. However, until recently, it was acknowledged by retailers that this was a fiction. Only 14 year old girls look like that, not actual women. I feel that [Retailer] has forgotten that it isn’t real.
So I wonder why it is that [Retailer] has decided to label size 8-10 knickers as size 12-14. Is it because they have indeed forgotten that women don’t look like teenage girls? Or is it that they just don’t like women? Do they want us to feel bad about ourselves? Do they want us to believe that we are taking up too much space – not just figuratively but now literally?
Arthur is satisfied with your service, but he is a dog, he has no idea what misogyny is, and even if he did it would be irrelevant to him since I had his testicles removed. I, however, am very much not satisfied.
I would like a refund, I do not want to be inconvenienced by having to take the knickers to a depot or shop so I’d like them collected from my home, and I would like a voucher because other than giving me an excuse to write some entertaining letters, this whole episode has been a disaster from start to finish. I will not be using the voucher, since apparently [Retailer] doesn’t make clothes for average-sized human women. I will give it to someone I don’t like, so that they can buy into this nonsense and hate themselves as much as I hate them.
I’m going to have a cup of tea and think about nice things until my faith in humanity has been restored. It may take some time.
Best wishes,
To: Customer Service
12.19PM 30 August 2018
It has been brought to my attention that I have purchased children’s knickers by accident.
I’d like to arrange for a courier to collect from my address, as I can never leave the house again.
Best wishes,
etc
