People Are Stupid: 2

Its been a while since I've posted a ranty piece on my blog so for those of you who don't tune in for the ranting; apologies. To those of you who have missed it, this one's for you. Its a customer service rant. 

Doug Shaw wrote recently about his experience of smaller organisations providing better levels of personal customer service. In the main I'd say my experience matches Doug's. Except when it comes to franchises. A funny thing happens with a franchise if you're not careful. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that they are both small and large company, maybe it's the model of tight, easily replicable cost management. Maybe it's that, while you can franchise a brand, a product or a name, franchising a level of service is far more difficult. Something that UK Mail may want to ponder on...


I can't imagine that its a particularly fulfilling job to be a driver for a franchised courier firm such as UK Mail. But I can't imagine that its a particularly taxing one either. What's to get wrong? Put boxes in van, drive to address, deposit boxes at address. Sounds simple, right? And I suppose if we were going to stick to the letter of that not very detailed job description (I refer you to 'People Are Stupid' mk1) then the driver for UK Mail who visited my house this morning has done his job.


If however, we take as a basic assumption that you layer on top of the tasks on your job description such competencies as honesty, empathy with the customer and common sense then it might be fair to say that UK Mail's driver for the Milton Keynes depot has failed spectacularly. And, in my view, so have UK Mail in their handling of the issue that he has created...


My husband works from home for a national charity and this morning a delivery of seven large boxes of promotional equipment were delivered to our house. I happen to know that UK Mail's delivery driver (in the interests of convenience and accuracy, lets call him 'Doofus') entered on his computer system that he banged loudly on our door at 7.45 this morning. I also happen to know that my husband was downstairs within earshot of our front door until 7.55 when he left to catch a train. I know this because I saw it with my own eyes. I can therefore only deduce that Doofus is either factually or temporally challenged.

I can't tell you what happened next, but what I came downstairs to at 9.30am was this:

Seven large boxes piled up directly outside my back door. I tried to open my back door to reach the boxes, but I couldn't... due to the seven large boxes piled up directly outside it.


I know, I thought; I'll go round the front, take the side alley to the back garden and move the boxes from the other side. Off I trotted, in my slippers, and went to open my back gate. But I couldn't - Doofus had reached over and pulled the bolt closed from the outside. I'm going to guess that Doofus is much taller than me. And evidently much stupider.


So there I am; trapped from my own back garden, two angry cats demanding to be let out, 7 boxes of paper-based promotional material on my deck, thunderstorms forecast and no phone number to contact the cretin who created the situation. After ranting loudly at my husband on the phone for five minutes (sorry darling) I went on the UK Mail website and found a phone number of someone else to shout at. I rang it, they gave me another number. I rang that, they gave me another number. Every person I spoke to asked me for my consignment number - which I couldn't give because it was written on the pile of boxes the other side of the door from me. 


I finally got through to Maria (think that was her name, my memory is never great once the red mist has descended) in the Milton Keynes depot. After explaining the situation, Maria went off to track down Doofus. She came back on the line to tell me that he would pop back round 'at some point later this afternoon'. I asked if anyone could come sooner and was told that this wasn't possible as Doofus had other deliveries to make. When I said that this wasn't really acceptable Maria had no answer and, until I asked specifically for it, Maria made no apology. She also proceeded to tell me that I was obviously lying about being in my house at 7.45am because her computer said something very different.


The UK Mail office that Maria works in is 20 minutes from my house. I'm going to hazard a guess that at least one person who works in that office drives a car and can therefore get to my house and rectify Doofus's cock-up. But that doesn't seem to be a viable option for UK Mail.


So, I'm waiting in all day for South Northamptonshire's number one Doofus to visit me so that he can undo the evidence of his doofus-ery. The cats aren't happy. I'm not happy and if anyone has any ideas of what I might say to Doofus when/if he arrives I'm all ears.