I dashed out early this morning to run errands because I had received an exciting email (it used exclamation marks and everything!) from Yodel informing me of ‘Good news!’ My parcel would be delivered today! And I could track its progress!!! Using the handy tracking number and map!!!!! Logging into the tracker (!!!!!!!!!!!) I discovered there were 82 parcels ahead of my delivery in the queue (!!) and that my parcel would arrive somewhere between 3 and 5 (ish!!!!) Time then, to whoosh out to the supermarket to buy human food stuff and to the farm supplies shop to buy chicken food stuff. And to post a letter and a birthday card. I was back home by 8.45 a.m.
At the supermarket I heard a conversation between a couple of ladies who were perambulating with what I thought was unnecessary slowness around the aisles. One was bemoaning the fact she was being made redundant from her current job because the business was closing down. She’d been there for years and years.
‘I went for a job in Iceland,’ said she. (I assumed she meant the frozen food emporium and not the country.) ‘Filled in a form. Had to do some on-line tests. Then they told me I hadn’t met all their requirements. What requirements do you need to stack f**king freezers, eh?’
I thought, I think you’ve answered your own question there, love. She continued.
‘Then I went for a job at Wilkos. I’ve got literally YEARS of retail experience. It’s my SKILL, is retail. There’s NOTHING I don’t know about retail. At the end of the interview, the bloke says, ‘I’ll be honest, I’ve already given the job to someone else. But I’m going to keep your details and if she doesn’t work out, I’ll give you a call.’
The woman’s friend was suitably aghast. The Wilko Reject Woman took this as encouragement to continue. I wanted to hear the end of the conversation so I took sudden and great interest in reading the labels and merits of various brands of tinned chickpeas and lentils.
‘He was young enough to be my son,’ said Wilko Reject Woman. She was becoming shrill with indignation by now. ‘And there’s the problem. I’m 53. I’ve reached the point where I’m no longer employable because I’m TOO OLD!’
I dropped a tin of chickpeas into my basket. I thought, I’m 53. I left the supermarket feeling marginally more miserable than I felt yesterday although not as miserable as I COULD have been because Wilko Reject Woman looked a bloody sight older 53 year old than I do. In my opinion, anyway.
Back home, the Yodel Tracker informed me there were now 71 deliveries ahead of mine so I felt safe to crack on with important doings like cleaning out the cats’ water fountain and fitting a new filter, logging an on-line electricity meter reading, falling over a stray bucket whilst removing the chicken feed sack from the car, putting away the shopping, feeling old, miserable and useless.
At lunch time there were only 29 deliveries ahead of mine!!!! (The use of exclamation marks is ironic, by the way. I am foreshadowing for you.)The excitement of impending parcel delivery was palpable in the air!!!!! Fair crackling with electricity it was.
Then, at 3 p.m, just as I was getting ready to make a chocolate chip and banana cake for cheering up the miserable, and a spanakopita for dinner, I received an email from Yodel saying they were sorry I was out when they tried to deliver my parcel, and they’d left a card through my door saying they’d try delivering again tomorrow. (No exclamation marks...🙁)
I was LIVID! I had been tracking their route on the handy map. (!!!!!) The driver had been nowhere NEAR our address.
Well, I was straight onto the ‘handy live chat button’ and was connected to ‘Lauren’ who, after a bit of research, informed me the driver couldn’t find our house! And could I provide some useful landmarks to help the driver to deliver tomorrow?
Oh stupid me! It’s because we live up a mountain, isn’t it, on a tiny narrow one track pathway suitable only for traversing by goat and cart and a small goat at that. It was the snow, too, wasn’t it? Compounded by thick fog and a herd of 2,000 cattle blocking the view. No wonder the driver couldn’t find us. Sheesh.
I informed ‘Lauren’ that there were only 3 houses in our postcode which was on an A road, and our house had a bloody great sign saying ‘Damson Cottage’ sticking out into the road. Well, not actually into the road, that would be dangerous, but it’s a dangly sign on a post right on the road. ‘Lauren’ thanked me for the directions and said she was hopeful my parcel would arrive tomorrow. I said never mind hopeful, Lauren, I am expecting that parcel tomorrow full stop. No exclamation mark.
Another day of my life wasted, I thought, unless they know what is good for them and make my delivery Number 1 out of 90 whatever for the day. But no, it won’t be a wasted day. Because by the time I’d finished with ‘Lauren’ I was feisty with energy and va-va-voom and had been in receipt of a creative epiphany of what my contribution to the Stoke PDSA Open Day could be on 1st September!!! (Re-instate exclamation marks!!!!)
I am a woman on fire (metaphorical) and lively with creativity. I am no longer miserable (I’m soooo
fickle) and am certainly not old. I, dear readers, have a plan to execute!! It has cheered me up no end.
!!!!!
At the supermarket I heard a conversation between a couple of ladies who were perambulating with what I thought was unnecessary slowness around the aisles. One was bemoaning the fact she was being made redundant from her current job because the business was closing down. She’d been there for years and years.
‘I went for a job in Iceland,’ said she. (I assumed she meant the frozen food emporium and not the country.) ‘Filled in a form. Had to do some on-line tests. Then they told me I hadn’t met all their requirements. What requirements do you need to stack f**king freezers, eh?’
I thought, I think you’ve answered your own question there, love. She continued.
‘Then I went for a job at Wilkos. I’ve got literally YEARS of retail experience. It’s my SKILL, is retail. There’s NOTHING I don’t know about retail. At the end of the interview, the bloke says, ‘I’ll be honest, I’ve already given the job to someone else. But I’m going to keep your details and if she doesn’t work out, I’ll give you a call.’
The woman’s friend was suitably aghast. The Wilko Reject Woman took this as encouragement to continue. I wanted to hear the end of the conversation so I took sudden and great interest in reading the labels and merits of various brands of tinned chickpeas and lentils.
‘He was young enough to be my son,’ said Wilko Reject Woman. She was becoming shrill with indignation by now. ‘And there’s the problem. I’m 53. I’ve reached the point where I’m no longer employable because I’m TOO OLD!’
I dropped a tin of chickpeas into my basket. I thought, I’m 53. I left the supermarket feeling marginally more miserable than I felt yesterday although not as miserable as I COULD have been because Wilko Reject Woman looked a bloody sight older 53 year old than I do. In my opinion, anyway.
Back home, the Yodel Tracker informed me there were now 71 deliveries ahead of mine so I felt safe to crack on with important doings like cleaning out the cats’ water fountain and fitting a new filter, logging an on-line electricity meter reading, falling over a stray bucket whilst removing the chicken feed sack from the car, putting away the shopping, feeling old, miserable and useless.
At lunch time there were only 29 deliveries ahead of mine!!!! (The use of exclamation marks is ironic, by the way. I am foreshadowing for you.)The excitement of impending parcel delivery was palpable in the air!!!!! Fair crackling with electricity it was.
Then, at 3 p.m, just as I was getting ready to make a chocolate chip and banana cake for cheering up the miserable, and a spanakopita for dinner, I received an email from Yodel saying they were sorry I was out when they tried to deliver my parcel, and they’d left a card through my door saying they’d try delivering again tomorrow. (No exclamation marks...🙁)
I was LIVID! I had been tracking their route on the handy map. (!!!!!) The driver had been nowhere NEAR our address.
Well, I was straight onto the ‘handy live chat button’ and was connected to ‘Lauren’ who, after a bit of research, informed me the driver couldn’t find our house! And could I provide some useful landmarks to help the driver to deliver tomorrow?
Oh stupid me! It’s because we live up a mountain, isn’t it, on a tiny narrow one track pathway suitable only for traversing by goat and cart and a small goat at that. It was the snow, too, wasn’t it? Compounded by thick fog and a herd of 2,000 cattle blocking the view. No wonder the driver couldn’t find us. Sheesh.
I informed ‘Lauren’ that there were only 3 houses in our postcode which was on an A road, and our house had a bloody great sign saying ‘Damson Cottage’ sticking out into the road. Well, not actually into the road, that would be dangerous, but it’s a dangly sign on a post right on the road. ‘Lauren’ thanked me for the directions and said she was hopeful my parcel would arrive tomorrow. I said never mind hopeful, Lauren, I am expecting that parcel tomorrow full stop. No exclamation mark.
Another day of my life wasted, I thought, unless they know what is good for them and make my delivery Number 1 out of 90 whatever for the day. But no, it won’t be a wasted day. Because by the time I’d finished with ‘Lauren’ I was feisty with energy and va-va-voom and had been in receipt of a creative epiphany of what my contribution to the Stoke PDSA Open Day could be on 1st September!!! (Re-instate exclamation marks!!!!)
I am a woman on fire (metaphorical) and lively with creativity. I am no longer miserable (I’m soooo
fickle) and am certainly not old. I, dear readers, have a plan to execute!! It has cheered me up no end.
!!!!!
Comments
DPD are excellent. At least they are around here. At the opposite end of the market they tend to have far too many deliveries, too little time and get paid a pittance. If there's a corner to be cut they'll find it.